Alvina Hutcherton lifted her nose to the sky, spread her fragile, black wings, and reveled in the crisp, night air. She hadn’t been able to fly in years. Old age was a downer, even for a bat. But every night, Nurse Shelly would put on her black sunhat, perch Alvina on top of it,
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A good neighborhood stakeout always starts with a comfy porch swing and my famous pound cake. Archie’s curled up on my lap, watching the street for any sign of Uncannies—or rabbits. Ever since he got into a scuffle with a bunny—and lost—he’s been on his guard.
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Most students went home for the holidays, but not us boys at the Reformatory School for Troubled Young Monsters. We had to stay and face the longest, hardest exam of the whole year. That’s what we got for being little criminals.
The morning of the exam, I went to the library,
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Young folk these days.
I squint between my window blinds. Amelia has another new beau—a tall, brooding fellow. They walk hand-in-hand down the street toward my house, chatting.
I frown. I haven’t met this one yet. Usually she brings them by for my inspection first, just to be safe.
They stop walking, and he leans down—
Jane’s stomach tightened as she neared the door. She paused to adjust her glasses. “Sal, are you sure a human is okay at a xaether’s party? I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Sal pulled her through the entryway. “Don’t worry. You’re hardly one to cause a stir. Plus, xaethers are a couple millennia old.
There were no bats. So weird. Most vampires enjoyed playing into the stereotypes. Throughout her volunteering as a bloodlender, Emily had seen shutters painted blood red, fang-shaped windows, and even encountered guard bats that pooped on her head.
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By Cadi Murphy Eamon tightened his jaw, pressing the tips of his fangs against his bottom lip. His specs slipped down the bridge of his nose. He hurriedly shoved them back so he could watch the werewolf boy swaggering toward him between the dusty library bookshelves. This was the leader of the largest student gang,
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He didn’t see me watching him. Even if he’d noticed, he would have assumed I was flirting rather than reading his mind.
I climbed off the bar stool and followed him. I couldn’t allow him to make it back to his apartment. Once he crossed the threshold of his hallowed abode, I’d have to be welcomed inside.
When she finally focused on me and our desolate surroundings, her blue eyes widened and fear swept her features. Even so, her face held the beauty of perfection: pale and delicate, looking silver in the moonlight, just like I knew it would.
“I am offering you a better fate than the one you chose for yourself.”
This close to a master bloodfencer, the crude piece of metal in my earlobe burned like hell. I itched to take it out, but it was all that guaranteed my sanity.
Sweat slicked the grip of my hydropistol as I watched Lord Dreadsower, the bloodsucking, self-proclaimed deity of this town, swoop into the alleyway to meet my partner.
My throat is so dry. My tongue so swollen. All I can think of is the great thirst within me. The need to find the one thing which will satisfy my soul—or, what was once my soul before it was stolen from me.
Blood. I need blood. And I need it now.
Only someone with a death wish would risk trespassing on werewolf territory during the full moon, but Tari was good as dead anyway.
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