So, turns out vampires are real

{if Darkness < 50}

I jolt awake like someone pulled me up from underwater.

And I remember. All of it.

My body tightens instinctively—but it’s not her I see.

It’s him. Lucius. Still here. Sitting in my armchair like this is normal, like we're just old friends catching up.

“Get—get away from me,” I breathe out, stumbling backward off the couch. I hit the floor hard but scramble up, pushing myself against the wall. My hands are shaking. “Don’t come any closer!”

He doesn't move. Doesn’t even twitch. Just sits there like some kind of sculpture in black clothes, watching me with those icy blue eyes.

“You’re alright,” he says calmly. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“You’re a... vampire,” I snap, my voice cracking on the last word. “Your fangs... you jumped me—what the hell was that for?”

“There was no other way, I told you I'm sorry. I had to unlock what was already inside you,” he replies, evenly. “You wanted answers. Now you have them.”

I stay glued to the wall. My chest’s tight, like the air’s gone thick. My thoughts keep darting from him to the door to the window—anywhere I could bolt. But I don’t. Some part of me knows I wouldn't make it. He’s too fast. I saw it.

Still. I can't just sit here like this.

He must sense it, because his voice softens.

“Thalia. If I meant to harm you, you wouldn’t be standing now.”

I stare at him. My pulse is still going crazy, but... he hasn’t moved. Not an inch. And there’s nothing in his face that looks hungry or predatory. Just calm. And old. That’s the weirdest part. He looks maybe twenty, but something about the way he holds himself feels ancient. Heavy.

“What do you want?” I ask, quieter this time.

“To warn you,” he says. “To keep you safe, if I can.”

I sink back down onto the couch without meaning to. My knees just kind of give out. I sit there, staring at my own hands. My fingers are ice cold.

And then, finally, her name slips out. “Ariadne.”

“Yes.”

"She bit me," I begin but then like a bullet a terrifying thought crosses my mind. "Wait! Does that mean... I'll be..."

"No, my child. You cannot turn if you don't consume vampire blood."

Ok... ok. Breathe. You're not becoming a monster. Yet.

I glance up. “Thank God... So... what's her goal? And how do you know her so well?”

Lucius nods. “She was once... something of a protégé to me. She's chaotic and dangerous, and her goals shift and change on a daily basis. She is predictable only in her unpredictability. And in her sensuality, I got to give her that.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” I shake my head slowly. “You said she was like... your grandchild?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“That's... a bit hard to swallow.”

“I know.”

I exhale. My stomach twists.

“She bit me,” I start over, not looking at him. “And... I couldn't stop her. Shit... I think I even didn’t want to stop her later on...”

Lucius doesn’t interrupt.

“I don't understand... there was pain at first, but then... It didn’t feel—bad,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “It felt... warm. Like something crawling under my skin. Like I was floating. And then I just let her take it. And I liked it. What the hell does that make me? Are you sure I'm not going to... turn?”

He leans forward slightly. “No, you were just entranced. It’s a side effect of the bite, and, to give her credit, she's very talented in making it pleasurable for her victims. You see, vampire saliva bends the mind, so the pleasure you experienced was manufactured.”

I finally meet his gaze again.

“So you’re saying I didn’t actually enjoy it. That it wasn’t real.”

“I’m saying the feeling was not really your own. But the shame you feel now—that is.”

That shuts me up.

I sit there, hugging the blanket around myself. My whole body is confused. Shaky. I’m here and safe, but also nothing feels safe anymore. Like reality’s gone soft around the edges and I’m just trying to hold it in place with my bare hands.

Lucius stands, slow and deliberate, and moves toward the window. He doesn’t look out, just lingers near it like some ritual.

"So... what now?" I murmur.

“You cannot go out after dark,” he says. “Not until she loses interest.”

My brow furrows. “Why? She knows where I live?”

“She doesn’t. Not yet. Her connection to you isn’t strong enough to track you through walls or locked doors. But if you wander the city at night, exposed... she will find you. Eventually.”

“And then what? She finishes the job?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Jesus.”

“I can’t protect you if you expose yourself,” he adds. “Your best chance is remaining inside after sundown. Until her attention fades. She’s impulsive. Her focus will shift eventually. I'll let you know when that happens.”

I nod slowly, biting my bottom lip. “So I’m stuck here. A prisoner in my own apartment.”

“A survivor in it,” he corrects.

I look at him again, feeling the weight of everything crash down in slow motion. The surrealness. The fear of what could've been if he hadn't intervened. The shame at my own body for betraying me like that. And beneath all of it, the question that won’t leave me alone.

“Why are you even doing this?” I ask. “Helping me. You’re one of them.”

Lucius sits back in the armchair while watching me quietly. “I’ve lived long enough to watch the consequences of what I’ve created.”

He pauses. And then, softly—

“Sometimes... all that’s left is to lessen the damage.”

{else}

I wake with a gasp, heart pounding like it’s trying to punch through my ribs.

No time for confusion. I remember.

All of it.

Ariadne’s lips. Her body pressed to mine. Her mouth at my neck. The feeling—

God, the feeling.

I bolt upright, breath ragged—and then I see him.

Lucius.

Sitting exactly where he was before I blacked out. Still. Watching. That same infuriating calm on his face.

I tense. My fingers claw at the blanket like it’s a shield. “You—Jesus—you’re a vampire.”

He doesn’t move. “Yes.”

“You did something to me—”

“No. She did.”

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come. My chest tightens, but not with fear. Not exactly. I feel raw. Scraped open. Like I’ve been hollowed out and something precious taken from inside me.

And the worst part? Part of me wants it back.

I shake my head. Try to shake the feeling too.

“She bit me,” I say, quieter. “And I let her. I didn’t even try to stop her.”

“You were under her influence. And this influence is corrupting.”

“No... not really. I mean—yes, but...” My voice trails off. I wrap my arms tighter around myself. “It didn’t feel like a violation.”

Lucius watches me, unreadable.

“I know, I should be disgusted,” I say, forcing a laugh that dies in my throat. “But I’m not. I feel... I don’t know. Like I’ve lost something I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Still he says nothing. I hate that he’s not surprised.

“She didn’t hurt me, not really,” I add, suddenly. “She probably could have, but she didn’t. She was—gentle.”

Lucius’s brow tightens, just a fraction. “Gentle is not the same as benign. What she did to you was wrong.”

“Maybe... but I don't feel corrupted or influenced or whatever you said.”

“That means you already are. Think about it.”

That lands like a slap.

But another thought hits me and I stammer, "Am-am I going to tra-tranform into... uhm...?"

"No. You'd need to consume her blood for that which you obviously didn't, so you're good regarding that."

Ok, a relief. Not turning into a vampire. But... would've been interesting to see how it is... shame it's probably permanent.

“You need to be aware that she’s dangerous, Thalia. I know her and she’s become fixated, and fixation in a vampire like her is a **** sentence waiting to happen.”

“You mean like what she did to Trevor? Well, she didn’t kill Trevor—you did,” I shoot back. “You said she only toyed with him.”

“Yes, and that turned deadly for him, didn't it? You must understand, that’s what she does. She toys with what she wants until it breaks.”

I flinch. He's right, of course. In essence, he saved me twice from Ariadne already. And he's doing it for the third time right now...

Lucius stands slowly, pacing once, then stops. “You need to stay indoors after dark. Do you understand? The connection between you two isn’t strong enough for her to find you in here. But if you go wandering again...”

“She’ll find me,” I finish. My voice is steady, but something inside me trembles—and it’s not fear. It’s... longing. And that terrifies me more than anything.

I look up at him, trying to focus. “Why are you helping me?”

Lucius sits down again and meets my gaze, his expression softening.

“I’ve seen what her victims become. And I’ve lived with the consequences of what I’ve created, longer than anyone should.”

There’s something almost sad in his eyes. But not weakness, just weight and regret.

“Sometimes,” he adds, “the best you can do is try to balance the scales.”

I nod slowly.

{endif}

I keep asking myself if I’m seriously going to trust this… vampire. God, it still feels insane to even think that word like it’s real. But what if he’s messing with me? Luring me into some kind of vampire turf war or coven or—I don’t know—whatever the hell vampires do? But then I think back to the night. He carried me home. Undressed me. Showered me. Put me to sleep. I woke up naked, but he didn’t do anything. Didn’t touch me or... bite me. If he wanted something, he had every chance. So why go through all that trouble? Maybe I’m being stupid, but he doesn’t seem like someone with bad intentions.

"Thanks for helping me yesterday," I say, finally remembering basic manners.

"No need to thank me. Consider it... damage control," he replies, like it’s the most mundane thing in the world.

"Still, you could’ve done anything to me," I mutter, the thought crawling up my spine. "By the way, what happened to my dress?"

"Ah. Yeah, I got rid of it," he says, almost apologetic. "Didn’t think it’d be great for you to wake up next to a blood-soaked reminder."

"Oh..." I blink. "Yeah. That probably would've sent me straight to the police. Or into cardiac arrest."

I let out a shaky laugh—maybe the first one all night.

"Exactly," he says, like it’s obvious.

He stands again, brushing down the front of his coat like he’s just wrapped up a dinner party instead of a vampire intervention.

“So that’s it?” I ask, still curled on the couch, arms crossed and pulse slowly returning to something that doesn’t feel like a heart attack. “You drop the biggest supernatural bomb in the history of ever and just... leave?”

Lucius turns slightly, casting a look back at me that’s more tired than annoyed. “There’s not much else to say.”

“Right. Except I’m apparently on some sexy vampire lunatic’s hit list. What am I supposed to do? Call the cops?”

He tilts his head. “You already tried your luck with them. I warned you it would be a waste of time.”

That stops me cold. “Wait—how do you know that?”

A faint smirk pulls at his mouth, not quite reaching his eyes. “Let’s say I have ways of keeping track of people of interest.”

“Creepy. Thanks.”

“The police are not just useless,” he adds, all humor gone now. “They’re compromised. The Order sees to that.”

I blink. “The what?”

“The Order. It's an old, loose structure, sort of an authority for most vampires, for those who decided hiding in plain sight was better than chaos.”

“And let me guess... they control all the worlds governments as well?”

He looks at me for a long beat, then says, quieter, “Governments? You mean puppets, I hope you know that much. As for controlling them, no, not really. They tried, but it's difficult for us to deal with all the mortal stuff."

"Are you part of that... Order?"

"Not anymore. Besides, they’re another of my sins.”

That makes my stomach twist. “You keep saying cryptic shit like that. Why don't you just explain what your true goals are?”

“I’ve explained enough. More than I should.”

“You mean more than you want to.” I push myself up to stand, still unsteady but trying not to show it. “So what now? Do I just pretend none of this happened? Pretend I didn’t have... that... with her?”

His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t answer the question I didn’t really ask.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he says instead. “Not friends. Not family. No one. The more people you involve, the bigger target you become.”

“Monica’s already worried about me.”

“Then lie to her.”

“I’m a terrible liar.”

“Get better.”

I snort, humorless. “On whose side are you, anyway?”

He gives that slow exhale again. “Neither. Neither side wants me. And I don’t want them.”

“Oh come on,” I mutter. “You’re a vampire. You still feed, don’t you? That kinda puts you squarely on Team Bloodsucker.”

That earns me a low, dry laugh. “If I’m on any team, it’s janitorial. I clean up after the worst of them. The ones who don’t stop. The ones like her, when they go too far.”

He turns toward the door. “You still have a choice. Stay inside. Stay quiet. Don’t give in to her.”

“To her,” I repeat, feeling the tremble in my voice before I hear it. “Or to the part of me that failed to say no?"

He pauses, just for a moment, and doesn’t answer that one directly.

“If you want to stay yourself,” he says, not turning back this time, “then don’t open the door when the dark comes knocking.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

And I’m alone again. Except this time, I know exactly what’s out there. And worse—what’s inside me now.

---

I don’t remember going to the window, but here I am—leaning on the sill, staring out at the city lights like they might blink a message at me. Like maybe one of those tiny glowing dots knows what the hell I’m supposed to do next.

Because I sure as hell don’t.

Vampires exist. Real ones. Not the sparkly kind. Not the brooding, romantic antiheroes from all the trash I used to binge when I was fourteen and thought fangs were sexy and danger was foreplay. No, this is real. The real ones are worse. And, somehow, they're more... human.

I pull back from the glass, arms folding tight over my chest. My fingers are shaking and I keep pretending it’s just adrenaline.

I want to talk to someone—God, I need to. Normally I’d call Monica and word-vomit everything until I accidentally made sense of it. That’s how it’s always worked. She’d make some jokes, or maybe just listen and nod, and I’d feel… less insane.

But not this time.

Not just because she wouldn’t believe me. That’s a given. Who would?

It’s because she might believe me. And that’s worse.

What if she believed every word and started poking around, telling her boyfriend, or her therapist, or the goddamn barista at that café she goes to every morning? What if she told the wrong person, and one of them heard? What if she brought them here?

No. Lucius is right, this one’s on me. I have to carry it alone, at least for now.

I sink onto the edge of the couch, rubbing at my face with both hands. I don’t know how long I sit like that. Five minutes? Ten? My brain’s full of static. Like someone opened every tab in my head and set them all on fire.

Lucius.

Even the name sounds like it belongs in another time. Everything about him does. The way he spoke, the way he moved, like he’s been exhausted for a hundred years and is just barely tolerating the weight of one more crisis.

There’s something about him I trust. Or maybe I just want to trust him. Which is stupid. Dangerous. But I didn’t get the sense he wanted anything from me. Not like... her.

Ariadne.

Her name hits like an echo. Not just in my head, but lower. In my chest. In my gut.

She was... different. Electric. The opposite of Lucius. Every move she made pulled you in. Smiled like she knew something you didn’t. Touched like it was a game, and you were the prize.

And God help me, I liked it.

I wrap my arms tighter, legs pulled up under me. There’s a low buzz rising in my ears, like embarrassment boiling into shame.

But I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t know. And even if I had—what would I have done, really? Run? Screamed? Would I even want to?

My hand drifts to my neck before I realize what I’m doing. My fingers brush the faint soreness there. The spot where she bit me.

It doesn’t hurt. But it’s not gone, either.

The memory of her mouth there—the warmth, the pull, the dizzy slide of pleasure twisting up into something deeper—it flashes through me like static in my blood.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

But I don’t pull my hand away.

I just sit there, fingertips hovering over the spot, the silence pressing in around me like a blanket I can’t shake off.