I woke up hours later in an unfamiliar bed. For a moment I couldn’t remember what had happened; my brain felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. My head hurt, too. A pounding, rhythmic ache. And I felt so weak and exhausted—as if I’d been hit by a truck or something. And then there was the ache at my wrist…

I shot up in bed, my eyes dropping to my arm. To the small cut, framed by large bite marks.

Fang marks.

My heart pounded in my chest as the memories of the night before flooded back to me. It felt like a nightmare, like a dream I was waking from. But the marks on my wrist told me it was all too real.

I looked around the room, wondering where I was. Where Logan had taken me. I remember him taking flight. (Taking FLIGHT!) I remembered resting my head on his chest. Breathing in his rich, dark scent. Listening for his heartbeat before remembering that, as a vampire, he wouldn’t have one. After that I must have passed out.

My first observation was that the room was empty. Logan the vampire was nowhere to be found. My second observation was of the sun, streaming through a large window. It was daylight. The time all good vampires must go to bed.

The room itself was luxurious. The bed ridiculously soft and the sheets and duvet were crisp and clean. And there were understated, elegant furnishings, like what one might find in a model home. Unlike the crimson coated Club Fang this room was done up in light blues and soft grays. About as un-vampire as you could get—if you believed the clichés.

Ugh.

I groaned, rubbing my head with my hands. So I guess I had to really go with this now. The realization that this whole vampire thing was the real deal. After all, how could I argue otherwise? I’d seen a man’s face burn after being marked by a crucifix. I watched him being staked through the heart and poofed into dust. And then there was the flying thing. That was a tough one to explain without first accepting the paranormal nature of the flyer in question.

I shook my head, trying to still my rapid heartbeat. The last thing I needed right now was to panic. I had to figure out where I was and how I would get home. How I could return to normal life and leave all this crazy behind.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed and slipped to the floor. My toes sank into the plush carpet and for a moment I just stood there, trying to steady myself. I could definitely tell I’d lost quite a bit of blood the night before.

It was then that I noticed I wasn’t wearing my old clothes. The itchy, uncomfortable long-sleeve dress I had donned the night before was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I was wearing a soft gray t-shirt that was so large it fell to my knees and a pair of plaid pajama pants. I looked around the room again, trying to locate any of my belongings, but saw nothing I recognized. Awesome.

I headed to the door, figuring maybe he’d left my stuff outside. Maybe my dress had blood on it and he threw it in the wash. It should have been dry-cleaned, of course, but I wasn’t about to quibble over dress laundering right now. Not when Logan had literally saved my life.

I at least needed to find my phone. To call Darla and let her know I was okay. After that, I could figure out the rest.

My hand wrapped around the doorknob. I tried to turn it. But it held fast. It was then that I noticed the keyhole just below.

Oh no.

Panic seized me with icy fingers. I ran to the room’s window, trying to yank it open. But it seemed to be painted shut. I looked around the room, desperate to find something that would allow me to break the glass—like you always see people in movies do when they’re trapped. But then I noticed the iron bars just outside the window. Even if I did manage to break glass, I wasn’t going anywhere.

I was trapped.

In the house of a real life vampire.

I sank down to the carpet, tears welling in my eyes. Why did he lock me in? Was he going to make me his prisoner? How long would he keep me? Was the only reason he saved me last night because I was on tonight’s menu?

I felt the blood pulse in my arm, desperate to be unleashed. I looked around the room again, for something I could use as a blade. I needed relief—even just a moment’s relief from the panic spiraling through me. Scrambling to my feet, I searched the room. Emptying drawers, looking under the bed. Hoping for something—anything—that might work in a pinch.

It was then that I found the note.

---

---

I crumpled the note in my hand and threw it across the room, anxiety and nausea welling up inside of me. At least I knew he wasn’t planning on saving me for a midnight snack, I supposed. But the thought didn’t make me feel all that much better. I was still stuck here. Still trapped. Still under the grip of a deadly creature of the night.

For a while I just sat there, staring at the wall, wondering what I should do. But eventually the overwhelming fear settled to a dull ache and I found myself less frightened and more bored. Also hungry. I scrambled to my feet and headed over to the closet to investigate the minibar situation. As promised it was filled with various snacks and sodas. I popped open a Diet Coke and took a sip. Then I grabbed a can of Pringles and sat down in front of the laptop.

I turned it on, at first holding out hope it might have some sort of Wi-Fi. But, of course, it was password protected. I tried a few half-hearted attempts at guessing the password, but eventually just signed into Microsoft Word. Judging from the position of the sun in the sky I had many hours to wait in this room. And writing was the only thing that would help pass the time.

“Okay Jonathan,” I whispered to the blank page. “Let’s do this.”