Page 23 of My Neighbor, the Vampire

Samuel drops the box with a thud, turning toward me. After a moment of hesitation, he crosses the room, stopping at the foot of my bed. His weight shifts the mattress as he sits.

I push the blankets away from my face, leaning up on my elbows.

“Anyone else would have drunk him dry. I used to be an…over-consumer. My…brothershelped me cut back, but now having a…casualdrink is harder. The blood makes me a little slow and fuzzy. I’m working on balancing the two demons so I can return to normal, but it hasn’t happened yet.” He lowers his head, eyes wide and honest. “Does that make sense to you, Jane?”

I remember the shining scarlet in his eyes when he turned toward the mirror, face panicked.

Finally, I incline my chin in answer. “Your brothers sound like good people.”

His face remains stoic for a moment longer before cracking. He places a hand on his chest as he cackles, laughter ringing out. “Good people? Hardly, Jane. The world you’ve woken up in is devoid of such a thing.”

I shake my head, lips pressed together. “No. You’re good. You saved me.”

His laughter tapers out, one of his brows arching. “I think that makes me selfish, Jane. Not good.”

I sit up further, lips turning down. “What does that mean? How does saving someone make you selfish?”

He sighs and falls backward, lacing his hands behind his head. “Because you’re human, and showing myself to you is forbidden? Because not killing you means someone else will, and they’ll make it slow and excruciating?” My stomach knots itself as Samuel’s chin jerks downward, his eyes narrowing. “Or because keeping you alive means I’m starting a war with the elites, and my brothers could be destroyed?”

The knot tightens, wrapping around my chest. “Then you should have let him kill me.”

He nods his head, and my heart flutters. “Yeah, probably should have.” He shrugs. “But I didn’t. I won’t.”

I jerk my chin from side to side, eyes slitting. “Why?”

Slowly, he rises, his gaze alight with a strange sort of… excitement? “That’s what we’re going to find out together, Jane. Now, get out of bed and pack your bags. We leave at sundown.”

I don’t bother putting on something different. My pajama bottoms aren’t very fancy, but if I tuck them into my boots, they work. My night shirt gets covered by my favorite sweater. It’s made with a thick, warm cotton, and the front has line art of a raccoon eating from a dumpster etched on it. If Samuel thinks any differently about me after seeing my eccentric outfit, he doesn’t say anything.

I hadn’t unpacked my work bag, so I cram the rest of my most valued objects into it. My laptop. Journal. Sticker covered Kindle. My makeup bag.

By the time I’m finished, it’s loaded twice its normal capacity.

Samuel’s stacking my remaining belongings against one wall, ready for the movers he claims are coming once we vacate the area. I pull my straps over my shoulder, staring down at the box near my feet. “Are you sure my stuff will be okay?”

He stands, one hand resting against the man-sized hole in the wall. “My brother called someone to come fix the mess. All of it, including removing every trace of your residency from this room.”

He doesn’t mention the bigger mess these miracle workers will have to contend with. The body.

I peer into Samuel’s apartment, more curious than frightened by the dark, void-like space. He takes a step back, acknowledging my assessment. “You can come inside. I haven’t had time to make it feel like home, but-“

I stride into the living room, stepping over a pile of crumbled drywall on the floor. Samuel’s apartment is bare, true, but it’s also very telling of his character. Everything is dark, but not in the moody way my room is. There’s still light in there, at least. Here it is… heavy with the cloak of shadows.

It doesn’t feel scary. In fact, I kind of like being in this dim version of reality. It feels safer, like I’ve been shoved into a hideaway, because sometimes disappearing feels a whole lot better than showing up.

I wonder if that’s how Samuel feels, too.

The single room is set with an elegant black futon and a heavy wooden coffee table positioned in front of it. An unsoiled wine glass sits on top of the counter, seeming out of place. Other than these small additions, the room is bare. No crumpled receipts on the tabletop, no empty coffee mugs. If I hadn’t seen Samuel enter this apartment for the last week, I’d believe it to be vacant.

“Wow, this is…” I do a quick twirl, trying to find a polite way to describe this place.

“Not my home,” he finishes for me.

Samuel is leaning against the wall near the hole, watching me. His eyes seem to reflect in the darkness, but I can’t be too sure. He beckons me with one hand. “Come on. The sun is going down. Time to leave.”

I sigh, looking around for any shred of information onwhoSamuel is. The plain space reveals nothing. It’s just a husk. A façade.

9

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