The notes of Aria Sparks’ song echoed through the room of the nursing home. Her elderly charges looked up at her with rapt attention and soft smiles on their faces. She knew how her singing affected them. Every day, they got just a little bit better.

When Constance Reed had arrived, her dementia was so bad, she didn't even remember her own name. Now she recognized Aria and the other orderlies, doctors, and nurses when they came in the room.

Fred Hollister's emphysema had made it necessary for him to carry a tank around with him everywhere he went six months ago. But now he used his oxygen less and less. She let the last notes of her song drift off into silence and everyone clapped. She smiled at them and did a little curtsy.

“Thank you all so much,” she said, picking up her mop. “It's almost time for me to be done for the day. I'll see you all tomorrow.”

She took the mop and the mop bucket and pushed it back to the closet. She tidied everything up and put it all away. After removing her smock and changing back into her street clothes, she waved at the night nurse on the way out.

Aria strode into the parking lot, a song in her heart. She loved working her magic on the old folks. She helped people in whatever little way she could.

The air was cool with the scent of rain. A haze of clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring the stars and the moon. She clicked her car keys and her back lights flashed as she made her way through the darkened parking lot. This was always the time of night that made her most uncomfortable. She knew the old folks’ home was safe, but there was always that small shred of fear at the base of her belly whenever she had to walk alone at night.

As she made it to her car, a dark figure walked out from between the vehicles and approached her. She gulped down her fear and slid her keys between her fingers like she'd been taught in self-defense class.

“Where are you going?” said the man.

“I'm on my way home,” she said, exhausted from a long day of work.

“I don't think that will be happening,” he said with a laugh.

“If you touch me, I’ll scream. Security will be out here in less than five seconds. You won't get away with hurting me.”

“Oh, but I think we will.”

Another half dozen dark clothed men appeared from behind the cars and surrounded her. Before she could scream, they grabbed her and evaporated, taking her with them. Her scream was lost in the void as they charged down a tunnel of darkness. Concentric circles throbbed past as they moved faster than the speed of light and came out the other end.

She stood on solid ground, her scream still aching in her throat. She was surrounded by a forest, and there was a large mansion in the distance. She screamed again, but the men holding her just laughed at her.

“No one will hear you out here,” they said. “Scream all you want.”

“Make her shut up. It's hurting my ears,” said another one.

One of the men placed a piece of tape over her mouth, and they tugged her roughly through the manicured lawns of the mansion and into the building. She gasped at the sight of the fancy-dressed people in a garish living room.

There were dozens of them, dressed in red and black evening clothes. They were beautiful but had a cold, cunning look about them. It reminded her of serial killers in nighttime TV shows. The men tugged her up the stairs. She screamed under the tape over her mouth, but no sound came out.

“This Dragon Soul is powerful,” said one of her kidnappers.

As they climbed the stairs, a man in a black pinstripe suit came down. He seemed more imposing than the others. He had gold rings on his fingers and held a glass of red liquid.

“We've been tracking her for quite some time,” said one of her captors. “She has magic.”

“Her blood sings with power,” the man in the suit said, sniffing the air.

His lips smacked with hunger. Aria recoiled at the sound, but the other men held her fast.

“Take her to the tower. And make sure our wards are stronger. Now that the dragons have awakened we must up our game.”

“Yes, Victor,” they said.

The thugs in the hoodies and skinny jeans tugged her up the stairs and shoved her into a room, closing the door behind her. She turned and beat her fists against the door. But it was no use. The door was locked shut and there was no escape. She pulled the tape off, pulling tiny hairs and the top layer of skin from her mouth. She covered the throbbing wound with her hand as a tear slid down her cheek.

Turning, she inspected the room she found herself in. It was a circular tower with one tiny window, a small bed in one corner, and a desk in the other. The room was freezing cold, wind whipping through the narrow window.

“Where the hell am I?” she said, walking into the center of the room.

These strange people didn’t seem human. But to believe they were what they appeared to be? It was preposterous. Vampires didn't exist in the real world, just TV shows and fantasy novels. She sank down on the bed, rubbing her wrists where they had gripped her.

She looked down at her hands and clenched her fists. The men knew about her healing power. That's why they’d taken her. Her ability to heal the sick with her song had always been her secret. She’d always used it carefully, so no one would notice. But these men, these people, whoever they were, they'd been stalking her and watching her. They had noticed. And now they wanted her blood. She curled up in the tiny bed and cried herself to sleep.