The sun streaming through the blinds wakes me. My throat hurts and my body is aching. For several moments, I don’t know why. Then I remember a flash of green and I feel my heart rate double. I bolt upright and scramble back until I hit the wall.

“Hey girl, rough night?” Cass asks, popping her head out of the bathroom. “You were fast asleep when I got back.” She disappears from sight, but keeps talking. “I was surprised you didn’t even put sheets on the bed. You should have just told me you were tired. I mean, the train always takes it out of me. I would have understood.”

I feel like the gears in my head have rusted over as I try to make sense of the situation. I look down at my arm, but there’s no scrape. I grab my phone and pull up the camera to inspect my face. No bruising on my neck, not a single sign of injury. But I’m still sore, and it felt so real. The last thing I remember is the man with green eyes coming to my rescue, then I blacked out. How did I end up in my bed? It doesn’t make sense.

“How was the party?” I ask weakly as Cass walks out of the bathroom and sits on her bed across from me.

“It was fun. Harry is nice,” she shrugs. “I need some caffeine. You want to hit up the café? I’m going to really explore campus today. I had one of those showing up late in your underwear dreams last night, so I want to make sure I know where all of my classrooms are, you know?”

Dream. It must have been a dream. “Yeah,” I nod slightly. I must have been way more tired than I realized and fallen asleep and had that bizarre dream about being attacked. It seems like a stretch, but given how strange and vivid my dreams have been over the past several weeks, it seems like the only plausible explanation.

I’m probably sore from traveling and dancing, and I bet my throat hurts from trying to talk over the music.

“I’m hungry,” I say as I stand.

“Me too!” Cass exclaims. “We can go as soon as you’re dressed. I’ll buy you breakfast, as a thank you for being so chill about last night.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I start, but Cass waves away my protest. I’m too tired to argue, so I just grab my things from my bag and head into the bathroom.

I mean to get ready quickly, but I zone out, watching the brush pull through my blonde hair. It makes sense to dismiss last night as a dream, but that man is so vivid in my mind's eye, it’s as if I’ve known him all my life. His angular jaw and disheveled dark hair are a clear memory, devoid of the hazy uncertainty most dreams take on once I’m awake. And his voice is achingly familiar.

When I come out, Cass is shutting the front door. I give her an odd look as she turns a small box over in her hands. “Did you order something?”

“No,” I walk to her side. “It’s for me?”

“Depends. Is your last name “Parn”?” she asks, holding the box up so that I can see the label. “Miss Parn” is scrawled across the front in a neat, slanted script. I nod and take the box from her.

“That’s me, but I didn’t order anything.” I’m about to open it when Cass’ stomach growls loudly. There’s a beat of silence before we both laugh. I toss the box onto my bed and grab my purse. “It can wait. Let’s get some food before we both keel over.”

“You’re my new favorite person,” she says, opening the door for me.

We get breakfast in the cafeteria downstairs and chat about our hometowns for a while. Cass was raised Catholic, same as me. It’s nice to meet someone who had a similar upbringing and found a way to walk their own path later on.

Inevitably she asks about my family. We laugh about the similarities between our overprotective, Catholic mothers and she’s sympathetic when I tell her about my father, but I can tell by the look on her face that the conversation makes her uncomfortable. I keep finding myself distracted, so the conversation falters more than once. Eventually, it becomes too awkward and we agree to split up for the afternoon.

I’m feeling strangely introspective, and I want to keep my mind busy to avoid thinking about the bizarre occurrences of the last 24 hours. Inevitably, I find myself in the comfort of the library.

I’ve always loved the quiet of a library and I sit with a fresh cup of coffee, intent on enjoying the clear, warm afternoon. The library is bright and cozy, with a row of plush seats and small tables set against a wall of floor to ceiling windows. I’m warm in the sunlight and it helps to calm me. I stare at the green design on my cup for what feels like a small eternity, not thinking about anything specific. Just trying to put a word to the feelings that are floating around in my head today.

It’s almost nostalgic, but that’s not quite right. Can you be nostalgic for something that you’ve never had?

It’s getting late and the sun is fading from the bank of windows behind me when I’m finally roused from my daydream. I take a sip of my cold drink and contemplate heading back to my room for the night. I still need to unpack.

“It’s rude, you know, not to open a gift.”

I jolt in my seat and turn towards the source of the throaty voice. There’s a man sitting at the table behind me. He’s leaning forward, propped up on his forearms, and smiling mischievously at me. I stare into his bright green eyes and for a moment I smell cornflowers, but I shake it away.

The man’s face is pale and handsome, with aquiline features and a wide mouth. His hair is dark, not quite black, and brushes his shoulders. I know him instantly, he’s my savior from last night.

“I went to the trouble to have it delivered to you so that you would have some protection before nightfall.” He stands and walks towards me, his posture casual and tone conversational, but his eyes are intensely locked on my own. “Yet here we are—you unprotected and me inconvenienced. The least you could do if you insist on venturing into unclaimed territory is take precautions.”

I stand slowly and stare up at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

His smile falters and he raises one eyebrow at me. “Are you joking?”

“Are you?” My pulse sounds strangely loud in my ears as I look at him. A strange man saying strange things just approached me while I’m alone, but I’m not scared of him. I should be, but all I can feel is, well I’m not quite sure what I’m feeling. There’s a tingling sensation at the back of my neck and a fluttering in my chest.

He looks at me for a long moment before a smile returns to his face. “I see. Well, that changes things.”

“I’m really lost here,” I say.

“Lidia Parn,” he holds his hand out to me and bows slightly. “You can call me Karl.”

“How do you know who I am?” I demand, pointedly ignoring his outstretched hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I wasn't expecting to catch you so unawares. Have you really never been told about me?"

“Can you please stop acting like I’m supposed to know what you’re talking about?” He’s a good six inches taller than me, and I feel incredibly small and young while he towers over me. The way he’s looking at me with pity concealed behind a smile only makes me more frustrated.

“Lidia, I know this seems crazy, but I need you to listen to me with an open mind and try to trust me.” I just stare at him, waiting for him to continue. He protected me last night, but trust is still a lot to ask from a complete stranger. He smiles and says: “You’re a vampire.”

“Pretty sure I’d know if I was,” I reply, wanting to laugh at the absurdity, but too shocked to actually do so.

“Half vampire, actually. A Dhampir.”

“I’ve never even heard of that,” I shake my head. His serious tone and expression make it clear he isn’t joking. More than that though, something inside of me, some little buried part, is telling me to listen. I find myself staring at him, unsure of what to do or say.

"I’m telling you this because you must understand the danger that you’re in. There are creatures here that will want to hurt you.”

“Like the men last night,” I say. “So, I’m some vampire hybrid and just never noticed, and you’re what? My fairy godfather?” This is ludicrous. Not only does he expect me to believe that vampires are real, he wants me to believe that I am one. He must be insane.

“Something like that."

“This is too much,” I whisper. He takes my hands gently in his and I’m shocked at how warm they feel. It’s a comforting gesture, and I don’t pull away from it. His hands are big and rough, but he touches me gently.

“I know it must be overwhelming,” he begins. “I know that what I’m telling you seems crazy, but I need you to hear me out.” I nod once, to let him know I’m listening. “Your father was a vampire. A powerful one. It is extremely rare for a relationship between a human and a vampire to result in pregnancy, but it is even more rare for the child to survive. The fact that you lived to adulthood is a miracle.”

“You knew my father?” I pull my hands from his and miss the warmth immediately.

“Yes,” he says, taking a small step back to give me space. “He’s an old friend.”

The tears are gathering in my eyes now and I’m frustrated that I can’t hold them back. “If I were a vampire, how could I not know it?” I demand.

“Were you often sick as a child?” he asks. It feels like a non sequitur, and I just blink at him.

I was very sick as a child. I have Hemoglobin H disease. Now that I’m older it hardly impacts my life, but as a kid I needed regular blood transfusions. He’s implying it wasn’t a genetic disorder, but I needed the transfusions because I’m part vampire. I can feel the color draining from my face as the idea takes root in my mind.

“Let me walk you home.” It’s not a question. “I want to make sure you get there safely, and you clearly need time to accept what I’ve told you.”

“That’s it? Hey, you’re a bloodsucking monster and there are creatures out to kill you, have a nice night?”

“I know this all seems crazy, but I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“Right, look, you’re clearly some kind of stalker and if you don’t get away from me, I’m calling campus PD,” I say it as sternly as I can.

He stares at me without blinking for several seconds, then raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not sure what reaction I should have expected,” he says softly. “Please, consider what I’ve told you.” I reach into my purse and wrap my hand firmly around my mace. He makes a soft, annoyed sound and takes another step back. “Have it your way.” He seems to go hazy at the edges for a moment, then he’s gone.

I spin on my heels, looking behind me, but he isn’t there. I can’t see him anywhere. I keep my hand on the mace as I quickly walk out of the library and back to my dorm. By the time I have the door closed behind me, there are tears staining my cheeks and I’m shaking all over. I fall onto my bed and let myself cry, grateful that Cass isn’t home yet.