On the eve of September 17th, 2026, I, The Vampire ARDETTE, was approached by a haggared young woman who was cradling a leather book wrapped in string. Now, I’ve been approached by such fans before and I was ready to vanish into thin air, but there was something in her eyes that arrested me completely.
“I am a fellow vampire!” She yelped as if the words were fleeing from her throat prison.
This was something new; usually my lovely lunatics thought too low of themselves to claim such a thing. I peered into her eyes once more, this time expending a smidgen of essence to enhance my senses. She was in fact not a vampire. Only two lights per eye. A witch?
“You are not, my lovely,” I tried to let her down easy. A curse would prove most bothersome.
“But I can read your eyes!”
It was rare to find a witch who was so brazen and apparently untrained. Their four souls are hereditary, so either this was an orphaned witch or was part of a branch of unfortunate spirit speakers that had lost their hearts to evangelists.
“You mustn’t speak so loud, my flower,” I chided. “It took a lot of time to build my public persona. You can read my eyes, true, but you are blessed by age where I am not.”
At this she bacame crestfallen. A film of tears coated her eyes, but didn’t break the lid’s threshold. It’s in this state that a person’s eyes are easiest to read.
“I love you…” she whispered with a tear, dropping the leather book onto the alley’s floor and wandering away from me.
“Well that was weird,” I said to no one as I bent over to retrieve this titilating volume.
It was wrapped in a large amount of maroon string, which I obviously tore into like a child on Christmas morning. The following is the contents of the misguided girl’s diary. On each page there is somewhere a magic ward. All names have been disguised by several overlapping wards, so I’ve taken the liberty of giving names to any character’s in this part of the story. I’m probably right about them. I usually am right.
Leave a Reply