Chapter 10: Tales of An Unwilling Vampiress [Edited]

Chapter 101

The Silent Shadows2

“Something wrong?” he asked me. I rocked back on my heels, shook my head no, and stood up, slipping onto my chair as my knees wobbled.3

Had I overdosed on work so much I was hallucinating, or had that been real? Were those . . . things fake? They had to be, of course.4

I played with the edge of the sheet in front of me, swallowing as my mind flashed again and again to that split-second frame burned into my retinas.5

Alan had been hiding it. I didn’t care why. I was more interested as to why they were in his mouth in the first place.6

“Coffee?” Alan asked me, after giving up prompting me with cues for the fifth time. My head jerked up and I nodded weakly. What I really wanted was to escape, but that would have been the swiftest way of letting on that I had seen something he so obviously didn’t want to reveal.7

I found myself wondering what he’d do if questioned about it, as I watched Alan head to the counter. A soft Secondhand Serenade song played over the speakers, but I couldn’t hear it right then. My mind buzzed ahead of its coffee fix.8

Alan might have been embarrassed about his overgrown canines. It happened. Why else would he hide them?9

***10

“Silvia?”11

I glanced up from the thank-you card Janie had handed to me after I left Luke's house the night before, raising an eyebrow at said classmate’s attentiveness, or lack thereof. This was the third time Ms. McAdams had sleepily called on her, and she still hadn’t answered.12

“She’s not here,” a rather nasal-voiced brunette sitting next to Silvia’s regular seat eventually drawled. “She wasn’t feeling well.”13

My eyebrows shot up, eyes widening. This was odd. She’d seemed fine on Saturday, even happy.14

Of course, she’d been hanging out with the likes of Alan Hartman, Hottie Extraordinaire, so she had to be happy. I just happened to be one of the few whose Christmas Wish List didn’t include the guy’s name in it somewhere.15

How did she get so sick she had to stay home?16

I knew Silvia wouldn’t be faking it. Not today, anyways. Today was the day Miranda chose the center pyramid highest-level cheerleader, according to who went best. It was a pretty amusing competition, really. Because the world didn’t have bigger issues than deciding the fate of some cheerleader.17

I guess I could see why it was an honor. In some delusional way, that is. Basically, if you were at the top of the pyramid, you either were the head cheerleader, or you had the best skills.18

Yeah, that’s as admirable a life-long goal as a BBA from Harvard.19

Miranda, who’d tired herself out regaling me all weekend with meticulous details of her date with Alan — like anything she mentioned outside of the single-line text message she’d sent me when she’d reached home Friday night would intrigue me—now leaned over to whisper, “Wonder if she shows up to practice. I thought she really wanted to try for the top.” I nodded back at her, and then froze as a prickly feeling crept up me. 20

A pair of eyes boring into my back.21

I glanced surreptitiously around the room, my eyes scanning over the students either busily working away or pretending to behind walls of textbooks. Ms. McAdams, who’d decided she didn’t have the energy for a Monday morning English class, had her head resting on her palm, looking suspiciously asleep.22

A pair of brilliant blue eyes caught my gaze, and I sat up with a start, feeling my insides melt. Alan raised an eyebrow at me from his seat in the back, and I frowned, ignored the burn in my cheeks, and turned to face the front again.23

What’s his problem? my mind asked, for what seemed to be the fifth time that day.24

For some inexplicable reason, Alan had decided that today was Unnerve Emmy Day; I’d caught him staring at me several times since this morning, blue eyes clouded.25

And it wasn’t pubescent-teenaged-guy staring. He always seemed to be wearing this peculiar expression on his face, as if he had a conversation going on inside his head.26

Of which I was a part of.27

Pushing this disconcerting thought out of my mind, I forcefully focused back on my assignment, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that today was not a debate-project work period. After the unnerving instances over the weekend, I didn’t really want to have to sit next to Alan.28

Because, let’s face it. The guy had fangs.29

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get that image out of my mind. The sight of those razor-sharp teeth flashing at me, the sudden panicked vibe in Alan’s demeanor. It had barely lasted five seconds, and then he’d straightened up. But it had been a few seconds too many. I’d confirmed what I’d seen. 30

Later on, as I’d driven to Luke’s place to catch Janie’s birthday celebration, the matter had been brewing in my mind. I could no longer put it down to a natural elongation of canines. Unless Alan had gone in for cosmetic surgery—no one had canines that long; it wasn’t surprising he kept his mouth closed—there was only one explanation.31

And that was one I really wasn’t willing to acknowledge.32

***33

“Emmy, hold up. I forgot to tell you about this!”34

I turned, halfway down the corridor to lunch—today being a Day 2 on North Willchester High’s schedule, I had English earlier. Cole caught up with me, waved a piece of writing paper breathlessly in my face, and panted out, “We found our Eye!”35

I blinked, absorbing this. “Brilliant!” I tore the piece of paper from his grasp and studied it to see which candidate’s article had made the final cut.36

Not surprisingly, the letters R/A H stared up at me from the subscript. In that instant, a horrible realization struck.37

Alan in English class, Alan during our library session . . . Alan, not as much of an empty-headed pretty-boy as I’d thought . . . 38

Alan Hartman. A.H.39

That’s just two letters, my mind expostulated plaintively. But still . . . 40

Oh, who was I kidding? There were dozens of kids whose initials stood for all three letters. And probably myriad of them would be able to write that well. What were the odds of Alan Hartman being the chosen one?41

Yet something nagged at my memory. Something Alan had said, something or someone involving an ‘R’.42

“He’s good, huh?” Cole asked, breaking me out of my reverie. “Good choice on that one, Em.” He grinned, patted my arm, and walked past me calling over his shoulder, “We’ll meet him at the next meeting, for this Wednesday. I’ve already met him. I gotta go finish some stuff now . . .”43

I nodded at him and then stood there as a peculiar thought came over me. It wasn’t like I wanted Alan to be the Eye. Because I didn’t. There was no reason for me to want him there. Because if he was . . . 44

I‘d have to face those fangs again.45

A shudder passed over me. All week long, I’d been oblivious. To what? I wasn’t sure. What was with those fangs? What non-supernatural rational explanation would Alan give, if I dared ask?46

I was rather literally shoved out of my thoughts, when a tall dark-haired guy stalked past me, barely glancing over his shoulder to see who he’d knocked down. I blinked, vaguely disoriented.47

“Luke!” I managed to catch up with him at the doors to the cafeteria and tugged on his arm impatiently. This whole ignoring-me façade he’d put on since this morning was not going down too well with me. A small voice in the back of my mind chirped cheerfully that hassling him might not be a good idea, considering he hadn’t been very conversational today, to the world in general and me in particular. 48

I had an idea as to what was the cause.49

Luke stopped in the doorway, causing a slight skirmish as the other kids swerved around him to get in. For a fleeting instant, his shoulders sagged slightly.50

To my surprise, he turned around and grinned at me. “Hey, Em.”51

I gaped, momentarily thrown. “Uh . . . hi. I was just—um . . .” I paused, trying to word what I wanted to say. I’d been thinking about it for about half the night.52

The other half had been tormented by visions of gleaming knife-like fangs. All in all, one memorable night.53

“You alright, Em?” Abruptly, Luke reached out and ran his thumb lightly along the underside of my left eye. Unnerved, I blinked again.54

“Yeah . . . why wouldn’t I be?” Ignoring the dark looks I was earning from several girls in the vicinity—I’d gotten used to that—I wondered if the turmoil in my restless mind was showing through my expression. One second he’d been perfectly fine ignoring me, and the next, he was concerned?55

His eyes clouded, and he dropped his hand quickly, as if I’d burned it. I stared at him, trying to figure out what had just happened, and he smirked lightly. “You look like you ran into Frankenstein’s Bride at the beauty salon, is why.”56

Typical Luke. I couldn’t help a grin.57

“Jerk,” was my profound reply, but I evened up the score by socking him on the shoulder. He gave an exaggerated wince, and then caught my wrist, pulling me toward him, and slung his other arm around my shoulder.58

I only recalled the reason I’d chased after him as he led me to our usual table.59

“Luke?”60

“Huh?” He started, as if breaking out of a trance. I followed the direction of his distant gaze and saw a raven-haired girl, curly locks spilling down to her wait, standing in the lunch line with her back to us. From my vantage point, she could’ve been my nonexistent twin.61

Cue second epiphany of the day. I suddenly had a vague idea why Luke had asked me all those seemingly-random questions a couple of nights ago.62

Luke turned his head to look down at me. “Yeah, sorry, I kinda got distracted by random thoughts.” He gave me a dimpled grin. “I’m weird like that.”63

I shrugged. Random thoughts? Care to elaborate on the name aspect? my mind asked. I shook off the thought and focused on what was more important right then.64

“Luke, you know how you came over Saturday night?”65

He paused, and I felt his arm stiffen slightly around my shoulders. “Yeah?”66

I looked away, admiring the dulled cafeteria flooring. At that moment,67

“Hey, Luke!” A couple of the cheerleaders most deserving of the title of Short Skirt Squad ambushed us just then, two of them tugging at Luke’s arm in overexcited greeting. Resisting the wild urge to groan out loud, I pulled free of Luke and strolled on, irritated, yet resigned. It wasn’t like it was his fault.68

Well, maybe it would’ve been a bit better had he not been such a flirt, but that was Luke for you.69

Surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to catch up with me and swing his arm back across my shoulders.70

“So, you were saying?” he continued, as if we hadn’t just been attacked by a horde of Amazon warriors. I paused to recall.71

“Well, I kinda . . . you asked me stuff and I wasn’t in a very good mood that day . . . I didn’t meant to snap at you like that.” I felt a vague burning in my cheeks and cursed mentally.72

A blush. Just what I needed to enhance that damsel-in-distress image I’ve come to love.73

“Emma?” Luke said quietly. I glanced up, feeling his tone to be safe.74

He was still grinning, but his eyes, instead of holding their usual amusement, looked oddly soft. “I figured as much. You didn’t sound very much like you. I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re thinking. What happened?”75

I froze for a moment, thrown by both the expression in his eyes, and the fact that I’d been up half the night for no reason. Maybe if we’d had this conversation two hours earlier, I wouldn’t have flunked my Calculus quiz so bad.76

Pitiful excuse. I probably would have crashed as awfully on a good night’s sleep too. Math never has been my greatest skill.77

“Um . . . I was just a bit stressed . . . work, assignments, too many extra helpings of extra-curriculars, stuff like that,” I told him, careful not to maintain eye-contact lest my expression gave me away. When I’d worked up the courage to look back, he was nodding, evidently satisfied.78

“Hey, Emmy. Hi, Luke,” several of the more amiable girls and Miranda greeted us, as Luke and I neared the table. Miranda glanced over at Luke, who still had his arm around me but seemed to have forgotten this and was already busy chatting to the other guys, and went, “Awww, isn’t that cute?”79

I shot her a look of stunned disbelief, but to my chagrin, Luke, who’d unfortunately caught this, simply grinned wider and lowered his arm to rest around my waist, pulling me closer to his side. I was suddenly breathing in a scent of musky cologne. His emerald-green eyes danced with amusement as he smirked at the blond cheerleader, ignoring the amused looks of the other guys.80

“Why, you jealous?”81

Great going, Luke, I thought, mortified, as the entire table glanced up at the word. Nothing like potential love-triangles to cause raised ears. I turned my head so he could read the incredulity written on my face, but his only response was a wink. He glanced back at Miranda who was, much to my amazement, flushing.82

“Of course not! I was just . . . teasing!” She snuck a peek at me. “Right, Emmy?”83

I raised an eyebrow. She had brought this down on herself. I guess Luke was as fed up of the “non-platonic” accusations as I was. Although I did wish he hadn’t felt the need to actually demonstrate the faux non-platonic act. His arm was beginning to feel awkwardly warm around me.84

Awkwardly comfortable.85

Scratch that askew thought. I gritted my teeth and pulled away, slipping into a seat. In my view, the Cirque Du Soleil had gone on long enough. 86

“Oh, be back with a drink. Want anything, Emmy?” I shook my head and Luke departed. I turned back to face Miranda, choosing to ignore the clench in his jaw. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what was up with those sudden mood-swings.87

Glancing around, I was relieved to note that Skylar wasn’t here just yet. She would have blown up faster than an over-pumped helium balloon.88

Unfortunately, this was my life, and in the soap opera of my life, every episode has to have its own calamity.89

“Hey, mind if I join you?”90

A chill swept over me and the entire table seemed to feel it, all of them falling into silence. I slowly turned my head to see who the unlucky recipient of that question was.91

Icy blue eyes met my own hazel gaze, their owner’s face slipping into a small grin of cavalier amusement. 92

It just had to be him. Oblivious of my racing heartbeat and the sudden funny jolt in my stomach, my suspicions went into PFO-mode. Alan never stepped into the cafeteria, much less sat with us. Why the sudden change of heart?93

“Sure, sit here!” Miranda was all-compassionate-hostess, immediately yanking a chair from the table behind her and tugging it so it near-crashed into the side of her own seat, it was so close. She beamed up at him, her perfect ivories gleaming like glass in sunlight. Alan glanced over at me, raised an eyebrow as if asking fervent much? and subtly shifted the chair with his leg so it was a few inches away from hers and then sat down.94

I wasn’t sure what to make of this. Wasn’t he supposed to be her new beau? Why the sudden comradeship to me?95

At this point, I decided that my chicken wrap was a lot more intriguing than I’d realized. If you stared at it closely enough, you could see the fine lines of chicken in—96

Alan was staring at me again, blatantly watching. No doubt about it. He'd leaned back in his seat, arms resting behind his head, and fixed those piercing blue orbs on me relentlessly. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling like George Bush in the middle of a gang of Obama supporters, complete with painfully-thudding heartbeat.97

A chair-leg scraped on my other side, and Luke sat down, barely sparing Alan a half-glance.  Taking a chance, I glanced over at the blond-haired guy.98

A corner of Alan’s mouth twitched as if he were trying not to laugh. His gaze had shifted from me to Luke, which, while a better alternative from my perspective, wasn't all that preferable, as Luke clearly did not find anything amusing about Alan watching him as if he bore some resemblance to a rare zoo-exhibit. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything, save for an eyebrow raise of his own back, before turning to the other guys again.99

I looked back up at Alan in time to see him grin at the oblivious Luke, before turning his head back to raise an eyebrow at me. To my extreme chagrin, I realized I’d been staring at his mouth.100

More precisely, at the spot where, had he spoken, his fangs would’ve been revealed.101

My cheeks flamed. To the ignorant onlooker, my glance would’ve implied something else. That was a point Alan appeared to have noted, judging by the mirth shining in his eyes. Hastily glancing over at Miranda, I bit my lip, wondering whether a solution to my hammering heartbeat lay in telling her what I’d seen. She may come off as a junior Ann Coulter, but I didn’t consider her my best friend for no reason.102

Besides, being stared at all day by a guy with deadly fangs tends to freak you out.103

And it didn’t help that said guy happened to be extremely easy on the eyes. Miranda was almost beside herself, chattering away to him, discarding her usual aloof demeanor in an attempt to win his attention. She, I realized in some dismay, had it bad. I tried to quell the twinge of discomfiture rising within.104

I honestly couldn’t figure this out. Half the time, he freaked me out, him and his set of unnatural teeth, but then the other half found me feeling like a third-grader with a silly crush.105

Say what? No crush! Mentally slapping my muse, I focused all of my energy into making lame conversation with anyone except for the guy with the eyes drilling holes in the side of my head.106

There must be some recorded case of ESP amongst best friends, because a moment later, Miranda shoved her chair back and stood up.107

“Hey, Em, come with me to the bathroom?” Her deep-blue eyes were shuttered, tone clipped, unusual for her at a time when she should’ve been on a high.108

Hence, I could tell she wasn’t really asking. More like ordering. Which was fine with me. I didn’t exactly want to stay under Alan’s icy gaze.109

I was half-expecting that what ensued would be me wasting half of my lunch hour listening to Miranda yap away about how Alan had taken her to this fancy Italian restaurant with an even fancier name that I’d forgotten the pronunciation of five seconds after she’d told me. All of which had been the brunt of our conversation Saturday night. 110

One bit had woken me though. 111

“He couldn’t make it Saturday, so he picked me up Friday evening.” The slightly distracted tone told me Miranda was either checking her flawless reflection, or daydreaming, or both. “Said he had to run chores or some other crap. But it just made that wonderful night come earlier!”112

He’d had to run chores, huh? I’d wondered where miniskirts and Ugg boots came in, in mowing the lawn.113

“I wanted to call you about it Friday night, but my dad turned up; he wanted to take us to his apartment. Like, what the hell?” My vivacious best friend had sulked through the phone and I’d nodded in sympathy, trying not to let my glee at having my Friday night spared shine through too palpably. 114

Personally, I’d rather endure a night of trash TV than listen to intimate details on Miranda’s five-hundredth date. The other four-hundred and ninety-nine times had versed me in this topic well enough. Down to the last hot detail on the current date’s physical appeal.115

When you come down to it, the only thing I came out with from all the phone calls was the fact that Alan Hartman had lied to my best friend . . . so he could cheat on her?116

I still wasn’t convinced. There must have been something else. The Alan I’d come to know so far—during the periods of time he was actually bearable—just didn’t seem like the player type.117

Miranda paused in front of the cracked mirror, running her hands through her silky hair. Her eyes darted to my reflection, and a small frown crinkled her forehead.118

“Emmy, what’s going on?”119

“Huh?” I asked, brilliantly. Miranda decided this was the wrong answer and scowled. I stared at her. 120

“What do you mean?” I asked, hesitantly. She spun to face me, and for a moment I wondered whether my whole freak-out with the fangs had been overly-obvious.121

“Why was he staring at you?”122

Okay, so her concern had nothing to do with me, but with Alan’s interest in me. Of which I was just as clueless.123

“I honestly have no clue—”124

“Spare me the pretty cover-ups, Emalyn,” Miranda snapped, irritably. My mouth dropped open.125

“Miranda, I can’t even stand the guy. You saw us in class. Wherever you’re going with this—”126

“Then why is he suddenly pretending I don’t exist?” she wailed. I resisted the urge to reply that he’d been busy chasing another girl. Who was not me.127

“Mind, I don’t know. I think . . .” I paused. I had to throw Miranda off somehow. “I think Alan and Luke have some sort of ego-race. They’re both trying to piss each other off,” I said. Miranda studied me for a moment.128

“So why you?”129

“It’ll tick Luke off if Alan implies he’s playing both you and me?” I suggested. “Luke already owes him an embarrassing scenario.”130

She appeared to be swallowing this. But then, even I was unsure. Why had Alan taken a sudden interest in me? What had changed?131

The incident at the coffeehouse came to mind. Did Alan suspect?132

When we got back to the lunch table, my mood plummeted further when I was confronted by a head of fiery red hair, its owner plopped comfortably in my seat, albeit having pulled it too close to Luke\s for my platonic boundaries. 133

I paused, attempting to ignore the meaningful gaze Alan turned on me, mentally debating how much the seat was worth rousing an argument with Skye over it for. Knowing her, she’d throw a hissy fit if asked to move away from the unwilling object of her affections. Regardless of the fact that said “object” was now attempting to lean as far away from her as he could without toppling over his own chair.134

Amusement worth paying for, I tell you.135

Rounding the table, I dropped my bag into a seat further down, which luckily offered refuge from burning blue-eyed gazes by way of muscular jocks. Unfortunately, green-eyed glares weren’t included in the package.136

Luke shot me a baleful look down the table, to which I replied with a helpless shrug. Poor guy. Skye was nearly in his lap by the time the bell rang. I tell you, if they hadn’t found an actress to play Brooke on One Tree Hill, Skylar would’ve owned the part.137

Chad Michael Murray should thank the heavens they did. 138

***139

“Some friend you are.” Luke sounded extremely chaffed as he walked with me to our Biology class. I threw a grin over at him, concentrating on not getting trampled in the post-lunch traffic jams in the school corridors.140

“Why didn’t you just get her to move?” You had to give the boy credit for perseverance. I sighed, pulling my mind away from navigating and Alan’s fangs, which had now officially claimed the top spot on my Thought List. If I ever died by stampede, it would be his fault.141

“She’d have caused a scene, you know that. I really . . . just wasn’t up for a Battle of the Curses with her today.”142

Luke fell silent for a moment and then said, “Why so dead, Em?”143

I started. He raised an eyebrow, reaching out a hand to hold open a door as we passed through. “Well, you’ve been a bit jumpy today, in case you didn’t notice.”144

Before I could answer, if I could have, a warm hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, gave a small yelp, and turned around—only to see my own reflection staring back at me from the depths of Alan’s crystalline eyes.145

I’ve never had a heart attack, but what I felt right then was the closest I’ve ever come to experiencing one. My heartbeat thudded to an incredible rate, pounding madly against my ribcage, the insides of my mouth dried up and chills swept down my spine.146

All because, in the single instant between my turning around and Luke’s noting I was no longer walking beside him,, Alan had grinned, a faux grin that left his blue eyes cold as ever.147

But gave me a momentary, excellent view of his fangs, gleaming for one second under the hallway lights, before he closed his mouth.148

Had he done this at a time the hallway was even remotely slower, he’d have had a dozen pairs of eyes on him and been sent to a freak circus in less time than it took Dee-Dee to trash Dexter’s lab.149

“Emmy, what’s—?” Luke’s voice trailed off as he caught Alan’s eye above my head. Hastily taking a step back so all six-plus feet of Alan’s height was in my view, I crossed my arms over my chest, determined not to let on how much he’d rattled me.150

“How can I help you?” That’s me, lucid as Hillary Clinton on sedatives.151

Alan responded with that trademark smirk. “When do you want to get together for the debate thing?”152

A moment of silence ensued during which several things happened. My brain jolted over its seatbelt and hit the windscreen that was my forehead, and Luke’s jaw nearly met the scrubbed linoleum floor.153

Study with him? So he can torment me some more? The answer to that one was obvious.154

But . . . why was I letting him torment me? What was the story behind those fangs? I was not about to get a failing grade on this assignment simply because my partner had oral surgery issues.155

I set my jaw, breathing out in an attempt to calm my quivering heart. “Library, tomorrow after school.”156

He nodded, running a hand through his messy blond hair, threw an amused look at Luke, and stepped past me, ignoring the blatant puppy-dog eyes several girls threw his way.157

Just before he rounded a corner, he looked back, caught my eye, and called, “The café was fun too, eh, Emmy?”158

Luke stared after Alan as the latter rounded the corner and then turned back to glare accusingly at me. “What was that about? Café? He’s the reason you missed half of Janie’s birthday?”159

You hear that creaking sound? It’s the sound of Pandora’s Box opening.160

“Luke, I didn’t tell you he was my English project partner because I knew that’s how you’d react. You were okay when I told you I had to work on it. Who cares if it’s Alan?” I beseeched, tentatively reaching out to pat his arm.161

Luke scowled darkly. “You know I can’t stand the guy.”162

I glanced at my watch, saw we had less than a minute to get to a class halfway across the school, and replied, “Well, I’m the one dealing with him.”163

Luke made a noise halfway between a snort and a growl, but let me drag him to class anyways. I guess he figured he could always chew me out over it later.164

I think that instance was another where I should’ve let on to him that things weren’t quite as right as I’d made them out to be. But it’s too late now.165

***166

Silvia didn’t turn up to school over the next couple of days. Miranda had a fit of best-friendly-compassion and decided I’d do well on the top spot. To which nicety, I replied that I had no wish to hand the fate of my future walking abilities to a bunch of preppies hyped up on diet soda.167

Offended, she turned around and handed it to Skylar. 168

The culmination of the week, however, happened at the Willchester’s Youth meeting on Wednesday.169

“Silvia?” I squinted, trying to make out the girl with her back to me, standing alone at the end of a row of lockers.170

The dark-haired girl turned to look at me, wide-eyed. My jaw dropped.171

Silvia’s usually tan skin had paled to the color of flour, making her resemble the victim of a massive leech attack. Her once-glossy curls hung damply and unkempt around her sallow face, which seemed to have shrunken to fit her cheekbones. She looked drained, almost as if she might topple over onto the floor, and her fashionable apparel looked like it was hung up on a coat-hanger.172

“Hey, Emmy.” Even her voice was alarmingly-thin, a tinny murmur that caused me to step back, chills shooting through me. She waved half-heartedly.173

“Silvia—what—how—where’ve you been?” I asked eventually, after the initial shock was over. She smiled feebly.174

“Oh, I’ve—been around . . . yeah . . .”175

That’s when I noticed it. The odd gleam on her face, an almost manic look in her eyes. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was enough to make me want to leave.176

As if she sensed it, Silvia took a lurching step forwards, swaying. “Where’re you going, Emmy?” Her blank eyes gazed at me, suddenly intensifying. She smiled slightly.177

I didn’t need to feel the horse race my heart was having to know that something was extremely wrong here.178

Silvia took another step forwards, her hand swiping out at my arm. I let out a startled yelp as she sank her fingernails into my arm. She grinned wider, almost maniacally.179

“Silvia?” The male voice spoke from behind me, and we both froze, Silvia relaxing her grip on my arm. I turned my head slowly to look over my shoulder.180

Just about the only thing that could’ve worsened the situation.181

A guy stepped out from the doorway down the hall that I knew to be the Willchester’s Youth meeting room. His silky blond hair gleamed under the sunlight filtering through the windows.182

Alan stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, arms crossed over his chest.183

 184