By the next morning, I’ve completely unpacked and decorated my side of the room. I was too wound up and anxious to relax and needed to keep busy to keep my mind off of the insanity my life is quickly becoming.

The crucifix my mother had squirreled away in my bag is now hanging above the head of my bed and I feel comforted by its presence, but not nearly as much as I would like. It’s the same one that hung above my childhood bed, a gift from my grandmother.

I can’t stop thinking about Karl. It’s like his face is burned into the back of my eyelids. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I can’t stop thinking about the way his hands enveloped mine and the look in his eyes just before he vanished. He looked almost disappointed. Why does that bother me so much?

Cass is off to tryouts for the volleyball team, so I’m on my own, which is the last thing I want right now. I’ve been sitting on my bed for the last twenty minutes staring at the box that was delivered yesterday and trying to decide if I’m going to open it or chuck it out the window. If I do that, someone will probably return it. I’m afraid to know what’s in it and I’m afraid to ignore it.

Karl said it was for protection. If anything he told me is true, then I would be an idiot not to accept it, wouldn’t I? Especially after those freaks attacked me. I’ve never felt so unprepared for anything in my life as I feel now, confronted with proof that the supernatural is real.

I grab the box and shove it to the bottom of my backpack. It’s bright and sunny out and as far as I know, monsters don’t come out during the day. Then again, I’m a monster too, apparently. Either way I need to get out of this dorm and try to clear my head.

I wish I had asked more questions instead of chasing him away, but I was blindsided. "You’re a vampire." Who just says that to someone? He didn’t even try to soften the blow; he said it like I should have already known. I don’t even want to entertain the possibility that my mother would keep something like this from me, but I keep picturing her face every time I brought up father. She always looked so haunted, so afraid. God, it’s really true, isn’t it?

My backpack feels heavy, though it isn’t really, and I try to ignore it as I walk aimlessly around campus. It’s really a beautiful place, it’s a shame I haven’t had a chance to enjoy it yet. The towering trees sprinkled around campus must be beautiful in the fall. I can see students congregating in their shade now, and I feel a little jealous that I’m not relaxing with new friends. Instead, I’m trying to outrun an existential crisis by speed walking away from it.

Classes will be starting in just two days and I’m still a little lost on the unfamiliar grounds. I try to take note of the building names as I pass. It isn’t long before I find myself back at the library. I bypass the rows of cozy seats and find my way to the computers. It takes a few attempts to remember my student login, but I’m able to get access.

The word “dhampir” returns a lot of results, but most of them are related to game characters. The useful information that I can find is very short and anything but detailed. Dhampir are the children of a human and a vampire. I already know that much. I try searching for more information about vampires, but I’m overwhelmed almost immediately. General web searches aren’t helping, so I decide to try an academic archive.

To my surprise, there are dozens of pages of results. Who would have guessed there would be such a plethora of academic writing about vampires? I pull out a notebook and my pen pouch and start taking notes. Despite the topic, the familiarity of research calms me. I lose myself in the work and would probably have been wrapped up in it all day, but I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. It’s not quite the same feeling I had before I was attacked, but it’s similar. There’s a sensation tingling along my spine that warns me to be on alert. I look around the computer lab a few times, but I can’t see anyone suspicious.

I log out of the computer and gather my things. The library is busy today and it could just be my paranoia and the crowd making me feel watched. I head out to the student union to find some food and try to decide what to do next.

I want to call my mother, but I’m too scared of what she’ll tell me. I only did a few hours of research about vampires, but what I was able to learn was contradictory at best. It seems that every culture on the planet has some kind of vampire lore. When I think about my father, I can’t help but think that some of it seems to fit. Is it really possible that father was a vampire? Is that why my mother doesn’t like to talk about him?

Heightened senses are part of the vampire lore from what I could see, and I've always had a strangely intense sense of hearing. Besides that, my sense of smell has always been uniquely acute. These could just be coincidences and maybe I'm thinking too hard about it because I want to believe Karl. I want to make sense of everything that's happened over the past few days. Between strange men attacking me, the bizarre sounds, and the weird dreams, maybe I'm making connections where none exist.

If it is all true, then how much of my life has been a lie? How many people have been deceiving me intentionally? Or did they not know? Did Mother know, or did Father keep it a secret from her too? The only way to find out is to call her and ask, but I don't know if I could handle talking to her about everything that's happened. She told me I wouldn't be able to handle being on my own. Was that because she knew the truth and if so did she know the kind of danger I would be in?

I need to stop thinking about it or I'm just going to make myself cry again. I get a sandwich from The Commons and find a quiet empty spot to sit by myself. As much as I don't want to be alone right now, I also don't feel like making small talk.

I pull my backpack onto my lap and retrieve the box. I pick at the edge of the tape sealing it, until I’m able to pull it away and open it. I take a deep breath and pull the cardboard flaps aside, revealing a velvet pouch. There’s a pulsing feeling in my fingertips as I grab the bag and carefully open it. The feeling intensifies as I reach inside. My fingers touch cold metal and I pull out a bracelet.

Jewelry isn’t really what I expected. I turn the dark metal over in my hands, inspecting it closely. It looks like iron with a delicate, twisted design and a small orange stone set in the middle. It’s beautiful, and I slip it onto my wrist without hesitation. The moment I do, a sense of calm washes over me and I sigh in relief. The uneasy, hair-raising sensation I had been carrying with me is gone and I feel like I’m able to focus again.

I stand to take the empty box to the trash and as I do I spot a tall, light-haired man watching me intensely. The moment we make eye contact he turns and walks towards the exit. I glance out the window to confirm that it’s still daylight, then look back in time to see the door close behind him.

He must be the reason I’ve felt watched all day. I can't help but groan in frustration. Ever since I arrived in this city there have been strange men following me, staring at me, making me feel unsafe. What gives him the right? Fueled by my frustration, I take off at a quick pace, following after him.

When I catch up to him, I grab his wrist and turn him to face me. He seems surprised that I followed him. I'm not sure what to say, so I just stand there in front of him, glaring.

"Can I help you?" he asks in a monotone voice.

"Why are you following me?" I demand.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says. He's got sandy hair and deep blue eyes with dark bags beneath them. He looks exhausted and a little bored, but I have a feeling that's just an act.

"I know you've been following me," I say. "I just want to know why. "

"You’re Lidia Parn, aren't you?" He says it in an accusatory tone.

"Yes I am," I answer. "Is that a problem?"

“It might be,” he says. "It’s foolish for someone like you to be out here unprotected.”

Now I'm really angry. So, he knows who I am too? Am I the only one who doesn't know who the hell I am?

"How do you know me?" I demand. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Ezra," he says simply, as if I'm supposed to know what that means. He looks at me for a few moments, studying the anger and confusion on my face. Then he asks, "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"No," I say truthfully. He nods once then reaches into his pocket. I take a half step back nervously, but I relax when he pulls out a business card and hands it to me.

"It's not your fault you are what you are," he says in a tone that I think is supposed to be sympathetic. "I can help you. The decision has to be yours, but if you don't want to be this," he hesitates, "This monstrous thing…call me." Then he simply turns and walks away.

I stare down at the card in my hand. It's a simple business card with an email address, a phone number and the name Ezra Jannsen at the top. If I don't want to be this monstrous thing? Is he saying there's a way to get rid of my vampire half? If that means that my life doesn't have to change, that I don't have to give up who I am and everything that I've wanted for myself, well that’s a tempting offer.

My fingers run over the warming metal of the bracelet as I watch Ezra’s back growing more distant. What he’s offering may be too good to be true, but I don’t think I have the willpower to resist it.