In that instant, my brain, naturally, decided now was the time to collapse in on itself like a house of cards in a stiff wind.
Just as I feared, she was a vampire.
Not in the metaphorical sense. Not in the "oh, what a fancy moniker for a cruel noblewoman" sense. No. She was a literal vampire.
One of the three "extinct" races right up there with leviathans and the draconic folk like Vincent, filed away in the big dusty cabinet of Things That Shouldn't Exist Anymore But Definitely Gave People Nightmares Once.
This wasn't just rare, this wasn't just unlikely—this was a full-blown violation of the way the world was supposed to work. Reality was a sweater, and someone had just yanked a thread so hard it was unraveling across my lap.
And the truly maddening part? My first thought wasn't, oh no, impossible monster. It was, dear gods, she's going to ruin her dress with all that blood.
My lips moved before my brain could wrestle them back into submission. "You're...a vampire?"
