Page 11 of The Stars are Dying

My dry lips cracked open to ask why, but I thought better of it. My head couldn’t stop surveying, skin crawling with a sense of foreboding that strained every instinct in my body to go back.

The next form I spied locked my body with fright. I relaxed a fraction at the couple I found. The man held the woman tightly while her back curved, and I nearly looked away from their intimate kiss until I saw the first thing to turn my body ice-cold.

His pointed ears.

There were three types of vampires I knew to exist. Those who fed on souls: the soulless, who could be identified when their form cast no reflection. Those who fed on blood: the shadowless, told apart as their form cast no shadow. And creatures that were the reason people kept doors and windows locked tight after nightfall: the nightcrawlers, winged vampires who could not walk the daytime.

The first rule of survival was to never give a soul vampire your true name. It was how they drained the soul attached to it. Days, months, or years of a human’s life.

The second rule was to never willingly give a nightcrawler a taste, for once you did, you became their obsession, sometimes a lifelong toy whom they would visit after dark—and perhaps it was consensual, but if not, you couldn’t escape their infatuation unless you killed them. Or more likely, they killed you.

I watched the scene before me with horror, trying to back away soundlessly as the vampire detached himself from the woman. I couldn’t bite back my shuddering breath of terror at seeing her body dangling limp in his arms.

He’d taken it all…every decade, year, hour,minute, of that woman’s life.

The soulless locked eyes with me instantly. His skin was partially gray over his neck and along half his face, with eyes of obsidian that could consume the sun. He seemed to be indulging on the life form he took, breathing as if the air were a drug he couldn’t get enough of, and I watched in both twisted fascination and complete stilling fright as the grayness of his skin faded to match the pale complexion of the rest of him.

I tripped back as he let the woman’s body go without care, and my hand lashed over my mouth too late. He took his first step toward me as my ankle caught on something and dread tensed my fall. In my haste, my palm cut on a branch, but before my cry could escape at the sting, a form crouching over me turned it into a gasp.

His eyes weren’t black anymore. A mossy green hue began to flood his irises. Locking onto them stole my fight, and instead I felt the whisperings of my desire to stay conflicting with the repeating nudge to run. He was beautiful. The kind that shouldn’t be natural, further cracking the illusion I was being sucked into.

“Oh, little lamb,” he cooed, and even his voice pulled me into a trance. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to go wandering alone?”

I remained still as his attention fell to my bleeding palm, and he grabbed it. My vocals were silenced in sheer terror, and I watched as he pulled it closer to his face and took a deep, savoring inhale. The air breezed across the wet blood there, and to my complete shock, his tongue lapped over it with slow delight. My stomach heaved and I tried to yank my arm free, but he had an iron grip.

Those ethereal green eyes pinned me, wildly captivated. “I’ve not come across the likes of you in a very long time.”

I tried to reach for my dagger at my thigh, but my layers of clothing made it too difficult. The soulless fixed his hungry gaze on my neck. Was it possible for one vampire to crave both blood and souls? I didn’t think it was beyond reason, but certainly a new horror to discover at the wrong time.

“I was going to entice a name out of you, but you are made of something far more delectable than a soul. It looks like someone has tasted you before,” he said, leaning in closer, and my adrenaline raged fast and hot. “I wonder how they had the restraint to let you live.”

He became transfixed, letting go of my wrist to cup his hand to my neck. His vile body pressed into me harder against the damp ground, and his breath blew hot across my chilled ear.

“Don’t—” I whimpered.

It was hopeless to plead with a merciless creature. All I could do was slip my eyes closed and brace for the pain.

It never came.

Before his teeth could puncture my flesh, he let out a shrill cry that sent a sharp wince through me. Then he was pulled away, and I scrambled to push myself up. Propping myself up on my hands, I faltered at the sight of the soulless on his knees and the sword protruding from his chest.

My sight trailed up to my savior, and the light splitting through the heavy canopy made him appear ethereal. Lengths of dark hair braided tightly and held back from his face. Though he fixed a lethal look on the vampire, his features were beautifully soft against dark skin.

“Get up,” he barked.

That shook some sense into me. Covered in leaves, and with twigs catching on my clothing, I tried to brush myself off as he removed his blade. The soulless fell limp to the ground. My heart was a wild creature threatening to break its cage.

“Thank you,” I said breathily, trying to subdue the nausea rolling through my stomach.

The vampire’s blood added a sheen to the dirt and wilted the winter leaves, so stark I thought it to be black. I watched the man who’d saved me lean down and clean his blade. Only then did my breath catch at the familiarity. The deep purple steel I had only seen the likeness of once before. My hand subconsciously skimmed my thigh, feeling the bulk under my clothing that confirmed my stormstone dagger was still there.

“You mortals run around as if death is a fable,” he grumbled, sheathing his blade and finally straightening to land his full attention on me. When it did, something changed in his expression. It relaxed, turning to an assessment as he trailed deep brown eyes over every inch of my face, and I shifted under his keen interest. “What is your name?” he asked carefully, as if there was one he hoped—or expected—to hear.

I shook my head, mouth floundering, because I didn’t feel comfortable offering that piece of myself so readily to a stranger, soulless or not. His attire consisted of leather wears beneath a deep purple cloak that was clasped at one shoulder. It was somewhat different to what I’d seen around Alisus on my short ventures, with its scaly black texture and the craft of the materials.

“Thank you for saving me,” I said quickly, trying to backstep a few paces when he advanced slowly. “I-I have somewhere to be.”

“I asked you a question.”

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