The fog is so thick I can barely make out the shape of the trees. I’m afraid that if I move, I’ll lose the path completely. Something is moving through the foliage. I catch flashes of it here and there, but I don’t know what it is. The voice isn’t there to guide me and I don’t know what to do.

I’m immobilized by the fear that I’ll take a wrong step. Whatever is moving out there is getting closer. It’s closing in on me and I’m standing still, easy prey. Finally, terrified, I step forward. The ground shifts beneath my feet and I fall.

I sit with my back against a tree trailing my fingers through the long grass beside me. Ezra texted me asking to meet with him here, on the hill behind the baseball field on campus. He’s kept his promise to call me every night to check in. If not for him, I would be convinced I’m losing my mind. Things are progressing so much more quickly than I thought they would.

He’s not the only one that has been checking in on me. Two days ago, I received another package in the mail from Karl. The package contained a journal written by someone like me, a dhampir. It offered some insight into what’s going to happen to me. It’s comforting in a way, knowing that I’m not the only one who’s experienced this. It’s also more comforting to me than I want to admit that Karl has reached out again. I’d begun to fear that I’d scared him away for good.

Over the past week, my hearing has become sensitive to the point of pain. From our fourth floor dorm, I can hear the dryers running in the ground floor laundry room. My sense of smell is becoming more acute, too. It makes sitting through a lecture miserable, with all the body sprays and perfumes mingling in an unbearable, chemical cloud around me. The headaches I’ve been getting are awful.

The journal contains anecdotes of similar experiences. It also warns me of what will happen next, the psychic changes. The man who wrote this journal experienced vivid hallucinations that turned out to be premonitions of the future. Nothing like that has happened to me yet, but I’m becoming paranoid about it. Every odd sensation or sound makes me think it’s starting.

I've been waiting for Ezra for almost an hour now. He's late. The longer it takes for him to arrive, the more nervous I get that he’s changed his mind. Or worse, that he was wrong and there is no way to stop this.

I’m worried that if he waits too much longer, I'll change my mind. The more my senses develop, the more difficult it becomes to believe that this is monstrous. I don’t feel like I’m losing myself to these emerging abilities. I feel like I’m finding myself.

I don't want to be a monster, but by the same token I don’t believe my father was a monster. Then again, I didn’t really know him, did I? Maybe it's because of the feeling of power that my heightened senses give me. Maybe I'm being corrupted by that feeling. That would make me evil, wouldn’t it? Things have become so complicated so quickly, it’s hard to know what I really want.

I smell sage and candle wax on the breeze, and I know it's Ezra making his way up the hill. I call out a hello well before I see him. When he finally reaches me, he's got a concerned look on his face. I look at him expectantly.

"It's gotten worse then?" he asks.

"It’s gotten more powerful," I say.

"I hoped it would be a slower process.” He looks apologetic as he sits beside me. "It took time to get a response, but she's agreed to help."

“I’m grateful. How soon can she do it?” I don’t mean to sound impatient, but I am.

"We can start the process now.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. It would be quaint if the situation weren't so dire.

“What is that?" I ask as he holds it out to me.

"A potion,” he says jokingly. It’s the first time I've heard him joke. I can’t help but smile. If he's comfortable enough to joke, that must mean that he’s confident this will work.

“So, what do I do with this?"

"Steep it," he says. “It's tea." There's a woody scent to the package. I take it gingerly as he offers it to me. "She says it's the first step. You need to drink it every night for the next week."

"And what exactly is this going to do?”

“It may have some side effects,” he says. “It will make you very tired and you’ll likely lose your appetite.”

I nod, tucking the package into my backpack and choosing not to acknowledge the fact that he didn’t answer my question. “That’s pretty mild. What do I do when the week is up?” I sit back against the tree.

“I’ll take you to her. There’s a ritual to follow that she’ll walk you through,” he says. “I want to see this through, to make sure it’s resolved.”

“I have to ask Ezra, why are you helping me? Why not kill me while I’m weak instead of taking the risk of waiting?” I’m grateful for his help, but I can’t say I understand it. He said he’s a vampire hunter, why make an exception for me?

“You’re not one of them yet,” he says, looking exhausted. Now that I think of it, he always looks exhausted. “Besides, you didn’t even know. I can’t imagine how frightened you must be by all of this.”

I’m touched by his sympathy, and it must show on my face, because he looks embarrassed. “Thank you.” I take his hand and he stares down at me. “Are you alright? You seem tired.” He searches my face but doesn’t answer. His expression is almost suspicious, as if he can’t believe I actually care. “Ezra?”

“You know, I’ve been doing this for a long time,” he says softly, running his thumb over the back of my knuckles. “As long as I can remember, and I’ve never been so hesitant about what the right thing to do is.” He’s not looking at me, as if he can’t make eye contact while he says this. “What you are is. He grimaces, “it complicates something that I’ve always found easy. Vampires drink blood, they kill people, they’re corrupted souls.” He shakes his head as he speaks. “But you’re not a vampire. You aren’t human either, I just,” he pulls away from my hand carefully. “I just don’t know what to make of you.”

“I could say the same about you,” I say. “I appreciate your help, truly. I wish there was some way I could repay you.” He shakes his head at this, and I can’t help but think that something else is weighing on him. Something that he’s trying to hide. He’s avoiding my eyes like he’s afraid if I look into them I’ll see something he doesn’t want me to see.

“Keeping you from turning into one of them is payment enough.”

“How did you become a vampire hunter?” I ask, watching an array of emotions flit over his features. His jaw is tense, like he’s trying to hold something in.

“It runs in the family,” he says dismissively.

“So, you didn’t have a choice,” I say gently. His sympathy makes a little more sense if that’s the case. He knows what it’s like to be powerless.

“I help a lot of people, doing what I do,” he responds. He finally meets my eyes and there’s a determination in his expression when he does.

“Are you from Chicago?" I ask, changing the subject. I've been curious all along about how he ended up on campus. He seems so familiar with the area.

"I grew up here, yes," he says with a faraway look on his face. "But I haven't been home for a long time."

"Then you came back because of me?"

"Not quite," he says. "Over the past few weeks, the activity in this area has increased significantly. I came to investigate why that is and to clear out some of the vampires. When I saw you on campus, I recognized you and realized why there were so many flocking here."

"Recognized me?"

"You’re sort of famous, in certain circles,” he says.

I'm not sure what to make of that. I hate not knowing more about what's going on. I hate that I've been blindsided by all of this. "Famous how?"

"Your father was very important. That’s probably the best way to put it," he says hesitantly. He's choosing his words carefully, trying not to upset me by talking about my father.

"Why do I get the feeling you mean important in a bad way?" He makes a noncommittal sound and puts his hand on my knee, patting awkwardly. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be tactful, but I feel like I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“You do,” he agrees. “But I can’t tell you much, unfortunately. I’m a hunter, not a vampire. I don’t know a lot of details.” I put my hand over his and he glances at me. I give him what I hope is an imploring look. “I wish I could tell you more.”

I sigh and let my head fall back against the tree. “It’s fine,” I mutter. “I’ll find out some other way.” His hand is still on my knee and I feel his grip tighten slightly.

“Other way?”

I’m afraid to mention Karl, so I lie. I hate that I keep doing that. “I’ll try to get mother to tell me.”

“She’s still not helping you?” he begins to rub my knee lightly. The sensation sends a pleasant shiver through me, and I open my eyes to look at him.

“No,” I say, watching the way his eyes move up my leg. “She just keeps telling me to come home.” I sit forward, moving just a little closer to him.

“Why don’t you?” he looks up, meeting my eyes for the first time today.

“I don’t want to run away,” I answer softly. “It wouldn’t change what’s happening and I don’t want to risk leading anything back with me.”

“You’re brave,” he says.

I wrap my fingers lightly around his wrist and lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. His hand slips just a little further up my leg as he leans forward to return the pressure. I shiver as he pulls back. “This is a bad idea,” he says, his breath ghosting over my lips before he gets to his feet.

I stand too, embarrassed and not sure what to say to him. “Ezra,” I begin.

“It’s almost nightfall,” he says. “I can walk you home. Just to be safe.”

I nod and mutter my thanks. I feel like an idiot. I’ve clearly misread the situation and made a fool of myself. I keep my eyes downcast, until I feel his fingers brush mine. When our eyes meet, he smiles apologetically at me. “It’s just not a good time,” he says softly, lacing his fingers with mine. I feel my face heat up as I squeeze his hand and smile back.