Chapter 3

Raina's POV 

My mind scrambled for an excuse—something, anything—that wouldn't land me in the back of a police squad car.

“I heard about the news,” I said quickly, watching as his eyes narrowed, “so I came to see if there were any missing clues. You know, in case what happened to my parents is the same thing that happened to her.” I dropped my gaze, hoping to play pitiful.

Sheriff Grant's face softened, but his scowl remained. “Raina, it's been seven years. The police are still looking into your parents’ disappearance, but that doesn't give you the right to go around town playing detective.”

I sighed, forcing a regretful expression. “I'm sorry. I.. I should probably get to work then.”

Brushing past him, I hurried toward the steps, but his voice stopped me before I could leave the porch. 

“Raina, did you, perhaps, deliver a package to Miss Agnes yesterday? Maybe saw something?”

My stomach clenched, panic clawing its way to the surface. The last thing I needed was a run-in with the law, especially not here. Not now.

“What makes you think I delivered a package to Miss Agnes yesterday?” I asked, my voice laced with defensiveness.

Sheriff Grant shrugged. “You usually do, don't you?”

“Yeah.” 

“So, did you stop by yesterday and see anything?”

For a moment, I considered telling him everything. But then another thought took hold—one that was worth asking.

“Sheriff, If I may ask… what makes you think Miss Agnes is missing? It's barely been twenty-four hours.”

He studied me, then glanced past my shoulders as if checking to see if anyone was behind me. “Always answering questions with more questions,” he muttered. “Follow me.”

Reluctantly, I stepped inside after him, stopping when he reached the kitchen. Extending a finger, he pointed.

“There, there, and there. You can see the signs of a struggle. A neighbor came by this morning and found she wasn't home. Her bed hadn't been slept in, which struck them as odd. Everyone knows Miss Agnes barely leaves her house, so they called us to check on her. That's when we found fingerprints in one of the rooms—prints that don't match Miss Agnes'.”

I tried to steady my breath. The counter bore deep scratch marks, as if she had clung to it, trying to stop someone from dragging her away. The cupboard near the sink had a fresh dent that hadn't been there before. But what disturbed me the most was the absence of blood.

If I hadn't seen it for myself, I might've thought I'd hallucinated. The kitchen was spotless. Too spotless. Just like upstairs, now that I thought about it.

“Come on,” Sheriff Grant said, heading toward the stairs. “Let me show you more.”

I couldn't let him see my note.

“I think I'm already running late, Sheriff, but I get it now.”

He exhaled, then gave me a hard look. “Just keep your eyes and ears open for anything, and don't hesitate to report to the police.”

“Sure.” I turned to leave, but hesitated, glancing back at him. “Sheriff, one last thing…. how much do you believe in vampires?”

His brows lifted slightly before he stroke his moustache, one hand resting on his holster. “They've only ever been stories to me. But I do believe vampires may have lived in this town… once upon a time.”

“Do you think?—” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “Or maybe assume.. I don't know, that they might have returned? That they could be responsible for these disappearances?”

He watched me for a long moment before answering. “That could be a possibility. Unless someone has seen one recently—”

“I have.” 

The words were out before I could stop them.

“Excuse me?”

“I saw one. Last night.”

His eyes darkened. “Where?”

“Here. I came to deliver a package, and I found it feeding on Miss Agnes. But when it saw me…it ran.”

For a second, Sheriff Grant went rigid. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing.

“Jeez, Raina, you almost had me there for a moment! With that timing, and seriousness—damn, that's some crazy good acting.”

I frowned. “I'm serious. I thought you said if someone had seen one, you'd believe them?”

“You didn't let me finish,” he said between chuckles. “I was going to add, ‘and has evidence.’ Well, do you?”

“No. But—”

“Stop it, Raina,” he snapped, his scowl returning in full force. “This case is already giving me a headache. I don't have time for dumb pranks. You're twenty-two now, maybe focus on getting a spouse instead of believing old fairytales.”

I clenched my fists. To think I actually believed someone would listen to me. 

“Fine. Have fun looking for someone who's already dead.”

“If I were you, I'd watch what you say next,” he warned. “I could use your words against you and have you arrested.” He paused, humming as if in thought before continuing. “Think about it, Raina. Vampires don't care about being caught. So, why would they bother cleaning up their tracks when they could just compel people to forget? If you'd really met a vampire, you'd either be dead or have no memory of last night. So it's probably something else you saw. 

“And I'm not taking you to the station—yet. But I'll let you go on one condition: stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.”

I nodded, swallowing down my anger as I turned to leave.

“And one last thing,” he added, his tone dropping. “Let's just say you're right. If you can bring me actual, untempered proof that vampires still exist, I'll grant you access to any place in town for your investigation.”

I didn't reply, just stepped out into the fresh morning air.

As I rode to work, I kept replaying our conversation, my mind circling back to one unsettling thought: I hadn't fought that vampire and won.

He had let me go.

The sinking realization twisted my gut, but I pushed the fear down. No. It wasn't luck. If I was still alive, it was probably because I was useful in some way. And if I was wrong… I still had the Vampire's protection necklace. That meant I was more valuable alive than dead.

Pulling into the compound of SwiftDrop Logistics —the delivery company I worked for—I sighed. My usual parking spot near the back door was taken, forcing me to park in the last lane, the farthest corner from the entrance.

After locking my bike, I crouched to check the gas level for my deliveries when a presence loomed behind me.

The hairs on my arms stood on edge. My pulse quickened, my heart hammering in my chest.

Something about the presence wasn't normal. If I so much as opened my mouth to scream, I knew—I knew—I'd be gone before the sound escaped.

Steeling myself, I turned.

Dark, empty eyes bore into mine, the veins beneath them black and spreading across his face. His fangs lengthened as he exhaled one word:

“Mel.”