Raina's POV

I stood rooted to the ground, my mind unable to comprehend what I was staring at. Ava’s neck was torn open, blood soaking her right side in a gruesome cascade. I wanted to turn away, to erase the sight from my mind—but I had to be sure.

Pushing past the sheriff, I reached for the wound, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the blood. I needed to see. I needed proof.

“What are you doing, Raina?” Sheriff Grant’s voice was sharp, his grip firm as he yanked me back.

Tears burned at the edges of my vision. Ava had been a bully. She’d wanted me dead. But I couldn’t bring myself to hate her—not like this. She was too young to die.

I struggled against his grip, desperate to check the wound again, but he was stronger. With a heavy breath, he pulled the sheet over her face, blocking her from view. As if that would make this any less real. As if the image of her lifeless body wasn’t already seared into my memory.

“Raina.” His voice grounded me, and I forced my gaze to meet his. “Get in the car.”

I shook my head, my breath shaky. “No. It was them.”

His expression didn’t shift, but something flickered in his eyes—realization. He turned away, muttering something to the paramedics, his words too low to catch. But I saw the tension in his jaw. The way he squared his shoulders.

Like he knew something.

Like this wasn’t just some tragic accident.

I knew pushing for answers wouldn’t get me anywhere. It was late, and there was nothing more I could do tonight. Any investigation would have to wait until morning.

I cast one last glance at the covered body, then turned and made my way to the car.

Work the next morning was bleak. Ava hadn’t been anyone 's bestie, but she was one of us. The air hung heavy with unspoken words, the weight of her death gnawing at the edges of every conversation. It felt even stranger knowing her cause of death was unknown—but I had a pretty good idea what happened. All I needed was proof.

We were allowed to close early as a show of respect, but I finished my deliveries by one. There was no point lingering until the official closing hours at four.

I hopped on my bike—still surprisingly in good shape—and went straight to the town library. The internet might hold a sea of information, but it was riddled with misleading details. If anyone could give me answers besides the vampires themselves, it would be Miss Dorothy—the town’s librarian.

It had been a while since I last visited. As a child, I loved reading and listening to Miss Dorothy’s stories, but ever since I got a job, I barely had time to stop by. I imagined my sudden appearance would surprise her.

The library stood at the center of town, easily accessible to everyone. Its exterior, cloaked in shadows from towering trees, looked menacing to outsiders. Miss Dorothy often claimed she came from a line of witches, and her choice of decor did little to disprove that.

I parked my bike in front of the one-story building, its gloomy facade stirring an unexpected unease within me. The town’s folk were used to it—so was I—but today, something felt… off.

I approached the wooden front door. Pushing it open, I stepped inside, the scent of freshly delivered books and aged paper wrapped around me. Usually, Miss Dorothy was the first person in sight, her office conveniently positioned by the entrance. She’d either be brewing a mysterious portion—or so she claimed—or buried in a book. But today, the desk was empty.

The towering shelves loomed over me, the dim lighting casting long, twisted shadows. The spiral staircase at the far end seemed to stretch into infinity. The library felt deserted.

I sighed, turning to leave.

The door slammed shut.

“Darling, welcome. Why leave so soon when you rarely visit?” A smooth, charismatic voice drifted from the top of the stairs.

My lips curled into a smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Dorothy. It’s good to see you.”

“I know, dear.” She descended gracefully, her fingers brushing along the spines of books. “And I assume you’ve come bearing gifts?”

I tilted my head. “Gifts?”

“Yes, gifts.” She disappeared behind a shelf. “People rarely visit libraries anymore. Why struggle with hard copies when the internet feeds you everything?” She scoffed, her voice laced with disdain. “But you’re here, ignoring the books, searching for me—which means you’re looking for answers. To me, that's a gift.”

“So, you love when people ask questions?”

She reappeared suddenly, startling me. “Why, yes. You don’t think I hoard all this knowledge for nothing, do you?”

I shrugged. “When you put it like that….”

“So, how may I help you?” Her voice purred behind me now. I stifled a yelp. “What brings a Wycliffe to my humble abode?”

“The killings.”

She stilled for a beat, her eyes narrowing. “What about them?”

“I think vampires are responsible,” I said, my voice firm. “That’s why I want you to tell me everything you know about them.”

Her silence stretched too long. I met her gaze, willing her to believe me.

“What exactly do you want to know?” she finally asked, circling me.

“Everything.”

“That’s broad, honey. Narrow it down.”

“Fine.” I squared my shoulders. “How many kinds of vampires are there? And which are the most deadly?”

She cocked her head, lips twitching. “All of them are deadly. As for the kinds, it depends. Are you looking into a particular breed?”

“Wind Vampires.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Go on.”

“Vampires are nocturnal, but do wind vampires have special powers that let them roam during the day?”

Miss Dorothy froze. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I saw one,” I said.

Before I could blink, she grabbed my shoulders with surprising speed, clamping a hand over my mouth.

“Be careful what you say out loud,” she hissed.

I shoved her hand away. “I have the right to speak. I’m serious—I saw one.”

As if the walls had ears, the windows slammed shut. The dim light flickered above. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Not everything the eyes see, the mouth must speak.”

I rolled my eyes. “Or else what?”

Her expression darkened. “Or else you just might turn up dead.”