The Box

It was an annual tradition for the outgoing high school class to have a bonfire and tell scary stories the night before graduation. Chloe sat opposite Tucker, self-proclaimed fear immune, who insisted that none of the stories were scary. He interrupted most of them with jokes, or spoiled the endings of ones he'd heard before.

It was Chloe's turn, and she was making one up on the fly, ignoring Tucker's interruptions and speaking softly to entice the others to listen closely and shush him for her. Always a wallflower, she hated the attention, but right now needed to make the most of it.

"...as soon as the old wooden box arrived at the doorstep, Mia knew the time had come. She took it inside and set it on the table, putting it in front of her husband. She untied his arm and gave him a choice; tell her the truth, or prove he was not lying.

'The box is magic from Old Country,' she told him, 'Separates truth from lies. An honest man does not fear it, but a liar will suffer fate worse than death.' She pushed it closer, a hole big enough for a hand on the top surface. He tried to look inside but saw only darkness. The man's confidence was his undoing though, and he gave her a defiant look and put his hand in the box."

Chloe was not great at making up a scary story so she went for visceral instead, describing every prick, pinch, and cut of the hand, breaking out near the end to her own dramatic scream of pain. She was happy to see Tucker flinch at it.

Letting the silence fill the air for a few extended moments, Chloe pulled a box out of her backpack. Polished wood with a black hole carved out of the top, big enough for a hand to fit.

"Tucker," Chloe started to walk around the bonfire towards him, "You were saying the box was fake?"

"Oooooo," one of the other guys that usually joked around with him called, "She callin' you out!"

"Pfft," Tucker said, standing up and rolling his shoulders. Chloe noticed his fingers flexing at his sides, as if he were fidgeting with a pen. He looked around the fire, a nervous smile on his face as he tried to say something. Probably a joke or a snarky remark.

Chloe held out the box, her heart racing in excitement. She lowered her head towards the dark wood, tilting it so that the gaping black hole was facing him. The fire light was hitting the side of the box, making the hole seem darker by contrast. "Go ahead," Chloe said, her voice as even as she could make it, "Put your hand in."

She wished that she could read his mind, to see what he was thinking. Did he fear pain? Did he fear a prank? Embarrassment? Her eyes were on Tucker's face the entire time, watching it shift through a multitude of emotions. None of them were an expression of confidence.

"Screw this," he said, smacking the box out of her hand and walking away, "I'm over this kid shit." A couple of his friends got up, jeering him and making fun of him for wussing out. Chloe watched them walk away into the darkness before picking up the box and laughing.

"What was in it?" someone asked.

"Exactly what Tucker's afraid of," Chloe said, pulling the latch from the side and swinging the box open. She turned it towards the fire to show everyone it was empty, "Nothing."

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WC: 597
r/TomesOfTheLitchKing

Tim was yelling at me to keep moving. Probably was easy for him to do. He was the kind of guy that looks like he spent every day in the gym, his stamina was probably through the roof. Me, on the other hand, did not posess that gift.

Kayla shushed Tim, but I doubted that she would be any more sympathetic than Tim was. “Get up Jasper, the sooner we get moving the sooner we can get out of this goddamn corn maze”.

“What’s the point?” I muttered, moving only to lie down instead of sit. “We all know that this maze should not be this long”.

It was actually one of the first things that we did after getting the job. We were taken on a walkthrough of the corn maze. Of course, calling it a maze would be a generous way of putting it, since it was just a winding straight line that cut through a cornfield, but I guess the whole point of it wasn’t for people to get lost in.

“I don’t think we’re getting out of here, I don’t think we can. Look over the stalks. There’s only corn. You should be able to see the festival, or the parking lot, or the town. But I honestly don’t think they exist anymore. It’s just like the broadcast said.”

Tim and Kayla exchanged looks. They both knew what I was talking about, but I knew they didn’t really believe it. Just a joke played by some of the older scare actors at the park. When they said that something weird was going on over the corn, I wanted to leave, but they insisted that I stayed. And here we are now.

“Just ask for help Tim, god knows we need it”

For the first time since meeting him, Tim seems to take my advice. He pulled the walkie from the executioners costume draped around him and pressed the button to connect us to the main office.

None of us expected to hear screaming. It was background noise on the walkie and half covered up by static, but it could still be heard. It sounded like we had gotten a broadcast from hell.

The walkie was shut off. We knew it wouldn’t do us any good.

And with no other option, we began walking again. What else was there to do.

<Lothli & Maishul>

Chapter 2: Mountain Dew® Code Red®

Heya! Welcome back to Maishul & Lothli, the only show where we keep it real by exploring different realities! I'm your host, Maishul! Let's get into it!

Once upon a time, in the far, far future, there was a girl named Lothli. She lived in a town where strange things happened every night. For example, her favorite Barbie doll got flushed down the toilet.

Anyways, Lothli looked into the refrigerator to make some fried rice. Unfortunately, there was no rice in the fridge, but instead there was an entire human head.

"Oh my goodness, there is an entire human head in the fridge. This is frightening," Lothli screamed in terror.

Lothli then closed the fridge and ignored the problem like how she ignored her chores. She decided that to fix this mess, she should go to the store to buy rice. How else could she make lunch?

And so the girl set off into the night, the stars above shining with evil intent. They plotted ways to ruin Lothli's day, like maybe untying her shoelace or putting her toilet paper in the holder backward.

Fortunately, our unsuspecting heroine managed to reach the local supermarket without any trouble, since the stars were too busy plotting. The signboard was usually yellow and said "SUPERMARKET", but today, it was red and said "SUBPARMARKET." This was a clear sign that the building was haunted, but Lothli, either due to cowardice or to ignorance, entered the store anyways.

Once inside, our intrepid protagonist immediately noticed the state of disrepair the store was in. The lights were off, and there were mysterious puddles of fluid on the floor. Most shockingly of all, the shopping baskets were unstocked.

"I suppose the employees must be on break," Lothli mused to herself. "There's no other reason the shopping baskets shouldn't be stocked."

Shrugging her shoulders, our reluctant heroine continued on her journey to the grains aisle. However, she was blocked by a massive stack of Mountain Dew® Code Red®, the most frightening soft drink.

The sudden appearance of the devilish soda was too much for our unlikely protagonist. Her mind was flooded with horrifying images. Her parents, drowning in Mountain Dew® Code Red®. Her life's work, dissolved in Mountain Dew® Code Red®. That one time her sister said she actually LIKED Mountain Dew® Code Red®.

The mental distress was too much to bear. Our beleaguered heroine collapsed to her knees.

"Not the... Mountain Dew® Code Red®..." she whimpered.

The sickening red fluid coalesced into the shape of a gigantic, writhing bag of rice.

"Muahaha! Now you will NEVER obtain the rice you crave!" the Mountain Dew® Code Red® cackled.

That's right, the fried rice... Lothli's feeble mind recalled what she was fighting for.

With a mighty roar, our brave protagonist broke free of the mental restraints cast onto her by the Mountain Dew® Code Red®. Thoroughly shaken by this encounter, Lothli continued on her trepidatious journey.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, our intrepid heroine had made it to the grains aisle. However, the greatest obstacle of all still stood between her and her rice.

Its eyes glowed red as it cried hyper-realistic blood. Its clothes were ragged and torn, with the souls of those it had already devoured screaming against the fabric. Its nametag read, "Hi! I'm Bob."

"The store is now closed. Please exit the store premises," the monster roared.

Lothli made a face that looked like this: D:

But making a strange face was not enough. Her soul was stolen and embedded within the creature's clothes.

The moral of the story? Never try to purchase rice.

WC: 600

Chapter Index

<= Previous Chapter / Next Chapter =>

"I've always been told I was useless and I've always ignored it, never resisting. My self-estime has been damaged over the years after the continuous abuse. Yet I'm really useless. I'm about to lose my family but I can't do anything about it. I'm aware that I don't owe them anything and many people would even argue that after all the pain they put me through I shouldn't be worrying about their safety. Even coming here was a coincidence. They didn't invite me originally but my brother couldn't make it and they would lose the vacation if they didn't have the right number. Now I know why. I'm scared. I can't even tell anybody, not that anyone would believe me to begin with. What should I do? What should I do?!"

He knew that coming would be a mistake but he never thought his family's vacation to the old, rundown resort would turn into a nightmare that he would have to face alone.

The air was stagnant and it felt stuffy inside the wardrobe. Mark was hiding away from his little cousins that wanted to practice boxing on his body. That's the only reason he entered the dusty wardrobe hidden in the corner of the room. It was there that he saw 'them'. In his horror he initially didn't know what to do except being scared but a photo suddenly fell from the wooden panel onto his head. Still, it wasn't until he a glint of silver coming from the pocket of an old jacket caught his attention that he put together the truth.

Suddenly, the air around him grew cold and he felt like he was being watched. As he turned around, he saw a shadowy figure dart past the wardrobe and disappear into the darkness. He tried to shake off the feeling, but he couldn't ignore the sense of dread that hung in the air. He paled. The nausea made its presence known causing him to frown.

Mark clutched the photo and ticket tightly in his hand, his heart racing with fear and desperation. He knew that his family was in grave danger, but he didn't know what to do. He felt useless and alone.

As he tried to gather more information, he noticed that strange things were happening all around him. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath. "Shadows moving on their own, whispers echoing through the house when I'm alone, and this feeling that someone is watching me. Did they notice me?"

The atmosphere felt eerie and even the creaking sounds that accompanied his steps gave him goosebumps. He was growing increasingly panicked as the minutes turned into hours: there wasn't much time. Why is nobody else noticing anything strange? Is he hallucinating? The cold breath of death felt so close he could no longer think clearly.

He had nobody he could confide in. He tried to tell his family, but they just laughed it off saying "it's ridiculous, you are ridiculous! There's no need to try to scare us with those fake props you poorly made".

One night, Mark woke up to find himself standing in front of the wardrobe, with the same old photograph clutched tightly in his hand. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he knew that he was being drawn to it by some unknown force. He wanted nothing to do with it. He wasn't even supposed to come here!

The room was freezing and the stench of decay filled his nostrils. "What the hell is going on?" Mark exclaimed. "Why is this happening to me? I just want to get out of here." However complaining was useless. A disgusting feeling came from his ankle which was being wrapped by something slimy. "Oh god," he gasped. "Please, just let me go. I don't know what you want, but I don't want any part of this."

It was at that moment that a lightning bolt struck the tree outside, illuminating the room in a flash of light and scaring away that tentacle.

Mark finally realised that, while he couldn't do much, there was something he could do: he could save himself and the few innocent animals whose only fault was to have terrible owners. He could run away. He could have escaped when he first discovered 'them' but he felt compelled to do something. It wasn't necessary. You can't save those that don't want to be saved. Those ungrateful fools would sacrifice him for their safety, why should he satisfy them? Those people didn't deserve his pity not his guilt.

Less than a month later, news came that there was an accident at the resort, and it was shut down. Mark's family never came back. There's a thing that Mark was oblivious to a cold breath was constantly blowing on his neck.

Ow. Ow ow ow.

My eyes peeled open to be seared by what had to be the brightest overhead lights I had ever seen. Every piece of me was racked with pain, except for my hands and feet which had lost all feeling due to overly tightened restraints. I could feel my back sticking to the metal slab beneath me, adhered by fluid that I feared was mine. I could hardly breathe the burning antiseptic air, underscored by a sharp tang of iron, copper, and fear. I managed to lift my head and saw crude stitching across my stomach and chest. Too exhausted and frightened to vomit, I turned my head and saw other gurneys with fellow victims strapped in, similar inflicted wounds covering their bodies, blood running in rivulets down from their slabs, across the white tile to a floor drain. I could see their chests rising and falling, too rapidly. They too struggled to breath. I tugged at my restraints, and to my utter surprise, yanked one free.

Unsure when our tormenters would return, I frantically clawed at the remaining straps. I heard voices echoing down the hallway outside the door and increased my efforts for freedom. Success! I rolled off and hit the floor, almost blacking out. I pulled myself upright and staggered forward, intent on leaving the others behind. I had to get free! I could bring reinforcements for them later – I was only an engineer; I wasn’t trained for combat. The room stretched in front of me, each step seeming to take me farther from the door. I slipped back down to the floor, thirst and blood loss taking their toll. I looked back and cursed. I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t leave them. I told myself this was practical – if I collapsed, another would have a chance to escape and bring rescue. I crawled back and went to each of the three tables, fumbling to free them from their straps. I could here one of them stirring, and hoped my efforts were enough – the voices were getting closer.

Crawling now towards the door, I pushed myself to keep going. I finally reached it and pulled myself up against the doorframe. I staggered down the hall and almost collapsed when a blaring klaxon pierced my ears. I heard a cacophony of voices and booted feet thumping toward me. I’d never outrun them, but maybe one of my crewmates could get out. I shouted to bring the hoard toward me and turned toward the heavy door with a push bar in front of me. Big letters brilliant red glared down at me.

EXIT

I hope that meant a way out. I pushed through and staggered onto pavement. My breaths came harder; this atmosphere wasn’t right for my lungs. I squinted, trying to see past the shining lights that were pointed at me. I couldn’t equilibrate fast enough – I felt dry hands grab me and force me to the ground. One of the torturers xyr white coat leaned down into my face – ugly tiny eyes boring into mine. Xyr headfur was tied back and xyr pale washed-out face smooth of lines. Blunt teeth flashed as xyr mouth pulled back and babbled something at me. I stared hard back – my unblinking black eyes, huge in comparison, elicited a shudder. I was roughly dragged back to the room of horrors, but to my delight, one of the tables was now empty. This planet will be dust.

I have worked at the Hell House for 22 years. Sounds scary doesn’t it... It terrifies me, I have spent half my life working here.

Hell House is a fun fair attraction at Happy Land Park. In it’s hey day it was a belter, with brand new animatronics and a whole cast of actors. Now the Day-Glo paint is flaking off in great big chunks and the only actors left are me, Peter and Patsy a 40 a day habit ex-glamour model.

I am the vampire. My costume has not exactly stood the test of time. You could say my body has outgrown the garb somewhat. My stomach protrudes over the belt of my black trousers and the buttons on my red waistcoat are straining. My hair is not what it once was, I have a bald spot where once was a mop of curly brown hair.

Since Julie left me, I do not have much and stay in a caravan on the grounds of the fun fair.

Today we have a bus load of kids coming in on a school trip. I am not the best with kids to be honest, the youth of today are unruly and have no respect.

12.30pm comes and the kids have exhausted the other attractions and the last one on their list is Hell House.

I stand at my appointed spot behind the coffin suspended from the ceiling. I am meant to jump out and shout “I want to suck your blood”. The tracks rattle as the cart containing the teenagers makes it way.

I hear a crash and see Patsy stumbling towards me. She is dressed in her usual nurse’s uniform, as the assistant to the animatronic crazy doctor. I notice some thing is off, she has fake blood spattered across her throat. “You have gone all out today, Patsy!” I shout to her. She tries to reply but all I can hear are wet gurgles. Patsy falls at my feet. I notice this is no sfx make up. Her throat has been slashed, the blood spurts in an arc onto my trousers. Patsy’s nicotine-stained fingers claw desperately at her throat to try and stem the flow of blood but there is no stopping it. Her breathing sounds like she is blowing bubbles under water, then it stops and her head drops. Her bleach blond hair falls across her face, it looks as if she has dyed some parts crimson.

I scream and scrabble away from Patsy’s body. Patsy’s stage was the one before mine, that means whoever did this must be coming my way and will kill me too. I do not want to die in a crumbling old fake haunted house.

I have to get out of here. I turn to run towards the safety of the lit-up sign of freedom, when I pause. The voices of the children still in their carriage carries to me over the creaking of hydraulics.

I cannot leave the children here, can I? There is a murderer...but Julie always said I was good for nothing so maybe I should just mind my own business.

“Oh, for effs sake” I whisper and go in search of the kids. I climb over the terrain of cardboard werewolves and under some real and artificial cobwebs. The children’s car is in front of me. There is a man in an overall, armed with an axe. I curse my bad luck, I have no weapon, no way out so I scream for the kids to run.

I see them escape just before the axe splits my head in two.

  600 words

Yann suddenly opens his eyes, woken up by a chilling sensation all over his body. The shock left him unable to move, but his heart was still beating at a fast rate, and he could feel his pajamas stuck to his torso by sweat. His breathing was erratic but mostly silent, and his sleeping position on the back made him look like a plank of wood on a carpenter’s desk.

The young boy took deep breaths as he stared at the room’s ceiling. It is still nighttime. This is the room he slept in. It’s darker than usual. The old bed is damaging his back. There is a slight air current coming from somewhere. His body is not restrained in any way. After assessing the situation, Yann could feel his heartbeat and breathing slowly adjusting their paces. Not fully relaxed, he slowly turned his head to the side to check the rest of the room, only for his heart rate to ramp up again.

The smaller bed across the room, lit up by a nearby lamp for children, was loomed over by a tall, slim, unmoving figure draped up in floating clothes. From his position, Yann could not see much of the apparition, let alone its face, but he could recognize it nonetheless, and the thought of being correct made him even more anxious. Slowly getting up from his bed, Yann called out in a weak voice.

“Mom ?”

The figure did not seem to react. Only the wind blowing from the open window responded with a gust. More chills ran across Yann, but instead of paralysis, agitation was overtaking him. He had to move. But he did not fully recover yet. His breathing started to accelerate again. His attempts at moving were too slow and messy. But there was no time to waste.

“Mom ? When did you get here ?”

Yann was now almost up from his bed, but his legs refused to move immediately. He kept looking at the apparition, expecting it to move, fearing its next action.

“Please… Get out of our room.”

As if to answer Yann’s anticipation, the figure slowly got closer to the infant’s bed it was guarding. Thin arms moved from the apparition and, in delicate gestures, reached out to the still sleeping boy inside the bed.

“No… Get away…”

Yann’s legs were still numb. The poor boy could only call out from across the room in a trembling voice, as the figure was now right above the infant. No expression to see. No feelings to percieve. No love to sense. White cold fingers softly caressed the toddler's cheeks, before moving toward the hips for a pick-up motion.

“Get away from my brother !”

Yann suddenly jolts from his bed and recklessly leaps towards the figure. The lamp turned off and left the room in complete darkness.

Soon after, the lamp turns back on again. Yann was resting awkwardly upon the side of the infant’s bed, watching his little brother sound asleep. With no energy left, the big brother stayed in his uncomfortable position, close to his precious sibling. No matter what, he promised. To keep his brother safe from scary monsters. After all, this is what their mother would have wanted.

-------

WC : 540

I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it.

It's been an hour since I last saw my brother disappear into the creepy, abandoned house at the end of our street. I was meant to be look-out, staying alert and aware for anyone wandering down this part of town at night, using my flashlight to flash twice as a signal. But I had barely been able to tear my eyes away from the house the entire time.

God. That house.

Big, ugly and old; older than anything else on our street. The wood was rotting but somehow never gave way, the windows were dirty but still intact. It creaks eerily and I get the feeling... it was watching me back.

I supress a shudder and try double-clicking my light again.

My brother was meant to check-in every five minutes with a double-flash of his own through one of the windows. But I haven't seen his light go off in over an hour now. Fighting a wave of panic, I double-click my flash light again.

And again.

Nothing.

I close my eyes and exhale slowly through pursed lips. The thought that the house has swallowed him whole invades my mind and I immediately push it back out. It's just a house, I tell myself. Wood and glass and concrete. Nothing more.

I look up and feel it looming over me.

Nothing more.

I hop from one foot to the other, head swivelling as I scan the street. There's no one here, no one to help us. I'm the only one to save my stupid brother. Balling my hands into fists, I give a low, reluctant groan and run into the house.

As soon as I shut the door behind me, the house swallows all sound. The only thing I can hear is my own breathing, loud and ragged against the silence. It's dim but not pitch black and I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the gloom so I can find my brother. But I don't need to go far.

He's standing at the end of the long, narrow hall, facing the wall. He's upright but limp, his arms hanging by his sides and his shoulders hunched slightly. I stare, waiting for him to move but he doesn't. He just... stands there.

"Hey..." I don't know why I whisper when it's just us in the house but something deep inside me is warning me against loud noises. Are we alone in the house?

My brother doesn't turn around.

Sweat runs down my back, despite the damp coolness in the air. Everything in my brain screams at me to turn around and leave. But I can't; I can't leave him here.

I creep along the hall, wincing with every squeak in the floorboards. My brother stays still. I reach out, my hand quivering, and gently touch him on the shoulder. He turns around.

He's not my brother.

&#x200B;

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489 words

u/StormLomax

I never thought I'd find myself in the middle of a horror story. Yet, there I was, driving through the deserted mountain roads of Uttarakhand, India at night, wondering if the high fare was worth it. As I drove further into the mountains in my trusty black ford, the roads became more winding and narrow, and the darkness seemed to envelop me. My passenger, an old gentlemen with a grey beard, was sleeping peacefully through the ride.

For hours, my path was lonely, with my engine being the only disturbance in the mountains. But suddenly, I spotted another car's lights in the distance. I could even spot the car model, a dusty white Honda Civic. We drove together for a bit before the car turned off the road and disappeared into the darkness. The road ahead was empty once more. However, now I could see another white car's headlights in my rear-view mirror.

I had been driving alone for so long that the sudden presence of yet another vehicle was jarring. I felt as though I was in some kind of a strange, eerie dream, where nothing made sense. I tried to concentrate on the road ahead. As soon as I looked away, I could no longer see the car in my rear-view mirror. But another car had appeared right in front of me.

Was it the same car from before? I could clearly remember the car taking a steep turn and disappearing. I slowed down a little to see if the car behind me would catch up, but there was no sign of it.

I looked back for a second to see if the passenger was up, and immediately saw the bright white light of a car behind me again. The car ahead me was gone. At this point, I decided I needed a break. I pulled over, letting the other car pass. But no car did. My heart was pounding in my chest as I jolted my passenger awake and told him about what was happening.

"You should not have stopped the car. We have to walk to the next village. They’re coming."

The car failed to start. We stepped out of the car, the cold mountain air hitting us. I shivered, feeling a sense of unease. The cold air was making me weary, but the old man urged that we keep moving.

Suddenly there was a loud rumble of sorts, piercing through my ears. The man seemed to recognize it and told me to run. I could suddenly hear the sound of footsteps behind us, getting closer and closer. We broke into a run, our breathing ragged, our hearts pounding in our chests. Something was getting closer.

My passenger could not run any longer and urged me to escape without him. I reluctantly put my arm around him and helped him move. The chances of me surviving in this hell alone were slim anyway. He had started to chant something in a local language. I could not tell if the footsteps were behind me or ahead of me. Everything was getting blurry. I saw the old man walk ahead of me as my vision faded to black.

I was driving a car again. I was back on that road, and I spotted a car’s lights in the distance. Had I just blanked out? I drove fast as I could, trying to close the gap. As I drew closer, I could make out the model of the car. It was a black Ford, and I realized I was in a white Civic.

[removed]

Lyla's Hunt

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“It’s in the family name.”

“You have to follow in your great grandfather’s footsteps, all of us did.”

“Who else but our family to keep them in line?”

“You’re a disgrace if you think about not honouring the family name.”

Lyla Van Helsing had heard everything from her whole family. She hadn’t wanted this accursed name any more than she had wanted to live anywhere near the Old World houses her family owned. Abraham Van Helsing had been a legend. He alone had slayed the legendary Dracula. Lyla was just someone with the same last name as far as she was concerned.

It was a lot to live up to. Lyla hadn’t even gone to a “normal” school. She had specifically be given a special place in the “Van Helsing Institute for Monster Hunters” in order to prepare for her eventual place as the family hunter. Her brother Isaac had revelled in it. Lyla had tried to actively get dismissed from the school.

It never happened of course. A Van Helsing getting expelled from the Institute was unheard of. Actively poor academic or not, Lyla did end up becoming skilled in the family trade. Much to her chagrin, Lyla was about to embark on her first hunt.

It was traditional to have a target given to the newest Van Helsing a target Vampire. Lyla was getting a particular nuisance of a Vampire as her target. Outside of the small town of Valeyick, no one knew much about the Vampire other than the fact it was there.

Lyla tugged at the traditional leather corset that covered most of her torso for protection over the simple cloth shirt that covered the rest of her upper body. During her travels the outfit had become uncomfortable, but she would have to manage. Until she completed her first hunt, Lyla was stuck in traditional clothes.

The village seemed empty as Lyla arrived. Cold wind blew through the streets. Lyla couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as she worked through the wet cobblestone streets. It was like reading one of her ancestor’s stories. The cliched small town that was abandoned to the vampires, bad weather, eerie silence. Part of her almost wondered if it was all a set up.

“You must be after me, aren’t you?”

Lyla almost jumped out of her skin at the voice. A young man stepped out of the shadows. The pallor of his skin and blood-red eyes told Lyla that this was her vampire.

“So you’re the vampire?” Lyla said, trying to remain calm.

“Dracile is the name. That would make you the Van Helsing that’s after me then. Great Grandfather Dracula warned the family about you in his journals. One of your family already got to Ílsa. I won’t, what the phrase, ah ‘Come quietly’ if that’s what you’re after.”

Lyla sighed heavily at the theatrics of how Dracile was acting. Her eyes flashed an electric blue a she tapped into the old magic and instantly moved to strike. Her attack wasn’t even registered by the vampire as she drove the stake deep into his heart in the same instant she arrived within striking distance. Dracile shuddered at the impact, the wood stake killing him, letting him live long enough to hear Lyla’s words.

“I wasn’t expecting it. I don’t want to be here, but you need to be dead. Tell Satan the Van Helsings send their regards.”

Lyla let the dead vampire drop to the ground. She let out what felt like the millionth sigh that day. So much for not wanting to be a Van Helsing.