Fright Files - World History with the Vampire

“You’re going, Dylan. End of discussion.” My dad leaned against the dining room table, his arms crossed like I’d just asked for a tattoo and a motorcycle.

“I don’t see the point,” I muttered, staring at the glossy flyer for the community college’s World History at Night program. “It’s summer. Normal people are at the pool or playing video games not studying the Byzantine Empire.”

My mom, ever the voice of overenthusiastic reason, chimed in. “Exactly why you should go, sweetheart. You’ve spent enough time cooped up in this house. This is your chance to experience a real classroom environment.”

“I have a classroom environment,” I said, motioning to the small desk in the corner of the living room where I’d been homeschooled since kindergarten. “It’s right there.”

Dad sighed. “Dylan, we’ve discussed this. College is different. It’s important you learn to thrive in a competitive academic setting.”

“And to meet people,” Mom added with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll love it. You’ll see.”

I wanted to argue, but when the Novaks made up their minds, it was game over. That’s how I ended up with the strict homeschooling and an honest to goodness chore schedule. Printed and laminated.

My parents were the champions of rules. My life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly normal either.

“Fine,” I mumbled, grabbing the flyer. “But if this turns out to be a waste of time, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mom said, clapping her hands. “Now, make sure you pack a notebook and pens. And no hoodies they’re too casual.”

I groaned. “You want me to wear a suit or something?”

“No one’s wearing a suit,” Dad said, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t embarrass yourself.”

I trudged up the stairs to my room, feeling like I’d just signed up for boot camp instead of a night class. Pushing open the door, I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. My room was the one place where I could escape all the Novak rules. Posters of sci-fi movies and video games covered the walls, and my desk was cluttered with sketchpads, action figures, and the occasional stray comic book.

Pulling out my laptop, I logged into the chat I shared with my best well, only friend, Logan Parker. We’d met on a forum for indie horror games and hit it off immediately. He was a thousand miles away in Kansas, but that didn’t stop us from talking almost every day.

Dylan: Guess what? My parents are forcing me to take a night class at the community college.

Logan: LOL what? Why?

Dylan: Because “it’s important to meet people” and “thrive academically.”

Logan: Sounds like a cult. Are you gonna have to drink the Kool-Aid too?

Dylan: Probably. I don’t even like history.

Logan: Dude, this could be good for you. Maybe you’ll meet some cool people. Like a hot goth chick who loves ancient Egypt or something.

Dylan: Yeah, right. More like I’ll meet a bunch of nerds who think Julius Caesar invented pizza.

Logan: Whatever. Just don’t be that kid who sits in the back corner doodling dragons.

Dylan: …I am that kid.

Logan: LOL okay, fair. But seriously, try to have fun. Who knows? It could be interesting.

I sighed. Logan always made everything sound easy. If he were in my shoes, he’d probably have half the class following him on TikTok by the end of the week. Me? I’d be lucky if I made it through the first night without embarrassing myself.

By the time 6:30 rolled around, I was as ready as I’d ever be. I pulled on a button-down shirt to appease Mom and grabbed my backpack. As I headed downstairs, Dad handed me a water bottle and patted my shoulder.

“Be confident,” he said. “You’re a Novak. You’ve got this.”

I didn’t feel like I “had” anything, but I nodded anyway. “Sure. See you later.”

Mom was already by the door, fussing with my backpack straps. “Call us if you need anything, okay? And don’t forget to take notes!”

“I won’t forget,” I promised, stepping outside before she could adjust my shirt collar.

The evening air was warm, and the sun was just starting to set as I made my way down the sidewalk. It wasn’t a long walk to the community college, but every minute felt like a countdown to doom. By the time I got there, my hands were clammy, and my stomach was doing somersaults.

“This is fine,” I muttered, trying to psych myself up. “It’s just one class. How bad could it be?”

I adjusted my bag and headed for the building, the campus eerily quiet as night began to settle in. It felt like the start of one of the horror movies Logan and I loved to binge-watch. Only this time, I was the one walking into the creepy setting.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered, pushing open the door to the classroom.

The classroom wasn’t huge, but it felt like a cavernous auditorium as I stepped inside. A few students were already scattered across the room, their voices bouncing off the walls as they chatted. Most of them were older than me probably sophomores or juniors in high school. Some looked like they already knew each other, laughing and joking like this was just another hangout.

I slid toward the side of the room, hoping to go unnoticed. No such luck.

“Hey, uh, you lost, little guy?” a guy sitting near the center of the room called out. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with messy blond hair and a smirk that screamed “class clown.” Ryan Collier. Even at first glance, I knew I was going to be seeing and hearing a lot from this guy.

“Nope. I’m in the right place,” I muttered, adjusting the strap on my backpack. “World History at Night, right?”

“Yeah, but, uh, isn’t middle school history like… down the hall?” he teased, earning a few chuckles from the kids around him.

“Funny,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. My face was already heating up, but I forced myself to walk past him. No way was I going to sit near the human megaphone.

Instead, I did exactly what Logan told me not to do: I found a seat in the back corner. It felt safe, even if it screamed “please don’t talk to me.”

The room filled up quickly after that. Conversations grew louder as more students trickled in. A few of them glanced my way, probably wondering who the new kid was. I tried to keep my head down and doodled absentmindedly in my notebook a half-decent sketch of a knight with a broadsword. Classic escapism.

At exactly 7:00 p.m., the door creaked open, and a girl walked in. My pencil froze mid-stroke.

She didn’t look like anyone else in the room. Her long black coat swayed as she moved. She carried herself like she belonged on a movie poster confident but detached, like nothing in this world could surprise her. Her eyes scanned the room briefly before she slid into a seat a few rows ahead of me.

I didn’t even realize I was staring until the professor cleared his throat at the front of the room.

“Good evening, everyone,” the professor said, his voice monotone and his posture stiff. “Welcome to World History at Night. My name is Dr. Hargrave, and over the next six weeks, we’ll be exploring some of the most pivotal moments in human history.”

I tried to focus on the lecture, but my mind kept wandering back to the girl. I’d never seen anyone like her in real life. She was like a character from one of the gothic horror movies I loved mysterious, stylish, and maybe just a little intimidating.

Halfway through Dr. Hargrave’s rambling about ancient civilizations, I thought I caught her glancing back. Just a quick flicker of her gaze in my direction. My heart skipped a beat. Was she looking at me? Or was I imagining it? I tried not to overthink it, but the idea planted itself in my brain and refused to budge.

By the time class was wrapping up, my notebook was a chaotic mess of doodles, half-written notes, and random thoughts. Dr. Hargrave’s droning voice hadn’t helped my focus. I kept stealing glances at the girl, wondering if I should say something. What would Logan do? Probably crack a dumb joke and make her laugh. I, on the other hand, was already psyching myself out.

“Alright, that’s it for tonight,” Dr. Hargrave announced, closing his folder with a loud snap. “Next week, we’ll dive into the early Middle Ages. Don’t forget to grab the syllabus on your way out.”

As students began packing up their things, I decided to go for it. I shoved my notebook into my backpack, took a deep breath, and stood up.

But by the time I looked toward her seat, it was empty.

I blinked, scanning the room. She was nowhere to be seen. It was like she’d vanished into thin air.

“No way…” I muttered under my breath.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed out into the hall, half-expecting to see her just a few steps ahead. But the hallway was empty, save for a janitor pushing a squeaky cart.

Disappointed, I made my way toward the exit. My first night hadn’t exactly gone how I’d imagined. But as I stepped outside into the cool night air, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this girl wasn’t just different. It was… strange.

And I wasn’t going to rest until I figured out what.

The walk home was quiet, the kind of quiet that made your thoughts feel loud. Streetlights buzzed faintly overhead, casting long shadows across the empty sidewalks. My backpack felt heavier than usual, though it was probably just my overthinking. I couldn’t stop replaying the night in my head.

Who was that girl? And how did she just… disappear?

I was halfway down Oakwood Lane when a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey, new guy.”

I jumped and spun around. There she was, leaning casually against a lamppost like she’d been there the whole time.

“How what where did you even come from?” I stammered, trying not to sound like a total idiot.

She smirked, her dark eyes glinting in the dim light. “You walk slow. I caught up.”

Caught up? I hadn’t heard a single footstep. “Oh. Uh, okay.”

“You’re Dylan, right?” she asked, pushing off the lamppost and falling into step beside me.

“Yeah,” I said cautiously. “And you’re….” I stopped, embarrassed. I had no idea what her name was.

“Ivy Nile,” she said, giving me a quick sideways glance. “So, what’s your deal? You’re new, right? I’ve never seen you around before.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m… homeschooled,” I admitted, feeling a little defensive. People always got weird when they found out.

“Interesting,” she said, drawing the word out like it actually was. “That explains why you’re not at Ridgewood.”

“Ridgewood?” I asked.

“High school. Where most of the other kids in the class go.” She tilted her head, studying me like I was some kind of rare artifact. “So, what’s a homeschool kid doing in a night class?”

“Parents,” I said, shrugging. “They thought it’d be a ‘good experience’ or whatever. They’re kind of… intense.”

“How intense?” she asked, her curiosity seeming genuine.

I hesitated. “Let’s just say they have a lot of rules.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

“It’s not, trust me,” I said quickly. “What about you? What brought you to the class?”

She shrugged, her expression suddenly guarded. “I like history. Especially the weird stuff.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure how to respond. “Cool.”

We walked in silence for a moment. The air felt heavier now, like she was holding something back. Before I could figure out what to say next, she stopped abruptly.

“This is me,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward a side street.

I glanced down the street but didn’t see any houses. Just more shadows and the faint outline of an old building. “You live around here?”

“Something like that,” she said with a mysterious smile. “See you next class, Dylan.”

Before I could say anything else, she turned and disappeared into the shadows. One second she was there, and the next, she wasn’t.

I stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. She was definitely weird, but not in a bad way. More like… intriguing.

Shaking my head, I continued my walk home. The Novak house loomed ahead, its familiar silhouette both comforting and stifling. The lights were off, and curtains covered every window, as usual.

I slipped inside quietly, not wanting to wake my parents.

That was when I heard it. A voice speaking from the darkness: “Dylan.”

Mom’s voice carried through the darkened hallway like she’d been standing there all night, waiting. The lights flicked on, and there she was, arms crossed, Dad leaning casually against the doorway with his usual calm smile.

“Uh, hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“We wanted to hear about your first class,” Mom said, her tone far too eager for it to be anything but an interrogation. “You know how important this is for you.”

“Sure, yeah,” I said, dropping my backpack by the stairs. “It was fine. Just… a history class.”

“What kind of history?” Dad asked, his curiosity sounding a little too genuine. He stepped closer, his smile widening just enough to make me feel like I was about to be quizzed.

“Uh, mostly Europe. Middle Ages, early Renaissance stuff. The professor’s into the cultural impacts of monarchies or whatever. Lots of dates and wars.”

Mom and Dad exchanged a look, one of those quick, secretive glances they seemed to have perfected. A grin tugged at the corner of Mom’s mouth. “Ah, the Middle Ages,” she said, almost wistfully. “Such an… interesting time.”

“Fascinating, really,” Dad added, chuckling under his breath like he’d just heard a joke I wasn’t in on. “Did he mention the Thirty Years' War yet? Or the Habsburgs?”

I squinted at him. “It’s the first day, Dad. Pretty sure he’s saving the Habsburgs for the finale.”

“That’s too bad,” Mom said, her smile lingering. “Plenty to talk about there. I’m sure you’ll love it once you get into it.”

“Yeah, riveting,” I muttered, starting toward the stairs. “Anyway, I’m gonna ”

“What about the other students?” Mom interrupted, her tone shifting just enough to keep me in place. “Make any friends?”

“Not really. Everyone seems older. High school kids mostly.”

“Did you talk to anyone?” she pressed

I hesitated, glancing at her. Something in her expression had sharpened, like she was trying to catch something I hadn’t even said yet. “Not really,” I lied. “Just, uh, listened to everyone else talk.”

Mom’s gaze narrowed. “Are you sure? You didn’t… meet anyone?”

“Actually,” I said before thinking it through, “there was one girl. Ivy. She’s, like, my age.”

Their reaction was immediate and synchronized, like a pair of guard dogs catching a scent. Dad’s easy smile tightened into a flat line, and Mom’s brows furrowed just slightly, but enough for me to notice.

“Ivy,” she repeated, her voice carefully neutral. “Did you say she’s your age?”

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was being cross-examined. “She seemed cool. We just talked for a minute.”

“What did she talk about?” Dad asked, stepping closer again.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Normal stuff. Why I’m in the class. My parents’ whole ‘educational experience’ thing. She likes history. That’s it.”

Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Did she say where she’s from?”

“No,” I said, starting to get annoyed. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Dad said quickly, his tone smoothing out. “We’re just… curious. It’s good to know who you’re spending time with.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a night class, Dad. I’m not spending time with anyone.”

Mom’s expression softened, but the worry hadn’t left her eyes. “You can never be too careful, Dylan. Just… don’t lose focus, okay? On the class, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, already turning toward the stairs. “Focused. Got it.”

I didn’t wait for a response, taking the stairs two at a time and shutting my door behind me. Their reaction had been weird, even for them. But the second I sat on my bed, the thought of Ivy crept back in, pushing everything else out of my head.

Who was she, really? And why did it feel like Mom and Dad didn’t want me to find out?

Upstairs, I dropped my bag by the desk and sat down, staring at my laptop. Logan was probably waiting for me online, ready to pelt me with questions about how the class went. How the kids were. If I’d met any girls….and I was definitely not ready to tell him about Ivy.

The truth was, I didn’t even know how I felt about Ivy. Sure, she was really pretty like, ridiculously pretty but she was also strange. The way she’d just appeared out of nowhere, the way she looked at me, like she already knew me.

I shut the laptop instead. I didn’t feel like answering questions, and I definitely didn’t want to hear Logan’s play-by-play of how I should handle this. He’d say something like, “You gotta act cool, but not too cool. Compliment her outfit, but don’t make it weird.”

Shaking my head, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the bed. The curtains cast the room in near-perfect darkness, the faint glow of the streetlights barely visible through the edges.

“Get a grip, Dylan,” I muttered, pulling the blanket over my head.

I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, sleeping can be a real problem for me. I’ll lay awake staring at my ceiling for hours, not feeling the least bit sleepy.

So, I went for a walk.

I was walking down a quiet street, the pavement stretching endlessly in front of me. Oakwood Lane, but somehow… wrong. The houses were gone, replaced by looming shadows that seemed to pulse and twist, their forms just out of focus.

The air felt heavy, like I was moving through syrup. I glanced behind me, and there was nothing. Just the empty sidewalk and the same twisting shadows.

But the further I walked, the louder it got. A faint whispering, like a thousand voices just at the edge of hearing

Then came the footsteps. Soft at first, then louder, closer, keeping pace with mine no matter how fast I moved.

I broke into a run. The sidewalk seemed to stretch endlessly in front of me, twisting and turning like it was alive. No matter how far I ran, the whispers stayed close, the footsteps just behind me.

“Stop,” I whispered, my voice swallowed by the darkness. “Leave me alone!”

The hands came out of nowhere. Cold, claw-like, they gripped my shoulders, spun me around, and clamped around my throat.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. The shadows swallowed me whole, and just as the last sliver of light disappeared

I bolted upright, gasping for air, the blanket tangled around me like a net. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

The room was dark and silent I reached for the lamp on my nightstand, fumbling with the switch.

The light came on, chasing the shadows into the corners. But I could still feel them. The cold grip of those hands. The endless twisting of that sidewalk.

I pressed a hand to my chest to steady my breathing. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, creepy dream.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just my imagination.

Something about it felt too real. Too familiar.

It had been a week since I started the night class, and somehow, I hadn’t managed to say more than a few awkward words to Ivy. Not that I wasn’t trying. I was just... bad at it.

She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. Smart didn’t even begin to cover it. She answered the professor’s questions with this confident ease, rattling off details about history like she’d been there herself. It wasn’t just dates and facts; it was the little things, like how she described what ancient cities might have smelled like, or how people would’ve felt during certain events. The professor practically glowed whenever she raised her hand.

Me? I stayed quiet in the back of the room, pretending I wasn’t sneaking glances her way every few minutes.

Tonight, though, my strategy of blending into the background fell apart when the professor announced group work.

“Pair up! Three or four to a group. Let’s discuss the trade systems of the late medieval period.” He clapped his hands like this was the most exciting thing in the world.

I didn’t move fast enough, and before I knew it, I was in a group with Ryan Collier and two other high school kids whose names I couldn’t remember.

“Alright,” Ryan said, slapping his notebook on the desk like he was ready to solve the mysteries of the universe. “So, trade routes. What do we got?”

I cleared my throat. “Well, the Hanseatic League ”

“Whoa, big word alert!” Ryan interrupted, grinning at the others. “What’s that even mean?”

“The Hanseatic League,” I repeated, trying not to sound annoyed, “was a powerful economic alliance of cities in northern Europe. They dominated trade in the Baltic Sea for ”

“Yeah, yeah, cool story,” Ryan said, cutting me off again. “But like, who cares about a bunch of old guys trading furs or whatever? Let’s just write down some bullet points and call it a day.”

The others snickered, and I bit my tongue.

From across the room, a voice cut through the chatter. “Actually, it’s important.”

I looked up, and there she was. Ivy, standing at her group’s table with one hand resting on the back of her chair. Her gaze was sharp and unflinching.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “What’s important?”

“The Hanseatic League,” she said, like it was obvious. “They weren’t just trading furs. They laid the foundation for modern economics in Europe. Without them, entire industries wouldn’t have existed. Maybe if you paid attention, you’d know that.”

“Ooooh, somebody’s a history buff,” Ryan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, we get it.”

Ivy smirked. “Good. Maybe you should let Dylan talk once in a while. He’s clearly smarter than you.”

The group around Ryan erupted in laughter, and I could feel my face burning.

“Thanks,” I muttered, keeping my eyes on my notebook.

She shrugged, looking entirely unfazed, and turned back to her group. “Some people just don’t appreciate history,” she said loud enough for Ryan to hear.

Ryan rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything else.

The rest of the group work was awkward, to say the least. Ryan mostly ignored me, scribbling random notes that probably didn’t make sense.

When the professor called time, Ivy caught my eye as we packed up our things. She gave me a small smile a smug, knowing sort of smile and it only made me feel more embarrassed.

Ryan elbowed me as we left the room. “Guess you’ve got a little fan club, huh?”

I didn’t answer. My face was still burning too much to think of anything clever to say.

How could I have known that night would be the last time I’d ever see Ryan?

The walk home was eerily quiet, except for the occasional sound of crickets chirping in the bushes. My mind was still buzzing from class, replaying Ryan’s jabs and Ivy’s unexpected defense. She was sharp too sharp for someone her age. The way she talked about history, like she was reciting a memory instead of something from a textbook, gave me chills.

I kicked at a loose rock on the sidewalk, watching it skitter into the darkness ahead. Maybe I should try to talk to her. Properly, I mean. If only I could get through a sentence without sounding like an idiot.

“Don’t let him get to you.”

The voice came out of nowhere, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Ivy was standing on the sidewalk a few paces behind me, her arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Seriously?” I said, clutching my chest. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

“Not always,” she said, brushing past me to lean against a nearby lamppost. The light flickered, casting an uneven glow over her dark outfit. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

“How long have you been following me?” I asked, half-joking, half-terrified.

“Long enough to hear you talking to yourself,” she said, tilting her head. “You do that a lot?”

“Uh, no,” I lied, feeling my face heat up.

She didn’t laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Anyway, about Ryan. Guys like that think they’re so cool. Making fun of other people just to feel important. It’s pathetic.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, kicking at another rock. “He’s not even that smart.”

“Exactly,” Ivy said, her voice hardening. “People like him never are.”

I glanced at her, surprised by the edge in her tone. It was like she had a personal vendetta against anyone like Ryan. “Did… something happen? With someone like him, I mean?”

Ivy shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Let’s just say I’ve dealt with enough idiots to know the type.”

“Fair enough,” I said, deciding not to push it. “Thanks, though. For sticking up for me.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it.”

We walked in silence for a few moments, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the cool night air. Ivy broke the silence first

“So, Dylan,” she said, her voice light but probing. “What’s your deal? Who’s your best friend in town?”

The question caught me off guard. “Uh… I don’t really have one.”

“No best friend?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “What about a girlfriend?”

My face turned crimson. “No! I mean, definitely not.”

She smirked. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying!” I said quickly, cringing at how defensive I sounded. “I’ve just… been homeschooled, okay? Meeting people isn’t exactly easy.”

“Hmm,” Ivy said, giving me a look I couldn’t quite read. “Homeschooled. That explains a lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothing,” she said innocently. “Just that you’re… different.”

“Different how?” I pressed.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stopped walking and turned to face me. “Maybe I could come over tomorrow. We could study or something.”

The offer hit me like a brick. “Uh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. My parents are kind of… strict.”

“How strict?” she asked, folding her arms.

“Like, we-need-to-vet-any-guests kind of strict,” I said, hoping that would end the conversation.

Ivy tilted her head, her dark eyes boring into mine. “Well, maybe next time. For now, just don’t let Ryan or anyone else make you feel small, okay? You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

“Thanks,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

I looked down for half a second, and when I glanced up again, she was gone. No sound of footsteps, no rustling in the bushes just the empty street ahead.

I blinked, my heart racing. “Ivy?”

Nothing.

The streetlight above me flickered again, casting shifting shadows across the sidewalk. I stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

Finally, I shook my head and started walking again. By the time I got home, the house was dark, the curtains drawn tight over every window.

“Just a weird girl,” I muttered to myself as I stepped inside. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure.

The tension in class was different tonight. Something wasn’t right.

I didn’t notice it at first. Everyone seemed normal enough, shuffling into their seats and halfheartedly pulling out notebooks as Dr. Hargrave set up his lecture. But when class started and the attendance sheet made its way to the front, Dr. Hargrave frowned.

“Hmm,” he muttered, tapping the sheet with his pen. “Has anyone seen Ryan Collier?”

A murmur rippled through the room.

“Wasn’t he here last week?” someone asked.

Dr. Hargrave nodded, still looking perplexed. “Yes, and he was scheduled to meet with me after class about his group project.” He looked up, scanning the room. “If anyone hears from him, let him know I’d still like to discuss it. Hopefully, it’s nothing serious.”

The class seemed ready to move on, but my mind snagged on the information. Ryan? Missing? That didn’t make sense. He wasn’t exactly the type to skip out on things, at least not without bragging about it.

I shifted in my seat, glancing toward Ivy. She was in her usual spot, her dark hair framing her face as she jotted something in her notebook. For a second, her eyes flicked up, catching mine.

Was it my imagination, or did something flash across her face when Dr. Hargrave mentioned Ryan? Not concern, exactly. More like… recognition.

I turned back to my own notes, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ryan had been a jerk, sure, but Ivy had seemed genuinely irritated by him. And now, he was just gone?

Back home, I collapsed onto my bed and fired up my laptop. Logan’s message popped up immediately, as if he’d been sitting there waiting for me.

Logan: Yo. How’s night school? Make any friends yet?

Dylan: Funny you should ask.

Logan: Oh? Do tell.

I hesitated, staring at the screen. Part of me didn’t want to bring up Ivy again. Logan would probably just make jokes, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. But I needed to talk to someone.

Dylan: There’s this girl. Ivy. She’s… weird.

Logan: Weird how?

Dylan: Like, she knows EVERYTHING about history. And she’s always disappearing. It’s like she’s in a different world or something.

Logan: Okay, so she’s smart and mysterious. Big deal. What else?

Dylan: I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Like, tonight, Ryan was missing

Logan: Who’s Ryan?

Dylan: Class clown. Total jerk. Ivy didn’t like him, and now he’s gone.

Logan: Gone as in…?

Dylan: Just gone. No one’s heard from him. And she didn’t seem surprised.

Logan sent a string of typing dots, then paused. Finally, he replied:

Logan: Dude. What are you saying? That she’s got something to do with this kid disappearing?

I stared at the message, my hands hovering over the keyboard.

Dylan: I don’t know what I’m saying.

Logan: You need to figure it out. Look her up.

Logan had a point. If I could find out more about Ivy, maybe I could make sense of everything.

I opened a new tab and typed her name into the search bar. Ivy Nile. Nothing came up. Not a single mention.

“Okay, weird,” I muttered.

I tried the usual: social media platforms, school directories, even those school yearbook websites Nothing. It was like she didn’t exist.

“Maybe she uses a screen name,” I said to myself. “Or maybe she’s not online at all.”

The thought unsettled me. Who didn’t have some kind of online presence these days?

“Dylan!”

I nearly jumped out of my chair. My mom was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just… getting ready for bed,” I said quickly, closing my laptop. She raised an eyebrow, her expression carefully neutral. “Good. You should be. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling like I’d dodged something without knowing what it was.

For a second, she lingered, her eyes scanning the room like she was looking for something. Finally, she gave a small nod and turned away.

“Goodnight, Dylan,” she said over her shoulder, her voice carrying a faint edge I couldn’t quite place.

“Night, Mom,” I replied, staring at the closed laptop.

Her tone had been off. Not angry, but… disappointed.

Shaking my head, I climbed into bed, the image of Ivy’s face flashing in my mind as I drifted off.

Weekends in the Novak household were a little different than most people’s. For me, it was a time to unwind binging shows, playing video games, and occasionally listening to Logan ramble about the wild things he was up to.

Logan: Dude, we hit the arcade last night. I crushed everyone at air hockey. Dylan: Cool.

Logan: Seriously, Dylan. You gotta get out more. Come to Kansas. I’ll show you how to live. Dylan: I’m good, thanks.

And I was. My weekends weren’t bad, just quieter. Sometimes Mom and Dad liked taking me to the movies, a family tradition they claimed was about “staying connected.” But it was more like they went to the movies, and I went to my own, then we regrouped afterward for ice cream or pizza. I didn’t mind it. It worked.

I was halfway through a new sci-fi series when my phone rang, the sound cutting through the space battle on my laptop. It wasn’t Logan, for once.

The screen lit up with a number I didn’t recognize. My stomach flipped.

“Hello?” I said, cautiously pressing the phone to my ear.

“Hey, Dylan. It’s Ivy.”

I nearly dropped the phone.

“Ivy?” I repeated dumbly, like I didn’t believe it.

She laughed softly, the sound light and almost teasing. “Yeah, from class? Remember?”

“Uh, yeah. I remember,” I said, sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

“Just thought I’d let you know guess who got shuffled into your group now that Ryan’s gone?”

I blinked. “You’re… in my group?”

“Yup,” she said. “Dr. Hargrave called just a few minutes ago. Looks like it’s you and me now.”

“Cool,” I said, trying to sound casual. “That’s… uh, cool.”

“You sound thrilled,” she said, her voice laced with amusement.

“No, I mean, it’s great. I just wasn’t expecting ” I stopped myself, realizing I was rambling. “So… why’d Ryan drop out?”

“No idea,” Ivy said breezily. “Maybe he couldn’t handle the pressure of learning about medieval trade systems.”

That made me chuckle, despite myself. “Yeah, probably.”

There was a brief pause, and then Ivy said, “So, what are you up to tomorrow?”

My heart skipped. “Uh… nothing, really.”

“Want to meet up? We could work on the project,” she offered.

I hesitated. “I don’t think I can. My parents are pretty strict about weekends.”

“Strict how?” she asked, curiosity in her tone.

I scrambled for an explanation that didn’t make me sound like a total loser. “They just like us to spend time together, you know? Family stuff.”

“Right,” Ivy said, and I could almost picture her raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe next time.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, suddenly wishing I had a better excuse or better parents.

“Well, I’ll see you in class,” she said. “Don’t forget to bring your notes. You do take notes, right?”

“Of course,” I said quickly.

“Good,” she said with a laugh. “Bye, Dylan.”

“Bye,” I said, the word coming out quieter than I intended.

I stared at the phone long after she’d hung up, replaying the conversation in my head. Ivy had called me. Me. And even if it was just about the project, it was still… something.

Later that evening, Mom and Dad announced our plans for the night: the movies. I wasn’t surprised. It was their favorite way to get out of the house. Movie nights were a longstanding Novak tradition.

We piled into the car, the atmosphere feeling lighter than usual at least until Mom turned to me.

“Who were you talking to earlier?” she asked casually, but her tone was anything but.

“What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb.

“On the phone,” Dad chimed in from the driver’s seat. “We heard you talking to someone.”

“Oh,” I said, my face heating up. “Just a classmate. Ivy.”

They exchanged a glance, one of those silent conversations they were so good at having.

“Ivy,” Mom repeated. “She called you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “She’s in my group now for the class project.”

“And what did she want?” Mom asked, her tone still light but sharper at the edges.

“She just wanted to talk about the project,” I said, trying to sound casual.

Mom didn’t respond, but I caught the way her fingers drummed lightly against her knee.

“Did she ask about us?” Dad asked, his eyes still on the road but his voice low.

“No,” I said, frowning. “Why would she?”

“Just curious,” he said, his tone breezy again. “You should focus on the project, Dylan. Don’t get distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” I muttered, sinking back into my seat.

The rest of the drive was quiet, but the air in the car felt heavier than before. I couldn’t help but wonder why Ivy calling me had bothered them so much.

By the time we got to the theater, they were back to their usual selves Mom fussing over popcorn sizes, Dad teasing her about smuggling candy in her purse. But their reaction stuck with me.

Ivy had called me. My parents were worried about her. And I didn’t understand why.

The theater lobby was packed, the buzz of weekend chatter echoing off the walls. I followed Mom and Dad toward the ticket counter, trying to shake the weird vibe from earlier. They seemed normal enough now, bickering about whether to get extra butter on the popcorn, but I still couldn’t stop replaying their reaction to Ivy’s call.

“Alright, Dylan,” Dad said, handing me a twenty. “You know the drill. We’ll meet you here after the movie. Don’t get into trouble.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a theater, not a nightclub.”

Mom frowned, giving me her usual once-over. “You’ve got your phone, right? Call if you need anything.”

“Got it,” I said, already heading toward my theater.

The movie I picked was a sci-fi flick called Intergalactic Agitation, heavy on the action and special effects. Just the kind of mindless fun I needed. I was halfway to the theater doors when a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Well, well. Look who it is.”

I turned, and there she was. Ivy, leaning casually against the wall near the concession stand, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

“Ivy?” I said, blinking like I’d just seen a ghost. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you couldn’t hang out this weekend. Something about family rules?”

Heat crept up my neck. “It’s not really the same thing. My parents like going to the movies, and we do this… thing where we all pick our own movies and ”

“Relax, Dylan,” she said, cutting me off with a laugh. “I’m just messing with you.”

I tried to smile, but my nerves had other ideas. “So, uh, what are you here to see?”

She shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet. What about you?”

“Oh, um, the new sci-fi one,” I said, motioning toward my theater. “It’s supposed to be pretty good.”

“Hmm,” Ivy said, tapping her chin. “Sounds better than wandering around here. Mind if I join you?”

“Join me?” I repeated dumbly.

She tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Yeah, Dylan. Join you. Is that a problem?”

“No! Not at all,” I said quickly, stepping aside to let her follow me.

We found seats near the middle of the theater, the previews already playing. I fumbled with my popcorn, trying to act like it wasn’t a huge deal that a girl a really pretty, really cool girl was sitting next to me.

“Nice pick,” Ivy said, settling into her seat.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, stuffing popcorn into my mouth to avoid saying something stupid.

A few minutes into the movie, I reached for more popcorn, and so did Ivy. Our hands brushed lightly, and I froze.

Oh my god. Did she just try to hold my hand?

My heart was pounding like I’d just run a marathon. I glanced at her, but she didn’t seem fazed. She just kept watching the screen, her fingers brushing the edge of the popcorn bag again.

That’s when I noticed it. Her hand wasn’t just cold it was freezing. Like she’d been holding an ice pack.

I pulled my hand back, trying not to make it obvious. Was that normal? Maybe she just had bad circulation or something. Or maybe

No. I wasn’t going there. Not yet.

After the movie ended, we filed out of the theater together. Ivy was quiet at first, and I couldn’t tell if she liked the movie or not.

“So, what’d you think?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“It was good,” she said with a small smile. “Better than I expected from a movie with such a stupid name.”

“Yeah,” I said, relieved. “The effects were awesome.”

We walked out into the cool night air, still talking about the movie. I glanced toward the far end of the parking lot and spotted Mom and Dad near their car, standing under a flickering streetlight.

“Hey, that’s my parents over there,” I said, motioning toward them. “Do you want to meet ”

I stopped mid-sentence. Ivy was gone.

I spun around, scanning the parking lot, but there was no sign of her. Just empty spaces and the faint hum of crickets.

“She didn’t even say goodbye,” I muttered to myself, my heart racing for reasons I couldn’t explain.

By the time I reached the car, Mom and Dad were already climbing in.

“Have fun?” Dad asked, his tone as casual as ever.

“Yeah,” I said, sliding into the backseat.

Mom glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Did you see anyone you know?”

I hesitated. “No. Just watched the movie.”

Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t say anything else.

As the car pulled out of the parking lot, I stared out the window, my mind replaying the last few minutes. Ivy had been there, right next to me. And then she wasn’t.

It didn’t make any sense.

But one thing was becoming clear: Ivy was more than just mysterious. She was impossible.

The headline hit me like a punch to the gut:

LOCAL TEEN MISSING

Ryan Collier, a student at Ridgewood High, was last seen attending a night class at the Ridgewood Community College. Authorities are asking anyone with information to come forward.

I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting. Ryan was officially missing. I thought about how he’d been in class, making jokes at my expense, and now… he was gone.

“Dylan!” Mom’s voice carried up the stairs, sharp and probing.

I closed the laptop quickly, not wanting her to see what I was reading. “Yeah?”

She appeared in the doorway a moment later, her expression tight. “Have you seen the news about that boy? Ryan?”

“I just saw the headline,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“Do you know anything about him?” she asked, stepping closer.

“No,” I said truthfully. “He was in my class, but I barely talked to him.”

Mom studied me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you sure? You didn’t notice anything unusual?”

“No,” I said again, shifting uncomfortably.

Dad appeared behind her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “It’s fine, Lenore,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “The police will figure it out.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and stepped back. “If you remember anything,” she said, her voice softer now, “you’ll tell us, right?”

“Of course,” I said.

Mom lingered for a second longer before turning and leaving the room.

Dad paused in the doorway, giving me a look that was harder to read. “Stay focused, Dylan,” he said quietly. “And stay careful.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

As soon as they were gone, I opened my laptop again and logged into my chat with Logan.

Dylan: Ryan’s officially missing.

Logan: Wait, what? Missing as in…?

Dylan: Like, disappeared. Never came home after class last week.

Logan: And let me guess, you think Ivy’s involved. The girl you just shared popcorn with.

I hesitated before typing:

Dylan: She hated him. She stood up to him in class For me! And then he disappeared after class that night.

Logan: Oh. Oh wow. You’re actually saying that you think she’s a vampire

Dylan: I’m saying it’s weird. Her hand was freezing when she reached for the popcorn.

Logan: Okay, cold hands. Disappearing act. Missing classmates. Sure. Totally a vampire. Or, you know, she’s just… a girl.

I rolled my eyes, but Logan kept going:

Logan: She doesn’t have social media. Big deal. You said it yourself she could be using a screen name, or maybe she’s just not into it.

Dylan: But how do I know?

Logan: Easy. Find out where she goes to school. You said she’s from Ridgewood High, right?

I froze.

Dylan: Yeah. She said that.

Logan: Then look her up! It shouldn’t be too difficult. And it’ll make you feel better. Vampires don’t go to school, after all.

Dylan: Funny.

But Logan had a point. Ivy had said she went to Ridgewood High. If I could find her in their records or better yet, someone who knew her it might clear things up.

I sat back in my chair, staring at the screen. The idea of digging into Ivy felt weird, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in my chest. If she wasn’t hiding anything, then why did she keep vanishing? And why did Ryan disappear right after she stood up for me?

This was the only way to know for sure.

The classroom was positively depressing. The usual chatter was gone, replaced by uneasy glances and hushed whispers. Dr. Hargrave stood at the front, his normally stiff posture sagging under the weight of some unseen burden.

As the clock hit 7:00, he cleared his throat. “Before we begin tonight’s lecture, I have some unfortunate news.”

The room stilled.

“As many of you may know, Ryan Collier is still missing,” he said, his voice heavy. “Since his last known whereabouts were here, in this class, the authorities are conducting an investigation. They’ve asked to speak with each of you individually.”

The murmurs started immediately, students turning to one another with wide eyes and nervous whispers.

Dr. Hargrave held up a hand. “I understand this is unsettling, but the process will be straightforward. One by one, you’ll step outside to answer some questions. While this is happening, the rest of us will continue with tonight’s material. I’d appreciate it if we could remain focused.”

Focused? With the police right outside the door? Yeah, right.

Ivy’s absence was the first thing I noticed as I scanned the room. Her usual seat sat empty, the chair slightly askew as if someone had moved it earlier.

No Ivy. Of course.

I glanced at my groupmates, Amanda and Jared, trying to gauge their reactions. Amanda looked annoyed, her fingers drumming lightly on her notebook. Jared, as usual, seemed more bored than anything.

“Guess Ivy’s not showing up tonight,” Amanda muttered, breaking the silence.

“She was supposed to take Ryan’s spot in our group, right?” I asked, feigning casual curiosity.

“Yeah,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. “It’s kind of annoying. We were supposed to figure out how to divvy up the work, and now she’s MIA.”

Jared nodded. “No way to catch her up, either. None of us have her number.”

I hesitated. “You don’t? But… you go to Ridgewood, right?”

“Yeah,” Amanda said slowly, giving me a curious look.

“Well, she told me she goes to Ridgewood too,” I said, trying to sound offhanded.

Amanda frowned. “She does? I’ve never seen her.”

“Same,” Jared added, shaking his head. “And I’d know. Ridgewood’s not exactly huge. Freshmen stick out.”

“She’s a freshman,” I said quickly. “Maybe you just didn’t notice her.”

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Not likely. All the freshmen are in the same wing for core classes. If she was at Ridgewood, we’d know.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Maybe she’s new or something,” I offered weakly.

“Maybe,” Amanda said, though she didn’t sound convinced.

The conversation fizzled as Dr. Hargrave called for everyone’s attention, but my thoughts were spinning. If Amanda and Jared didn’t know Ivy, did that mean she was lying about Ridgewood?

And if she was lying about that… what else wasn’t she telling me?

The first few students were called out to speak with the officers. Each time the door opened, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to happen.

When my name was called, my heart sank.

I stepped into the hallway, where two officers stood by a table. One was tall and thin with a sharp gaze, the other stockier with an air of calm authority.

“Dylan Novak, right?” the tall one asked, gesturing for me to sit.

“Yeah,” I said, sliding into the chair.

“This won’t take long,” the stocky officer said. “We’re just trying to establish a timeline for the last night Ryan was here. Can you tell us what you remember?”

I nodded, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “He was in class like normal. Nothing seemed off.”

The tall officer narrowed his eyes slightly. “You were in the same group, correct?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, feeling my palms start to sweat. “But he wasn’t really… serious about it. He was just kind of goofing off.”

“Goofing off how?” the stocky officer asked.

“He made jokes. Didn’t really take the work seriously,” I said, my voice tightening.

“And how did that make you feel?”

I blinked. “I mean… it was annoying, I guess. But it wasn’t a big deal.”

The tall officer leaned forward slightly. “We’ve heard from other students that Ryan was picking on you that night. Is that true?”

The question hit me like a punch. “Uh… kind of, I guess. He was just… joking around.”

“Did he threaten you?” the stocky officer asked.

“No! Nothing like that,” I said quickly. “It wasn’t serious. Just dumb stuff.”

The officers exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable.

“Alright,” the tall one said, straightening. “Thank you, Dylan. We may need to follow up with you later.”

My stomach sank. “Follow up?”

“Just standard procedure,” the stocky officer said, his tone neutral.

I nodded, forcing myself to keep calm as I left the hallway and re-entered the classroom. My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d been watching me too closely, analyzing every word.

That night, I couldn’t focus on anything. The questions from the officers kept looping in my head. Why had they mentioned Ryan picking on me? Did they really think I had something to do with his disappearance?

By the time my parents had gone to bed, I was still staring at my laptop, unable to concentrate on the show I’d started. The room was dark, the only light coming from the screen.

And then my phone rang.

The screen lit up with a number I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t need to. I already knew who it was.

“Hello?” I said, my voice shaky.

“Hey, Dylan,” Ivy’s voice purred through the speaker.

My blood ran cold.

“Ivy?” I said, my voice cracking slightly.

“Relax,” she said with a soft laugh. “You sound like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just ” I stammered, sitting up straighter on my bed. “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

“Well, I couldn’t make it to class tonight,” she said, her tone breezy. “I was hoping you’d have some notes from our group. The project’s coming up, you know.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Notes. Sure,” I said, scrambling to sound normal.

There was a brief pause before she added, “It’s in two weeks, Dylan. We’ve only got one more class before it’s due. If we don’t get our act together, we’re going to look like idiots.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Right. Totally. What, uh, what exactly are we doing for this project again?”

Ivy sighed, the kind of sigh that made me feel like I’d just failed a pop quiz. “It’s a presentation, remember? On medieval trade systems. We’re supposed to cover how the Hanseatic League shaped commerce in northern Europe and tie it into the broader economic trends of the time.”

“Right,” I said quickly. “Of course. I knew that.”

“Sure you did,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Anyway, what did I miss tonight? Anything interesting?”

I hesitated. “Well, uh, the police were there.”

“The police?” Ivy repeated, her tone shifting slightly.

“Yeah. They wanted to talk to everyone about Ryan,” I said. “You know, since he’s… missing.”

“Oh, right,” Ivy said, her voice strangely casual. “That’s too bad. Hope they figure it out.”

I frowned. “That’s it? He’s been gone for a week.”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked lightly. “I barely knew the guy. Besides, isn’t this what the cops are for? Let them handle it.”

Before I could respond, she changed the subject.

“Speaking of which,” she said, her tone brightening, “when are we going to work on this project? I told you: the deadline is coming up.”

“I don’t know,” I said, slipping into my usual excuses. “My parents are really strict about weekends. It’s hard to find time ”

“Dylan,” she said, cutting me off. “Come on. You’re not seriously going to make me do this on my own, are you?”

“No, of course not,” I said quickly. “It’s just… complicated.”

“How complicated?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Then I remembered something Mom had said earlier that day how she and Dad were going to a cooking class tomorrow night.

“Well,” I said slowly, “my parents are going to be out tomorrow night. They signed up for this cooking class or something. Maybe you could… come over?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a second, I thought I’d made a mistake.

“Are you sure?” Ivy asked, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound confident. “It’s probably the only chance we’ll get to work on this without distractions.”

Another pause, then: “Alright, Dylan. Tomorrow night it is.”

“Cool,” I said, my heart pounding.

“Cool,” she echoed. “See you then.”

She hung up before I could say anything else, leaving me staring at my phone like it had just transformed into something dangerous.

What had I just agreed to?

The doorbell rang just as I was finishing up clearing off the dining table, trying to make the house look a little less... Novak-y. Not that I could do much about the weird art or the strange antique decor that filled every room.

I opened the door, and there she was. Ivy. Dressed in her usual black, with her dark eyes practically glittering in the porch light. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and an air of casual confidence that made me feel like I was hosting some kind of celebrity.

“Nice place,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her gaze immediately darted around, taking in the heavy furniture, the ornate mirrors, and the faintly creepy paintings on the walls.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, shutting the door behind her. “My parents are… into antiques.”

“I can see that,” she said, running her fingers lightly along the back of an intricately carved wooden chair. “This stuff is incredible. Looks like it came straight out of a museum.”

“Yeah, they’ve got a thing for old European pieces,” I said.

Ivy glanced at me, smirking. “Old European, huh? That explains a lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said, wandering into the living room. She stopped in front of an ancient-looking globe that sat on a pedestal, spinning it gently. “This thing’s probably older than the United States. Your parents must have some stories.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, watching her closely.

“You don’t seem impressed,” she said, tilting her head at me.

“I’m used to it,” I said. “It’s just furniture and stuff.”

Ivy shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “This isn’t just ‘stuff,’ Dylan. Do you know how many people would kill to have something like this?” She tapped the globe with her finger, letting it spin to a stop. “You’re sitting on centuries of history here.”

Something about the way she said it made my skin crawl, like she wasn’t just admiring it she remembered it.

“Want a soda?” I asked, desperate to steer the conversation somewhere normal.

Ivy wrinkled her nose. “God, no. I don’t drink that stuff, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Why not?”

“It’s full of chemicals. It’s basically poison,” she said, pulling a clear sports bottle from her backpack. “I brought my own.”

The liquid inside was dark red, thick and viscous.

“Tomato juice,” she said, catching my stare.

“In a sports bottle?” I asked, making a face.

She shrugged. “It’s easier to carry around. You should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, hard pass,” I said, watching as she unscrewed the cap and took a long sip.

The sight of it made my stomach turn. It didn’t look like tomato juice not really. It was too thick, too dark, almost like…

I shook the thought away. No. That was ridiculous.

We sat at the table, our books spread out in front of us, but Ivy didn’t seem interested in the project at all.

“So,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “What’s upstairs?”

“Uh, bedrooms?” I said, confused.

“No, I mean upstairs,” she said, nodding toward the ceiling. “Like, the attic. You’ve got to have one, right? A house like this?”

I hesitated. “Yeah, we have an attic, but there’s nothing up there.”

“Come on,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Look at all this cool stuff your parents have. I bet your attic is full of old trunks and creepy portraits and who knows what else.”

“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I’ve never really been up there.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Never? Aren’t you curious?”

“Not really,” I lied.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re missing out.”

The conversation turned quiet, the air between us thick with something I couldn’t quite name. Ivy’s gaze lingered on me a second too long, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was testing me, waiting for something.

Finally, I cleared my throat. “So, uh, about Ryan…”

“What about him?” Ivy asked, her tone neutral.

I hesitated. “Don’t you think it’s weird? That he just… disappeared?”

Ivy shrugged, taking another sip from her bottle. “People disappear all the time, Dylan. It’s not that weird.”

Her voice was calm, too calm, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“You don’t seem too bothered by it,” I said.

“Should I be?” she asked, tilting her head. “He wasn’t exactly a saint. Besides, the police are looking into it, right? They’ll figure it out.”

The way she said it, so calm and certain, sent a chill through me. It was like she already knew something no one else did.

I forced a nervous laugh, trying to shift the mood. “We should probably get back to the project. Our groupmates are going to flip if we don’t have something solid by next week.”

Ivy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sure. Let’s talk about medieval trade routes. Thrilling stuff.”

“Well, we’re supposed to focus on the Hanseatic League,” I said, flipping open my notebook. “They dominated trade in northern Eu-,” I paused. “I thought you were into this stuff. What gives?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Furs, salt, timber. I get it. But doesn’t it feel… dry?”

“It’s history,” I said. “It is dry.”

Ivy smirked. “Not if you know where to look. Your parents, for example they seem like the type to have artifacts from that era lying around. Do they?”

I hesitated. “I mean, they’ve got a lot of antiques. But I don’t know if anything’s that old.”

“Hmm,” she said, her eyes flicking toward the ceiling. “What about the attic? I bet there’s some cool stuff up there.”

I frowned. “Why are you so obsessed with the attic?”

“Because,” Ivy said, her voice light but teasing, “houses like this always have secrets. You can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what’s up there.”

I shrugged. “Not really. My parents don’t like me going up there.”

“Of course they don’t,” she said with a knowing smile. “That’s the point.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she beat me to it. “Speaking of your parents, what kind of cooking class are they taking at night?”

I paused, caught off guard by the question. “Yeah, it’s a night thing. They’re... really into gourmet cooking, I guess.”

“Gourmet cooking,” Ivy repeated, her tone thoughtful. “Interesting.”

We didn’t get much further into our discussion before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway shattered the moment. My heart skipped a beat. Mom and Dad weren’t supposed to be back for another hour.

“They’re home,” I said, standing up so quickly my chair scraped against the floor.

“Relax,” Ivy said, completely unfazed. “It’s not like I’m breaking and entering.”

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice low and urgent. “They’re... not big on me having people over.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, the front door opened, and my mom’s voice called out. “Dylan? We’re home!”

I darted into the hallway, heart pounding. Mom and Dad were standing in the foyer, their coats slung over their arms and faint traces of flour dusting their sleeves.

“How was the class?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Fine,” Mom said, looking me over with that sharp, assessing gaze she always had. “What are you up to?”

“Uh, just working on a school project,” I said.

Dad’s eyes narrowed slightly. “School project? With who?”

“With, um…” I turned to gesture toward the dining room, but when I looked back, Ivy was gone.

I blinked, my mouth hanging open.

“Dylan?” Mom prompted, her tone suddenly sharper.

“Uh, Ivy,” I said, forcing myself to recover. “Dr. Hargrave moved her to my group to replace Ryan.”

“And where is she now?” Dad asked, his voice low.

“I I don’t know,” I stammered. “She was just here.”

Mom and Dad exchanged a look, one of those silent conversations they were so good at having.

“You had someone over without asking?” Mom said, her voice tight.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” I said quickly. “We were just working on the project.”

“It’s a big deal,” Dad said, his voice cold. “You know the rules, Dylan.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling my face heat up.

Mom’s gaze swept over the room, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Next time, ask. Understood?”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Good,” she said, turning toward the kitchen.

Dad lingered for a moment longer, his eyes flicking to the dining room before finally following her.

I stood there for a long time, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Ivy had been right there. There was no way she could’ve left without them seeing her.

So where had she gone?

I sat at my desk, laptop open, the faint glow of the screen the only light in the room. Logan’s chat window blinked with new messages as he waited for me to finish explaining what had happened.

Dylan: She just disappeared. Like, one second she’s in the dining room, and the next… gone. Logan: Okay. I admit it: that’s next-level creepy. Did you hear the door open? A window? Anything?

Dylan: Nothing. It’s like she evaporated.

Logan: Evaporated like poof? Or evaporated like “ninja skills”?

Dylan: I don’t know. I looked away for half a second, and when I turned back, she wasn’t there.

Logan sent a string of typing dots, then paused before finally replying:

Logan: Okay. Ninja skills are one thing, but what’s up with the tomato juice?

Dylan: Right? Who drinks tomato juice out of a sports bottle?

Logan: Exactly. Tomato juice is gross normally, but putting it in a bottle is… something else. You’re sure it was tomato juice?

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keys.

Dylan: That’s what she said it was.

Logan sent another typing bubble, then stopped again. I could almost hear his voice in my head, teasing but concerned.

Logan: Alright, Dylan. Real talk. Disappearing acts, cold hands, mysterious tomato juice… maybe this girl actually is a vampire.

Dylan: I’m starting to wonder.

Logan’s next reply came almost immediately.

Logan: You need to figure this out before she disappears you.

I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing. Logan was joking kind of but there was something about Ivy that didn’t add up.

A knock on the door startled me, and I quickly shut the laptop. “Yeah?”

The door opened, and Mom stepped in, followed closely by Dad. They both looked serious, the kind of serious that made my stomach drop.

“Still up?” Mom asked, crossing her arms.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Just… finishing some homework.”

“You were talking to someone,” Dad said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I hesitated. “Logan. Just a friend.”

Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “We need to talk about Ivy.”

I swallowed hard. “What about her?”

Mom and Dad exchanged one of their trademark silent looks before Mom spoke again. “What do you know about her, Dylan? Really know?”

“Not much,” I admitted. “She’s in my group for the project. She likes history. That’s about it.”

“And her family?” Dad pressed. “Where is she from? What do her parents do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling a flicker of frustration. “She’s not exactly an open book.”

Mom’s eyes darkened. “You’re spending time with someone, and you don’t even know her last name?”

“I do,” I said quickly. “It’s Nile. Ivy Nile.”

The room went silent.

Mom and Dad exchanged another look, but this one was different sharper, heavier.

“Nile,” Mom repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dad’s expression hardened. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice rising. “What’s wrong with her name?”

“Nothing,” Mom said quickly, her tone clipped. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Dad’s gaze lingered on me, his eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. “Dylan, you need to be careful with people like her. Do you understand?”

I nodded slowly, even though I didn’t understand at all.

“Good,” Mom said, straightening. “Now get some sleep. It’s late.”

They left without another word, the door clicking shut behind them.

I sat there in the silence, my heart pounding.

Ivy Nile.

What was it about that name that made them act so… strange?

A week had gone by, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Ivy since the night she came over.

I’d spent that time doing what I do best: digging. But no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find a single trace of her.

If Ivy Nile went to Ridgewood High, she’d done an incredible job of staying invisible. She wasn’t in any yearbooks, wasn’t listed in any sports teams or clubs, and her name didn’t show up in any student council rosters. I even checked the yearbooks from East Hollow High in the next town over still nothing.

It was like she didn’t exist.

And it wasn’t just Ivy. Ryan Collier was still missing, too. The local news had stopped running daily updates, but the police investigation was still ongoing. His friends were all over social media posting tributes and pleas for information.

Meanwhile, Ivy was nowhere to be found. A ghost. Or maybe… a vampire.

When I got the email saying that night class was canceled, I couldn’t sit still.

Dear Students,

Due to unforeseen circumstances, tonight’s class has been canceled. Please check your email for updates on next week’s schedule.

That was it. No explanation. No reason. Just… canceled.

My parents weren’t thrilled about it either.

“Canceled?” Mom asked, frowning as she read the email over my shoulder. “That’s odd. Doesn’t your instructor usually keep a tight schedule?”

“Yeah,” I said, shutting my laptop. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe something came up,” Dad said from across the kitchen, but his tone was distant, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

The whole thing set my brain buzzing. Why cancel with no notice? Was it connected to Ryan? Or to Ivy?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

That evening, as I sat in my room trying to focus on a show, my phone rang.

I didn’t even need to look at the screen. I already knew who it was.

“Ivy,” I said, answering the call.

“Can you believe it?” she said, skipping right over a greeting. “Canceling class at the last minute? Who does that?”

Her voice was sharp, almost angry, and it caught me off guard. “Yeah, it’s weird,” I said. “I got the email earlier.”

“It’s not just weird,” Ivy said. “It’s unprofessional. We have a project due in a week, and we’re running out of time.”

“Right,” I said carefully. “I mean, we can figure something out.”

“We should meet,” she said quickly. “Tonight.”

My stomach sank. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked, her tone almost challenging.

“I just… I’m not sure my parents would ”

She let out a frustrated sigh and hung up before I could finish the sentence.

I stared at my phone, my heart pounding.

The room was pitch black except for the faint glow of my laptop, its screen dimmed to near darkness as a paused video hovered on the screen. I must’ve fallen asleep watching something, but now the silence was deafening.

A soft tap-tap-tap jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open, and for a second, I thought I was dreaming.

The sound came again deliberate, sharp. Tap-tap-tap.

I turned toward the window.

And froze.

There she was. Ivy. Floating just outside, her dark hair whipping in the wind that didn’t seem to touch anything else. Her face was pale, her lips curved into a sharp smile.

And her fangs fangs gleamed faintly in the moonlight.

“Dylan,” she called softly, her voice almost musical.

My heart pounded, my breath catching in my throat. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

“You’re not dreaming,” she said, as if reading my mind. “I’m really here.”

I sat up, clutching the edge of my blanket like it was a shield. “How how are you ”

“Shh,” she said, pressing a finger to her lips. “Don’t be scared.”

The window creaked, the glass sliding open as if by some unseen force. Ivy drifted inside, her movements fluid and unnatural. She hovered just above the floor, her feet never touching down.

“I knew you’d figure it out eventually,” she said, her voice soft but teasing. “That I’m not like the others.”

“You’re ” I started, but she cut me off.

“A vampire,” she finished, smiling wide enough to reveal her fangs again. “You’ve been thinking it this whole time, haven’t you?”

I couldn’t answer. My brain was screaming, trying to catch up to what was happening.

“You’re special, Dylan,” she said, stepping closer. Her feet finally touched the ground, but her presence still felt impossibly large. “That’s why I like you. Why I want you to be with me.”

“What?” I managed to choke out.

She tilted her head, her expression almost affectionate. “You like me too, don’t you?”

“I I ”

“Of course you do,” she said, her smile widening. “And I like you. That’s why I’m going to make you like me.”

I tried to step back, but my legs wouldn’t move. It was like they were stuck, glued to the floor by her gaze.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she said, leaning closer. “You’ll see.”

Her cold hand brushed against my cheek, and I flinched.

“Don’t fight it,” she whispered. “This is what you were meant for. To be like me.”

She leaned in closer, her fangs glinting as she tilted her head toward my neck. I tried to scream, to move, but I couldn’t. Her breath was cold, her lips brushing against my skin

My eyes flew open, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. My room was dark and still, the only sound my own ragged breathing.

The window was closed, the curtains drawn.

It was just a dream.

But as I sat there, clutching my blanket, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than that.

Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of the wind rattled against the house.

And for just a second, I could’ve sworn I heard Ivy’s voice.

The announcement came via email, just like the last time.

Dear Students,

Due to unforeseen circumstances, the World History at Night class has been permanently canceled. Refunds will be issued to all enrolled students. Thank you for your understanding.

I stared at the screen, reading it over and over, waiting for it to change. But it didn’t.

The class was gone. Permanently.

I sat back in my chair, stunned.

“You seem upset,” Mom said from the doorway.

I hadn’t even heard her come in. “The night class,” I said, glancing at her. “It’s canceled. For good.”

She stepped into the room, her expression unreadable. “I see.”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?” I asked.

She shrugged lightly. “Not really. Classes get canceled all the time.”

“But why?” I pressed. “They didn’t even give a reason.”

“It’s probably not worth worrying about,” she said calmly.

Dad appeared behind her, his hands in his pockets. “She’s right, Dylan. There’s no point in getting worked up over it. If anything, it frees up your schedule.”

Their casual indifference made my stomach turn.

“But I liked that class,” I said, more to myself than to them.

“Did you?” Mom asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice quiet.

Mom gave me a soft smile, the kind that felt more like a pat on the head than genuine understanding. “Well, sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to.”

Dad’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than it should have. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he said cryptically before walking off.

Mom followed, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Later that afternoon, I found out why the class had been canceled.

I was scrolling through the local news when the headline popped up:

COLLEGE PROFESSOR MISSING

Dr. Lawrence Hargrave, a history professor at Ridgewood Community College, was last seen on campus two nights ago. Authorities are asking anyone with information to contact the Ridgewood Police Department.

I clicked the article, my heart sinking.

Dr. Hargrave was missing. Just like Ryan.

The details were vague no signs of a struggle, no witnesses. He had simply vanished.

I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing. Ivy had been furious the night he canceled class, practically spitting when she talked about it. And now he was gone.

A chill ran down my spine. What if…

No. That was ridiculous.

But the image popped into my head anyway: Dr. Hargrave’s blood swirling in one of Ivy’s “tomato juice” bottles.

I shuddered and closed the laptop.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. My parents went about their usual routine, acting like nothing was wrong, while I sat quietly, stewing over everything that had happened.

I hadn’t seen Ivy since the night she came over, and she hadn’t called since she hung up on me.

For the first time, I realized I might never see her again.

The thought was heavier than I expected. She was weird and secretive and probably dangerous, but she was also fascinating. Being around her made my boring, predictable life feel exciting, like anything could happen.

And now she was gone, just like the class. Just like Ryan. Just like Dr. Hargrave.

I couldn’t let it end like this.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my recent calls. Her number was still there, sitting at the top of the list.

I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over the screen.

Then I tapped it.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

And then

“Dylan,” Ivy said, her voice smooth and familiar.

I swallowed hard. “Hey, Ivy. We need to talk.”

The park was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every sound seem louder. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool evening breeze was the only thing keeping me company as I waited. I sat on a bench near the edge of the small playground, my leg bouncing anxiously.

Ivy had said 10:00. It was 10:03.

Just as I started wondering if she was going to show, I heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.

Ivy appeared out of the shadows, her dark hair catching the faint glow of the nearby streetlight. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, nothing fancy, but somehow she still managed to look effortlessly cool.

“Hey, Dylan,” she said, her voice light and slightly teasing as she walked up. “You’re not usually this bold. Meeting in a park late at night? I’m impressed.”

I stood, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Thanks for coming.”

She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she stopped in front of me. “Of course. You sounded… intense on the phone. What’s up?”

I hesitated, suddenly unsure how to start. “Uh, let’s sit,” I said, motioning to the bench.

She raised an eyebrow but sat down gracefully, leaning back and crossing her legs like she owned the place. “Okay, Dylan. Spill.”

I sat beside her, my leg bouncing again as I tried to figure out where to begin.

“So,” I started, glancing at her. “You’ve been kind of hard to find lately.”

She grinned. “Missed me, huh?”

I ignored the flutter in my chest and pressed on. “I just mean… I’ve been looking into some things. About you.”

That wiped the grin off her face. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” I said, turning to face her. “Like, for starters, you’re not on social media. At all. And I know you said you go to Ridgewood High, but you’re not in any yearbooks or club photos or anything.”

Her expression didn’t falter, but her posture shifted slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like getting my picture taken.”

“Or maybe you don’t actually go to Ridgewood,” I said.

She laughed softly, but there was an edge to it. “Wow, Dylan. Stalker much?”

I ignored the jab and kept going. “And what about Dr. Hargrave? Or Ryan?”

Her smile faded. “What about them?”

“Ryan disappears after he annoys you, and then Dr. Hargrave cancels class at the last minute You were really upset by that, and now he’s missing too,” I said, my voice rising. “And you’re just… fine with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” she said, her tone cool. “But if you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

I took a deep breath. “You’re a vampire.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Ivy threw her head back and laughed.

“Seriously?” she said, wiping a nonexistent tear from her eye. “You think I’m a vampire?”

“I mean, it fits!” I said defensively. “The disappearing act, the cold hands, the tomato juice in a sports bottle who even does that?”

She smirked, leaning in slightly. “And what if I was, Dylan? Would you be scared?”

I swallowed hard, her gaze making my throat tighten. “No,” I lied.

She leaned back, shaking her head. “You’re something else.”

“Ivy,” I said, my voice quieter now. “What happened to Ryan?”

Her smile faltered, and for the first time, her expression was unreadable. “Maybe we should talk about that,” she said softly.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my stomach twisting.

Her dark eyes locked onto mine. “I mean, you know what happened to Ryan.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“What?” I stammered.

She tilted her head, her gaze steady and unnervingly calm. “You know, Dylan. You were there.”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I didn’t ”

“Didn’t you?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” I repeated, my voice trembling. “That’s not… I didn’t…”

Ivy smiled faintly, her expression almost pitying. “It’s okay, Dylan. You don’t have to hide it. I’m not judging you.”

“I didn’t,” I whispered, but the words felt hollow.

“You’re not like them,” she said, leaning closer. “And it’s time you stopped pretending otherwise.”

For a moment, Ivy’s words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. Her gaze was unrelenting, pinning me in place like she was searching for something in my soul.

And then I saw it.

The glint of something sharp. A wooden stake slipped into her hand, almost too fast for me to process. She must’ve had it hidden in her sleeve.

Before I could even react, she raised it high above her head, the sharp point gleaming in the faint light.

“Wha ” I started, but my voice failed me.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and I saw something there that made my blood run cold. Determination.

The stake began to come down, aimed straight for my chest. It was too late.

But before it could connect, the air around me erupted in a rush of movement. A blur of shadow and light slammed into Ivy with a force that nearly knocked me off the bench.

I stumbled back, my heart pounding as I tried to make sense of what just happened.

Ivy was gone.

The bench was empty, the faint echo of the impact still ringing in my ears. I spun around, searching the darkness, but there was nothing no sign of her, no sign of whatever had taken her.

“What,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

And then I felt it.

The air shifted again, this time behind me.

Before I could turn, something grabbed me strong, unseen hands gripping my shoulders and pulling me backward.

“Wait !” I yelled, but the words were lost as the force yanked me off my feet.

The world spun, my vision blurring as I was dragged into the shadows. The last thing I saw was the empty park bench, illuminated briefly by the flickering streetlight.

And then nothing.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the smell: dust, mothballs, and something faintly metallic. The air was cold and still, the kind of cold that settled into your bones.

I pushed myself up, groaning as my head spun. The room around me was dim, lit only by the flicker of a single oil lamp hanging from a beam. My eyes adjusted slowly, taking in the cluttered space old trunks, faded paintings, strange artifacts that looked like they’d come straight out of a horror movie.

I was in the attic.

“What…” I mumbled, trying to get my bearings.

“Careful, sir,” a voice said, monotone and oddly distant. “Let me help you.”

A pair of pale hands reached down, pulling me to my feet. I blinked, staring at the face in front of me.

“Ryan?” I asked, my voice cracking.

He didn’t look like Ryan not really. His face was pale, his eyes glassy and empty, and his movements were stiff, almost mechanical. He straightened my shirt with a careful precision, his voice flat as he said, “Yes, sir. Please let me know if you require anything.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded, backing away from him. “What happened to you?”

Ryan tilted his head slightly, his gaze unfocused. “I am here to serve the Novak family. I am here to serve you. ”

“You’re… serving us?” I repeated, the word feeling wrong in my mouth.

“Yes, sir,” Ryan said. “I must do as I’m told.”

Then I saw her.

“Ivy?”

She was tied to an old wooden table, her wrists and ankles bound with thick ropes. She was struggling, her dark hair wild, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Dylan!” she yelled, her voice sharp and commanding. “Get me out of here!”

“Ivy, what ”

Before I could finish, a familiar voice cut through the room.

“Dylan.”

I turned, and there they were. My parents, stepping out of the shadows like they’d been there the whole time.

Mom’s face was calm, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Dad’s expression was harder, his eyes sharp and assessing.

“Mom? Dad? What is this?” I asked, my voice rising.

“It’s time, Dylan,” Mom said, her tone soft but unyielding. “It’s time you remembered who you are.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Dad stepped closer, his presence towering and unshakable. “You’re not who you think you are, Dylan. You’re one of us. You always have been.”

“One of you?” I repeated, my stomach twisting.

“Vampires,” Mom said simply.

The word hit like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s that’s not possible.”

“It’s the truth,” Dad said firmly. “You’ve been with us for centuries, Dylan. Until you lost your best friend.”

I blinked, my mind spinning. “My best friend?” I whispered, the words catching in my throat.

Mom’s expression softened, her eyes clouded with something close to sorrow. “Ethan,” she said gently. “You and Ethan were inseparable. For decades, you hunted together, fought together. You were like brothers.”

Ethan. The name stirred something deep inside me, something I couldn’t quite grasp. Flashes of memories laughter, blood, the two of us moving through darkened streets like shadows.

“What happened to him?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“The Nile Clan happened,” Dad said, his voice hardening. “Vampire hunters. They’ve been chasing us for generations. Ethan was their prize. And when they killed him, they broke something in you.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening.

Mom stepped closer, her voice softer now. “You were devastated, Dylan. You couldn’t accept it. You retreated into yourself, clinging to this idea that you could be something else. That you could just… start over.”

“But you never truly forgot,” Dad added. “It’s why we’ve had to keep moving, why we’ve been running for so long. We always knew the Niles were out there, still on the hunt.”

I looked at Ivy, tied to the table, her dark eyes blazing with anger. “She’s one of them,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Yes,” Mom said, her tone sharp. “The Niles have been chasing us for centuries. And when we heard her name, we knew she was here for us. For you.”

I stared at Ivy, my mind spinning. The girl who had fascinated me, confused me, who had made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t felt in so long.

Mom’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “She’s been playing you from the start, Dylan. She never wanted to be your friend.”

“She lied,” Dad added. “Just like they always do.”

“Dylan,” Ivy said, her voice cutting through the haze. “Don’t listen to them. They’re manipulating you.”

But their words kept sinking in, clicking into place alongside all the strange events of the past weeks.

“What about Dr. Hargrave?” I asked suddenly.

Mom’s expression didn’t change. “He was a liability. Once we realized who Ivy was, we couldn’t risk you going back to that class. He was removed.”

Dad smirked. “He served his purpose. Like Ryan, he’s been…repurposed.”

My stomach churned. Dr. Hargrave, gone. Ryan, standing stiff and lifeless in front of me. And Ivy, struggling against the ropes, her voice breaking through the fog in my head.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her tone softening. “You don’t have to be like them.”

But as I looked at her, something inside me shifted. The memories flooded back Ethan’s laughter, his loyalty, the way he always had my back. And then, his scream.

I clenched my fists, the realization settling deep in my chest.

“I won’t lose someone else,” I said, my voice quiet but firm.

“What are you talking about?” Ivy asked, struggling against her bindings.

“I like you,” I said, stepping closer. “I’ll miss you if you’re gone.”

Her eyes widened. “Dylan, no ”

I leaned down, my instincts taking over, and bared my fangs.

* * * *

As I straightened, wiping the faint trace of blood from my lips, the room was silent. Ivy lay still, her breathing shallow, her body trembling as the transformation began.

“She’ll hate you for this,” Mom said, her tone calm but edged with approval.

“Not always,” I said simply.

Dad smirked. “You’ve finally remembered who you are. Welcome back, son.”

I looked down at Ivy, my mind racing with possibilities. She’d be furious when she woke up, sure. But she’d be here. With me. Forever.

And then another thought crept in, dark and almost amusing.

“I think it’s time to invite Logan over to meet the family,” I said, glancing at my parents with a small smile.

They exchanged a knowing look, then nodded.

“Yes,” Mom said, her lips curving into a sly grin. “That’s a wonderful idea.”