Page 57 of My Mr. Vampire

The room itself told the story of a life interrupted. Posters of musicians covered one wall. Family photos lined a small bookshelf with the victim, smiling with what must be her parents, a graduation photo, a younger sibling. A desk held a laptop, and a coffee mug printed with “Black Girl Magic” that held pens, highlighters, and plastic utensils.

I didn’t touch the body, but I leaned closer, examining the wild wounds. Teresa wasn’t feeding for sustenance. The typical vampire bite was precise—two puncture marks, minimal tearing, designed to heal quickly and leave the victim confused but alive. This was different. This was rage. Or something else.

The girl couldn’t be more than twenty. Her braids fanned out on the blood-soaked pillow. A silver necklace with a small cross gleamed at her throat.

Why her? Why here? Chicago had no shortage of easier targets. There were the homeless people and drunk partygoers. There was anyone Teresa could feed on without drawing attention, the police or the local news.

I scanned the room for anything that might explain Teresa’s dangerous choice. A corkboard next to a dry erase board above the desk held more photos and what looked like concert tickets.

Nothing about this young girl immediately jumped out as a connection to Teresa or vampire business. There was no indication this girl was involved in our world at all. She appeared to be just a student, bright and ambitious, with her life violently cut short.

I backed away from the bed, wiping my palms on my jeans, though I hadn’t touched anything in the room. The scent of freshblood was making my head swim. The tangy aroma brought my hunger to the surface. I swallowed hard, forcing it down. Not here. Not from her. Only the lowest of the vampire species would drink from the dead.

Teresa’s motivation for this careless crime didn’t make sense. This murder would draw the attention of the campus police and probably CPD detectives. The crime was messy and risky for all vampires in the city. We worked hard to keep our kind under the radar of human notice. Teresa knew that. So why would she break the rules so flagrantly?

Maybe that was exactly her intention. Maybe she wanted to create chaos and to challenge my brother’s authority. I had to face the possibility she wanted to send Zand a message. Or perhaps the message wasn’t for Zand at all.

I checked the room once more for anything I might have missed. No sign of a struggle beyond the immediate area of the bed. The girl was likely asleep when Teresa entered. There was no indication of theft. Just a brutal feeding that crossed the line into a vicious murder.

I had to report this to Natasha, but not yet. I traced Teresa’s movements tonight and believed she might return to Club Bailar Caliente. I needed more intel before I contacted Natasha. I needed to see what Teresa was up to and who she was acquainted with. This random killing felt like a part of something larger. I needed to understand the complete picture before bringing my findings to Zand and Natasha.

I needed to be inside of Club Bailar Caliente. But I also needed to blend in at a Mexican club. I only knew of one person who can blend in at any function. Morgan. With me, she wouldn’t be in danger. She was what humans called multi-racial or racially ambiguous. Morgan’s striking good looks would help me blend in. With her, we were just another couple out for a night on the town. With her, I wouldn’t appear suspicious.

I slipped out of the dorm room, using my sleeve to close the door behind me. There was no need for some student to walk down the hall and glance inside at the gruesome scene. The hallway remained empty at this late hour. It was eerily quiet compared to the horror that had taken place just a few feet away. I moved quickly toward the stairwell. I wanted to avoid the elevator. Inside the metal box, I would be trapped in close quarters with the residents.

I stepped outside and the night air felt clean compared to the blood-scented room. I gulped the air in, trying to clear my head as I pulled out the burner phone Natasha gave me. I should call her first, report what I’ve found. But she’ll order me back, pull me off the surveillance. And something tells me I needed to stay on Teresa’s trail, especially now.

When I was free of the dorm, I walked to the curb and took one last glance back at the dormitory. The building looked peaceful. Its inhabitants were unaware of the predator who walked their halls tonight. Unaware of the death in room 317. Tomorrow, there will be screams. Police. Questions. But tonight, the girl died alone, her blood cooling on sheets that once held only her personal dreams.

I took a leisure trek back to my parked car. I sat in the driver’s seat and shoved the burner phone into my jacket pocket. I leaned over into the passenger seat and reached into the glove compartment for my personal cell phone. I dialed Morgan’s number from memory. She answered on the third ring.

“Where are you?” There was no greeting. Just a question laced with a possible accusation.

“Morgan, it’s Harlen.”

“I know that.” I could almost see her eye roll through the phone. “Where are you?” She barked. I liked this possessive, bossy version of her. This was the woman that knew I was a vampire but didn’t care. We had a brief conversation about myaffliction and that was that. I like her too much to keep it from her. Plus, I had a feeling she already knew. She didn’t ask to see my fangs. There was no mention of holy water, garlic, or crucifixes.

“I’m out on a job for Natasha.”

“When are you coming back?” Did she mean back to the loft or to the apartments? “I need a favor.”

“A favor?” There was a pause, presumably as she checked the time. “At midnight?”

“I didn’t know it was that late.” I did.

“What’s the favor?”

“Natasha wants me to check out this nightclub.”

“Okay and?—”

“I was thinking you could come here and be with me.”

“To the club?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious?”

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