The cemetery stretched wide and hollow, rows of stone. I stood among them, the crimson knife heavy in my hand, waiting for night to drop.
The air smelled of damp soil and wilted flowers. Every gust rattled the dead leaves, whispering like voices that had no mouths. I tightened my grip, forcing my breath to be steady.
This was where they rose. I figured if I wanted to get stronger like her, I needed to train, so why not test this knife in the first place? I was helpless and scared. Where the ground split and nightmares clawed their way into the world.
I needed to be ready.
I swung the knife through the air, clumsy at first, then sharper, faster. Each motion carved against the silence, my muscles burning, sweat stinging my eyes. I imagined fangs snapping, claws reaching, shadows lunging. I fought them all in my mind, every strike a promise: I won't be helpless again.
The sun sagged lower, bleeding into the horizon. Shadows stretched long across the graves, swallowing names etched in stone.
pressing the blade grip. "Come on," I muttered, jaw tight. "Rise already."
The clock in my head ticked louder with every minute. Sorry, Mom, I guess I'm going to be late tonight. This is my chance to turn fear into steel.
But the graves stayed still. No clawing hands, no breaking earth. Just silence.
I lowered the blade, chest heaving. "Come on,"
The sun had bled out, shadows swallowing the stones. I braced myself for the first stir of dirt—
But nothing moved.
No, the scrape of nails against coffin wood. No hiss of a vampire breaking free.
Minutes dragged into hours. The silence pressed harder, heavy as the tombstones around me.
The silence grew louder, like the whole cemetery was holding its breath. My pulse thudded against my ribs, each beat mocking me. I'd come here to fight, to prove I wasn't helpless. But the dead refused to rise.
Then it came.
A crash.
Metal against metal, sharp and violent, shattering the quiet. It echoed from beyond the cemetery gates, rolling through the night like thunder trapped in steel.
I froze, knife tight in my grip.
The silence after was worse than the noise itself, heavy and waiting.
I rose slowly, gravel crunching under my boots as I turned toward the iron gates. My breath caught, the knife burning against my ribs.
The dead hadn't risen. But something had broken the night.
I shoved the gate open, gravel crunching under my boots.
A bus loomed in the street, its frame twisted against a pole, windows shattered. Sparks hissed from broken wires, painting the wreck in stuttering light.
Figures swarmed the wreckage—pale, hungry, their faces smeared with blood. Vampires.
They dragged passengers from the seats, fangs sinking deep, screams cutting sharp before choking into silence.
My breath caught.
The note on the fridge is burned in my memory—I took the bus.
Mom.
The word slammed into me, harder than the crash itself. My chest tightened, the knife trembling in my grip. Every shadowed figure inside the bus could be her. Every scream could be hers.
I charged toward the crash, heart hammering, torn between terror and resolve. The crimson blade pressed against my ribs, heavier than ever.
The vampires fed with savage rhythm, tearing into flesh, their growls echoing through the street. I scanned the faces, desperate for a glimpse of hers, terrified of finding it.
The silence of the cemetery had mocked me. Now the night roared with violence.
I'd come here to train, to wait for the dead to rise. Instead, the dead had found me.
I tightened my grip on the knife. "MOM…" I screamed.
With one thought, one desperate prayer: Please don't let her be here. The vampires' heads snapped toward me, eyes glowing in the flicker of broken lights. Their growls rolled low, hungry, and ready.
I lunged, knife flashing crimson. Both hands clenched the grip as I drove the blade into his chest. The vampire shrieked, staggering, claws snapping as he grabbed my wrists. With a violent scritch, he wrenched me off balance, the knife tearing free as he hurled me to the pavement.
I hit the ground. Pain exploded through my ribs, blood filling my mouth. For a heartbeat I couldn't breathe. But the knife was still in my hand. I forced myself up, swaying, vision blurring. Dammit—I missed his heart.
A blur of movement—he was already on me, claws slicing wildly. I ducked, boots skidding on broken glass, and I thrust upward with everything I had. Steel sank deep this time, straight into his heart.
The vampire convulsed, shrieked, and collapsed. Dust scattered across the pavement, vanishing into the night.
My chest heaved. I did it—my first kill. Another hiss ripped from the shadows. A second vampire leapt, claws flashing. I spun, the knife catching its arm. Pain jolted down mine as its strike grazed my shoulder. Panic roared through me. I shoved hard, my boot slamming into its ribs, kicking it back against the bus.
Inside, the bus was silent. My gaze flicked desperately—"Mom?"—but there was no response noting.
The vampires outside circled tighter, growls echoing, eyes glowing in the stuttering light. Inside, more of them crawled through the broken windows, dragging victims out into the street.
I can't; I can't defeat them all. What do I do? I wasn't prepared for this. But if she was in that bus, hesitation wasn't an option.
I clenched the knife, forcing my legs forward, every step pounding with one thought: Get inside. Find her.
Then a sound cut through the chaos.
Clapping.
Slow, deliberate, mocking.
The vampires stilled, their snarls fading into silence. From behind them, a figure stepped forward, pale and poised, her smile sharp as a blade.
Blonde hair caught the flicker of broken lights, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. She moved with the calm of someone who owned the night.
"Bravo, my little boy," she purred, her voice smooth as silk. "You're fighting to the end. How precise."
She stood behind the pack, their bodies forming a wall between us, her clapping echoing like a cruel applause.
"You've got spirit," she said, tilting her head, gaze pinning me in place. "But spirit doesn't keep you alive. Not against me."
The knife burned against my ribs. My pulse hammered.
She clapped once more, softer now, almost playful. "So what are you doing in here, little boy? You're not a slayer."
The vampires shifted, their bodies forming a wall between me and the bus. My back pressed against the twisted frame, the knife in my grip.
"Answer me," she asked, her voice dripping with fear. "You're not a Slayer. You don't belong in this fight."
My throat tightened, blood still hot in my mouth. "Get away from the bus," I rasped, forcing the words past the pain. "My mom is in there."
Her laugh was soft, almost musical. "Oh, how sweet. Protecting his mommy. If only my angel were more like you?" Her eyes gleamed, catching the flicker of broken lights. "So what do we do now?"
The knife trembled in my hand. My pulse hammered.
"You think you can save your mom?" she tilted her head, her gaze sharp as a blade. "One kill doesn't make you a savior. It makes you prey that got lucky."
I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to stay planted. "If any of you monsters touched my mom, I swear I will kill you all."
Her smile sharpened, fangs glinting. "Such spirit. But spirit burns out quickly." She stepped closer, the vampires parting around her like shadows obeying the night.
"You're not a Slayer," she whispered, her voice curling around me like smoke. "You're just a boy with a knife. And boys with knives bleed."
The vampires growled low, waiting for her command.
I tightened my grip, chest heaving, every nerve screaming.
A voice rang out from inside the bus:
"Ms. Darla! We've got the Anointed One!"
Darla.
Her name froze me.
The vampires surged, dragging a boy from the shattered bus. His small frame twisted in their grip, heels scraping against broken glass. His cries cut sharp through the night, desperate, terrified.
"Please—no!" His voice cracked, echoing against the wreckage.
I couldn't move a muscle as I watched him thrown into Darla's waiting grasp.
Darla's smile widened. "Well," she purred, her voice curling like smoke, "isn't this a delightful surprise? " The night keeps giving."
Her gaze flicked to me, sharp and mocking. "You've got luck, little boy. But you're not the prize tonight."
The vampires shifted, restless, but her command held them back. They turned toward the bus, dragging the boy out, their hunger now focused on him.
Darla lingered, her smile cruel and certain. She tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Go on then," she whispered, almost tender. "Step inside the bus. Look for your mother's corpse."
as they turned and walked until The night swallowed them—the vampires melting into the dark, Darla's laughter trailing like smoke. The boy was gone, clutched in her hand, and I was left broken and bloodied, standing outside the wreck.
Her words echoed in my skull: Look for your mother's corpse.
And I was left alone. I started to regain control of my legs, broken and bloodied, standing outside the shattered bus, the silence pressing in.
I climbed inside.
The stench hit me first—iron and smoke, blood soaked into the seats. Glass crunched under my boots. Shadows stretched long across the aisle, broken by the flicker of dying lights.
Bodies slumped in their seats, twisted, lifeless. Some were torn open, others pale and drained, eyes staring at nothing.
My chest seized. Mom?
I staggered down the aisle, knife still slick in my grip, scanning every face. Each one blurred, drowned in terror. My breath came ragged, my heart beating louder than the silence.
A sob tore out of me before I could stop it. My vision blurred, tears burning hot. The thought clawed at me—she's here; she's dead. Darla was right.
Then I saw her.
Her body slumped against the window, hair tangled, blood streaking her neck. My pulse spiked, my vision swimming. I dropped to my knees, glass biting into my skin. "Belis, God no, no, why her?"
Her chest rose—shallow, weak, but breathing.
Tears burned hot, spilling down my face. Relief hit sharp, poisoned by horror. A bite marked her neck, crimson and raw.
The bite glared back at me, a wound that meant something worse than death.
"Mom…" My voice cracked, breaking.
She stirred faintly, lips parting, eyes fluttering open. Pain clouded her gaze, confusion flickering.
I reached for her hand, trembling. "I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going to let you go."