Chapter 2
2540words
Cathy tried to speak, but a metallic taste flooded her throat. Her head swam as darkness crept into the edges of her vision.
"Cathy?" Claude knocked again, harder this time. "Are you there?"
Alaric glanced at Cathy's ashen face, momentary indecision flickering in his eyes.
Then he made his choice.
He swept Cathy into his arms, dissolved into shadow, and vanished from the living room.
They materialized inside her bedroom closet.
In the cramped space, they pressed against each other. Cathy's nose still bled freely, her body sagging against Alaric's chest.
"What's happening to you?" Alaric frowned, dabbing at the blood with his handkerchief.
"I don't know," Cathy whispered. "After writing that 'prophecy,' I just..."
She fell silent as the unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock echoed from the front door.
How did Claude have a key to her apartment?
This couldn't be happening. She guarded her privacy zealously—he was just her editor, for God's sake, and yet...
"He's inside." Alaric's voice turned glacial. "That editor of yours is no ordinary man."
Cathy fought to remain conscious. Through the sliver between the closet doors, she watched Claude stride into the living room, scanning the space methodically.
His right hand remained buried in his coat pocket, clearly gripping something.
"Cathy," Claude called out, his voice deceptively gentle, "I know you're home, and I know there's a 'thing' with you."
Cathy's heart hammered against her ribs.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Claude continued. "But that creature must leave. You have no idea what you're dealing with."
Alaric's arm tightened around her, pulling her deeper into his protective embrace.
"He will kill you." Claude's voice cracked with emotion. "Maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually. It's in their nature!"
Cathy tried to speak, but Alaric pressed his hand firmly over her mouth.
Claude stood motionless in the living room for what felt like eternity.
Finally, he exhaled heavily.
"Your computer's still on," he said. "I saw what you were writing. The Crimson Scepter, Cathy—how do you know that name?"
Cathy froze.
"Doesn't matter." Claude muttered to himself. "Seems my report was accurate. You do have some kind of gift."
He turned toward the door, pausing to deliver one final warning.
"The blood moon rises in three days. Hunters across the city and their vampire allies will be on the move. Cathy, if you want to live, stay away from that vampire."
The door slammed shut, his footsteps fading down the hallway.
Cathy finally lost her battle for control and coughed a mouthful of blood onto Alaric's shoulder.
"Damn it." Alaric hissed, carrying her from the closet to the bed. "You've drained yourself too deeply."
"Drained what?" Cathy mumbled weakly.
"I didn't anticipate this—prophecies exact a toll." Alaric removed his coat and draped it over her, hesitation and regret flashing across his face. "That passage you wrote predicted Seraphina's plans, but it also drained your life force."
"Life force?" Cathy's eyes widened. "Am I dying? But I've never experienced anything like this when writing before."
"It's likely because I appeared—the world that was once fiction to you has become reality. Your prophecies now draw from actual fate, requiring far more energy."
"You won't die," Alaric added after a pause. "But if this continues, you'll grow progressively weaker. Unless..."
He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to suggest.
"Unless what?"
"Unless I replenish your energy." Alaric turned away, avoiding her gaze. "In the manner of my kind."
Cathy stared blankly for a moment before understanding dawned.
"You mean... drinking my blood?"
"Not drinking." Alaric corrected sharply, the tips of his ears reddening. "A blood exchange. I give you some of my blood to temporarily sustain your life force."
"Isn't that still basically vampirism?!"
"It's completely different!" Alaric's composure cracked. "Blood drinking is predatory. A blood exchange is... is..."
"Is what?"
"It's a covenant." Alaric took a steadying breath. "Once we exchange blood, a connection forms between us. I'll sense your condition; you'll sense my emotions. This bond will endure until..."
"Until what?"
"Until one of us dies."
Cathy fell silent. The room grew deathly still.
Finally, she spoke: "So either I slowly waste away, or we're bound together for life?"
"...Yes." Alaric's voice softened. "I know this is unfair to you. If you refuse, I can send you somewhere safe, far from all this."
Cathy studied his face.
The usually stoic vampire stood with his back to her, shoulders rigid, clearly bracing for rejection.
She surprised herself by smiling.
"You know what?" she said. "I've been writing for three years, created dozens of male leads, but none of them are half as interesting as you."
Alaric turned, genuine surprise flickering in his eyes.
"So." Cathy extended her hand. "Let's do this. A blood covenant sounds pretty badass anyway."
Alaric stared at her outstretched hand, frozen in place.
"Are you certain?" he asked. "Once done, this cannot be undone."
"I'm sure." Cathy nodded firmly. "I'm just a struggling writer—not much to lose anyway."
Alaric finally reached out and clasped her hand.
His hand was cold as marble but his grip reassuringly firm.
"Then," he said softly, "permit me to perform this ancient rite."
He bowed his head and sank his fangs gently into her wrist.
Cathy trembled—not from pain, but from the sudden rush of warmth flooding through her veins.
The sensation was alien yet oddly comforting—something flowing through her bloodstream, warm and strangely intimate.
Then she heard Alaric's voice.
Not through her ears, but directly in her mind.
"Can you hear my thoughts?"
Cathy's eyes widened in shock as she attempted to respond mentally: "Yes."
Alaric released her wrist—the twin puncture marks already fading to nothing.
"The covenant is complete," he said, his eyes swirling with complex emotions. "From this moment, between us, there can be no secrets."
Cathy felt vitality flowing back into her limbs. She sat up and examined her wrist.
"So am I a vampire now?"
"No, you remain human," Alaric explained. "But you now possess some of our regenerative abilities. And..."
He hesitated briefly.
"And if I'm wounded, you'll feel my pain. And vice versa."
"...So this is basically a two-for-one pain subscription?" Cathy laughed despite herself.
"Something like that."
Cathy flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Fine," she sighed. "My life's already weird as hell—what's a little telepathy on top of everything else?"
She turned her head to look at Alaric.
"So you said the blood moon rises in three days?"
"Yes," Alaric nodded grimly. "That's when Seraphina will strike. And your editor will likely make his move as well."
"So we have just three days."
"Indeed."
Cathy fell silent, then abruptly sat bolt upright.
"Then I need to keep writing," she declared. "If I can predict Seraphina's plans, I can also predict her weaknesses."
"But your condition..."
"That's what I have you for, right?" Cathy cut him off. "We're bound now—you can juice me up whenever, Mr. Walking Battery Pack."
She strode to her computer and opened a fresh document.
"Come on, Mr. Alaric," she cracked her knuckles. "Tell me everything about this Crimson Scepter. I'm going to write an outline that exposes all your cousin's dirty little secrets."
Alaric watched her, a rare glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"As you wish, my prophet."
Cathy stared at the 5,000-word outline on her screen. Before she could type a single character, her phone buzzed.
A group chat notification.
"Wait." Alaric leaned over her shoulder, staring at her phone. "What is this?"
"A group chat," Cathy replied casually. "My reader community."
"Group chat?" Alaric's brow furrowed.
"...It's where multiple people converse online." Cathy explained. "Think of it as a virtual salon, I guess?"
"Ah." Alaric nodded. "Like a nobleman's gathering, but without physical presence."
Cathy ignored his antiquated comparison and opened the message.
The message was from "Little Fairy sera."
【Little Fairy sera】: Cathy, your recent updates are absolutely brilliant! Especially that Crimson Scepter concept—gave me chills! 👏👏👏
Cathy froze.
"Wait," she said. "I haven't published any of this yet."
"What do you mean?" Alaric asked.
"I mean, this outline is still just sitting on my hard drive—it's not even a finished chapter, let alone published online." Cathy felt ice crawling up her spine. "How does she know what I wrote?"
Alaric's expression darkened. "She can monitor specific targets, but with her current abilities, she can only maintain surveillance for thirty minutes at most... Let me see this conversation."
Cathy handed him her phone.
Alaric studied the screen, his frown deepening.
Then he pointed at an emoji. "What is this yellow circle?"
"...That's a clapping hands emoji."
"Why is it depicted as hands striking together? Is this some form of incantation?"
"No! It just means applause or approval!" Cathy threw up her hands. "Dude, can you focus on the actual problem here?"
"I am focusing." Alaric replied with grave intensity. "She sent three of these symbols. In ancient symbology, a trinity represents..."
"It doesn't represent anything!" Cathy snatched back her phone. "They're emojis—digital symbols modern humans use to express emotions!"
Alaric fell silent for a moment.
"Why not simply write 'I applaud you' instead of using these... pictographs?"
Cathy inhaled deeply, counting to ten in her head.
"Never mind." She scrolled through the chat history. "I need to see what this 'sera' person said before."
She scrolled back three months to the first message.
【Fairy sera】: Cathy, the premise for your new story is fascinating! A male lead from an ancient European vampire bloodline—such a fresh take! ❤️
Cathy remembered this message. She'd been struggling with her protagonist's background, and sera's suggestion had sparked her imagination.
She continued scrolling.
【Little Fairy sera】：I think your male lead should have shadow manipulation powers—both aesthetically cool and tactically useful! Absolute GOAT!
"GOAT?" Alaric leaned closer. "Some kind of animal reference?"
"Greatest Of All Time," Cathy answered distractedly.
"What?" Alaric looked appalled. "Humans bestow such titles so casually?"
"It's just internet slang!"
"That's blasphemous," Alaric said gravely. "Such casual invocation of divinity would merit ecclesiastical trial in my day."
"It's the 21st century!" Cathy started to snap, then suddenly froze. "Can you stop thinking like it's the Middle Ages... wait."
She stared at the screen, her blood running cold.
【Little Fairy sera】：The villain's motivation should be coveting inheritance rights—much more logical~
【Little Fairy sera】：I suggest making silver the protagonist's weakness—it's a classic trope!
【Little Fairy sera】：How about adding a blood moon ritual? Would create such amazing atmosphere!
Cathy's hands began to tremble.
"She's been guiding me from the start," she whispered. "Since the very first day I began this story, she's been steering me, yet I barely noticed her presence."
Alaric took the phone and rapidly scanned through the chat history.
"This 'sera' person," he said. "What position does she hold in your group?"
"Group administrator," Cathy replied numbly.
"Administrator." Alaric nodded. "So she governs this virtual domain?"
"More or less. She volunteers to manage spam, remove troublemakers..." Cathy suddenly realized something. "Wait, how do you know what a group administrator does?"
"You mentioned 'manage,'" Alaric replied simply. "Ashford Manor employs a steward who manages the servants and daily operations. Though our steward is paid, the function seems comparable."
"...These are completely different concepts."
The phone buzzed again.
[Fairy sera]: Why so quiet, Cathy? Planning the next chapter? I'm dying to read it~
Cathy stared at the message, a sudden realization dawning.
"Alaric," she said slowly. "What's Seraphina's full name?"
"Seraphina Elara Ashford," Alaric answered. "Why?"
"Sera." Cathy pointed at the screen name. "It's short for Seraphina."
Alaric's expression transformed instantly.
"Are you suggesting..."
"Your cousin infiltrated my reader community months ago, posed as a fan, worked her way up to administrator," Cathy's voice grew increasingly unsteady. "Then systematically guided me to write exactly what she needed."
Alaric strode to the window, his posture rigid.
"She's monitoring you," he said grimly. "Not just online. Perhaps you should leave the group immediately?"
The moment he finished speaking, the phone buzzed again.
【Fairy sera】: No need to leave the group so hastily. Let's meet face-to-face? I'm downstairs. [Location]
Cathy's heart lurched in her chest.
Alaric peered out the window.
Under the streetlight stood an elegant blonde woman in a black coat, carrying a silver box.
She looked up and waved, a predatory smile on her face.
"That's her," Alaric's voice turned to ice. "Seraphina."
Cathy rushed to the window.
The woman below sent another message.
【Fairy sera】: Won't you invite me up? I brought you a present. [Photo of gift box]
In the photo, the silver box's lid was partially open, revealing intricate patterns etched into its inner walls.
Alaric studied the photo, his pupils contracting to pinpoints.
"Those are binding runes," he hissed, "specifically designed to neutralize Ashford blood. She's truly allied herself with the hunters."
"She wants to trap you?"
"If she truly possesses the Crimson Scepter, combined with these runes..." Alaric inhaled sharply. "My death would be certain."
Cathy bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
"Should we run?" she whispered. "Right now?"
"We can't escape." Alaric shook his head grimly. "If she's bold enough to approach directly, she's already set her trap. Knowing her, she'll have agents covering a three-kilometer radius."
"Then what do we do?"
Alaric fell silent.
Cathy studied him, a strange calm settling over her.
"I have an idea," she said.
"What idea?"
"I can write." Cathy returned to her computer. "If I can predict her plans, I can also predict her weaknesses."
"But your condition might..."
"That's what you're for, isn't it?" Cathy cut him off. "We're bound now—you keep me alive, and I give you the edge you need."
She sat down, positioning her cursor at the point where she'd been interrupted.
"Come on, Mr. Alaric, tell me everything about these binding runes."
Alaric watched her, a storm of emotions playing across his features.
"You should write 'Seraphina fails due to her hubris,'" he suggested. "That aligns with classical tragedy structure—Aristotle's Poetics dictates that—"
"Dude." Cathy didn't look up. "This is a power fantasy, not a Greek tragedy."
"Power fantasy?"
"It's where the protagonist has overpowered abilities and humiliates all the bad guys," Cathy's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Just tell me her weaknesses—the more specific, the better."
Alaric paused thoughtfully.
"She is indeed overconfident," he said finally. "So confident that she'll personally come to verify your prophetic abilities."
"And then?"
"Then she'll find ways to control you, using your abilities to help consolidate her power after the coup."
"So she won't kill me immediately?"
"No. At least not until she's confirmed your value."
Cathy stopped typing and swiveled to face him.
"That makes things easier," she said, a slightly manic gleam in her eyes. "We'll play along, let her come up, and then..."
She paused dramatically.
"Then I'll write her death scene right in front of her face."
Alaric stared at her in disbelief.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Maybe," Cathy shrugged. "Got a better plan?"
Downstairs, Seraphina pocketed her phone and strode into the building, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
Her lips curved into a predatory smile.
Third floor, her little pet awaited.
She would claim her prize soon enough.
