Chapter 3
1329words
"She's approaching," Alaric murmured.
Cathy inhaled deeply, fingers poised above the keyboard.
Alaric's voice resonated in her mind: "Stay calm."
"How the hell am I supposed to stay calm?" Cathy mentally shouted back. "A psychotic vampire is coming to murder my client, and I'm just a broke writer with a laptop!"
"You have the power to reshape reality," Alaric's mental voice steadied. "And now, you have me as well."
A precise knock echoed from the door.
"Unexpectedly polite," Cathy muttered.
"Cathy, it's me." A female voice called through the door, honey-sweet as if addressing a child. "Sera, your group admin."
Cathy bit her lip, rose from her chair, and approached the door.
"Wait," Alaric warned.
"If I don't open it, she'll probably kick it down—which would be worse," Cathy whispered, then called out, "Just a second, I'm coming!"
She opened the door to find a woman far more striking than she'd appeared from the window.
Cascading golden hair framed delicate features, and her black coat alone probably cost more than Cathy's monthly rent. The silver box gleamed in her manicured hand, her smile flawlessly practiced.
"Cathy!" Seraphina exclaimed with practiced warmth. "Finally meeting face-to-face! You're even more adorable than your profile picture."
"...Thanks?" Cathy forced a smile. "You're sera?"
"Indeed." Seraphina glided into the apartment, her gaze methodically scanning the living room. When she spotted Alaric by the window, her smile widened predatorily. "Oh my, you have company?"
"Cousin." Alaric's voice could have frozen flame. "It's been a while."
"Cousin." Seraphina batted her eyelashes. "I thought you'd be avoiding me."
Cathy glanced between them, feigning surprise. "Wait, you two know each other?"
"More than mere acquaintances." Seraphina glided to the sofa and perched on it with balletic grace. "We're family. But Cathy, darling, aren't you going to offer your guest some refreshment?"
"Oh, right." Cathy moved woodenly toward the kitchen.
Alaric's voice resonated in her mind: "She's testing you, playing ignorant."
"I know!" Cathy mentally screamed. "But I'm not exactly trained in vampire espionage!"
She returned with a glass of water and offered it to Seraphina.
"Thank you." Seraphina accepted the glass but merely twirled it between her fingers. "Cathy, I've been following your work closely. Your recent material is absolutely captivating."
"Really?" Cathy laughed nervously. "That's very kind."
"Not at all." Seraphina leaned forward intently. "Especially that Crimson Scepter concept—I was genuinely stunned when I read it. How ever did you conceive such an idea?"
Cathy's throat constricted.
"Just... imagination," she managed. "That's what fiction is all about, right?"
"Imagination?" Seraphina savored the word. "What a charming way to describe it. Truly... imaginative."
She paused, turning abruptly to Alaric. "Cousin, are you familiar with this modern terminology?"
Alaric remained stone-faced. "I have no need for your contemporary vernacular."
"Oh my, cousin, how delightfully archaic you remain." Seraphina's laugh tinkled like breaking glass. "It's 2025, yet you're still mentally residing in the Dark Ages."
Cathy watched this exchange, struck by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Two ancient, terrifying vampires sitting in her cheap apartment that barely cost $1,200 a month, debating modern slang???
Alaric's voice echoed in her mind: "She's better integrated into modern society than I am. That's problematic."
"You're just figuring this out now?" Cathy mentally retorted.
Seraphina delicately placed the untouched water on the coffee table. "Cathy, I'm here to propose a collaboration."
"What sort of collaboration?"
"I'd like to commission you to write something." Seraphina's smile never reached her eyes. "Similar to your previous work, but... more detailed."
"More detailed?"
"Indeed." Seraphina extracted a folded paper from her designer purse and extended it to Cathy. "For instance, could you elaborate on how to activate the Crimson Scepter? What ritual is necessary? Where would be the optimal location for its use?"
Cathy accepted the paper with trembling fingers, wilting under Seraphina's predatory gaze.
The questions listed plainly revealed her murderous intentions toward Alaric.
"This..." She looked up, feigning confusion while her heart hammered. "I'm just a mediocre web novelist. My skills aren't nearly advanced enough for this kind of..."
"I'm well aware of your limited literary talents." Seraphina cut her off. "But Cathy, your stories contain uncanny accuracies. So precise that I suspect you possess certain... gifts."
She rose and glided toward Cathy, towering over her with predatory grace.
"Perhaps you could demonstrate this gift now?" Seraphina suggested with a razor-edged smile. "Something simple, like..."
She paused thoughtfully.
"Where will I be tomorrow at three o'clock?"
Cathy froze.
"I... how could I possibly know that?"
"You could guess." Seraphina tilted her head, bird-like. "Or should I say... prophesy?"
Cathy glanced at Alaric. His face remained impassive, but she sensed his mounting tension.
"Write," Alaric's voice commanded in her mind. "Write that she'll be in the underground chamber of Ashford Manor."
Cathy bit her lip and moved to her computer.
She opened a blank document and positioned her fingers over the keys.
"Tomorrow at three in the afternoon," she typed, reading aloud, "Seraphina will be at..."
She hesitated.
If she wrote correctly, Seraphina would confirm her abilities and force her to write more prophecies.
But if she wrote incorrectly, Seraphina might dismiss her as useless and attack immediately. Any injury to her would affect Alaric through their bond—and she wasn't sure how much Seraphina already knew.
Both options were disastrous.
"Why have you stopped?" Seraphina inquired from behind her.
"I'm thinking," Cathy replied.
"About what?"
"About your possible whereabouts." Cathy took a steadying breath. "A sophisticated lady like yourself must have quite the busy schedule."
"Then why not hazard a guess?" Seraphina suggested playfully. "Let's make this... a game, shall we?"
Cathy stared at the blinking cursor.
Suddenly, she began typing.
"Tomorrow at 3 PM, Seraphina will be at Starbucks."
After typing this sentence, she hit Enter.
The room fell silent for three heartbeats.
Then Seraphina erupted in laughter.
"Starbucks?" She doubled over, shoulders shaking. "Oh Cathy, you precious thing. You know what I am, yet you suggest that I—a vampire—would patronize Starbucks for coffee?"
"Aren't you the modern, adaptable one?" Cathy replied defiantly. "Starbucks is quite fashionable these days."
"Indeed it is," Seraphina dabbed at mock tears. "But Cathy, this prediction of yours..."
She paused, something calculating flashing in her eyes.
"Never mind." She waved dismissively. "Perhaps it truly is mere coincidence."
She turned toward the door, glancing back over her shoulder.
"Cathy, do consider my list of questions." She purred. "The blood moon approaches, and I expect satisfactory answers by then."
She fixed Alaric with an undisguised challenge: "Cousin, until we meet again."
With that, she glided out, the door clicking shut behind her.
The moment the door closed, Cathy collapsed into her chair.
"Did I screw up?" she asked weakly.
"I'm not certain." Alaric approached her. "But your choice was strategic."
"How so?"
"Had you written the correct location, she would have immediately exploited you." Alaric explained. "Had you written something completely implausible, she would have grown suspicious. Starbucks is neither accurate nor entirely impossible."
"So I made the right call?"
"Not necessarily." Alaric shook his head grimly. "But at minimum, you're still breathing."
Cathy glanced at the list of questions and suddenly noticed a card tucked beneath the paper.
She picked it up.
It was a Starbucks rewards card.
On the back, in flowing calligraphy, was written:
"Tomorrow, 3 PM, People's Square location. Be punctual. —S"
Cathy stared in disbelief.
"She..." She turned to Alaric, eyes wide. "Is she actually going to Starbucks tomorrow?"
Alaric stared at the card, the color draining from his face.
"We've both misunderstood," he said quietly. "Your gift isn't prophecy, nor is it altering existing reality. Your power is that you shape reality itself—and we exist within your creation."
A chill crawled up Cathy's spine.
She'd pulled that location from thin air.
How could it possibly...
"My God," she whispered. "My writing actually determines people's fates."
Outside the window, darkness deepened.
One day remained until the blood moon.
