The Holloway house was not empty for long.When her nephew came to check that evening, he found her.
Or what was left of her.
The bedclothes were soaked through, clinging to the mattress like tar. Agnes's body had collapsed in on itself, the skin slack, the flesh pale and almost translucent. Her throat was a ruin: torn open, ragged as if something had ripped it apart with teeth too sharp to belong to any man. Blood painted the walls in long arcs, sprayed across the ceiling like a grotesque mural.
The nephew staggered back, choking on bile. His scream dragged the neighbors in. And when they saw, the silence that fell over them was not shock but recognition. Elmswick had seen death like this before. Long ago.
Someone whispered one word."Vampire."