Vampire Girlfriend: Epiphania (rough draft)

I have always been fascinated by this building I pass by when I go to work. The architecture suggests church, but I have heard through the rumor mill it is anything but a holy place. It’s massive and beautiful, decorated with angels and gargoyles alike. It makes me think, rather than a place of virtue or sin, it is a ground of neutrality.

Through my job as a reporter, I have been able to find information on this place to piece together a half completed jigsaw puzzle on it. Long ago it had once been a church, but the pastor of it changed it around, turning it from sanctuary and safe haven, into a place where rumors flowed. The rumors caused the church to be shut down, but years later, the church was reopened under the guise of apartments. After that, slowly, it began to open its doors as a business, offering massages and various types of therapies. That’s when the rumors started again, claiming the place, now known at the True Love’s Kiss, was harboring demons as a place of debauchery and sin. Still, everyday when my bus passes by it, I am fascinated.

I have been trying now to get my boss to approve my want of an investigation of this place. My thoughts are that I would like to interview individuals of this establishment and hear their individual stories. I want to find out more history, why rumors dog its every incarnation. I want to hear the stories from the mouths of those who love it rather than the ones who judge it. Eventually, I grow exhausted with my boss’ humming and hawing on the matter. She keeps ignoring my requests, giving me tasks that seem like busy work. So, instead of taking my bus all the way home one evening, I get out at the stop just before the True Love’s Kiss.

I have never walked up to the place before, although I have always wanted to ever since my bus first drove by it. I stand before the big, red doors and my hands begin to shake. I grip onto the strap of my bag to keep them steady. As I approach, I see an intercom system set up at the door which instructs me to buzz in before I enter. I press the well worn button and, after a click and a hum, a small TV screen comes on. A young woman sits at the desk, her eyes diverted, probably looking at me through another screen.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asks.

“No.” I say this then instantly regret it. “My name is Theo Finnes. I’m a reporter for the Algonquin Gazette and I was hoping-”

“Reporter?” She clicks her tongue. “No, no, you must have misheard me. I asked if you had an appointment, not a death wish.”

I’m taken aback by her quick wit. “No, I don’t.”

“Then please step away from the door, sir,” she sighs.

I keep my finger on the button so she can’t turn me off. “I want to interview people here. I want to set the record straight on some key topics. I would like to-”

“No means no, sir. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the nice young man who works for security.” As she says that, the door opens and a large minotaur steps out, clad in a tight black shirt and jacket. He glares down at me.

“We gonna have a problem?” He asks.

I shake my head. “No. I was just-” I take a step back and end up tripping down a couple of steps. I fall on my ass just as a young girl walks up.

“You okay?” She stoops down, holding a plastic bag in one hand.

“Come along, Ms. Agatha,” the minotaur beckons. “He’s trying to cause trouble.”

Agatha looks up briefly then back down at me as I try to gather myself. “Just ignore me,” I chuckle. “It’ll make me feel better.”

It’s getting dark out, but the girl is wearing extremely dark sunglasses. They’re so tinted I can’t even see her eyes through them. She looks very young, perhaps fifteen or so. I don’t know if it’s the glasses or not, but she also looks very pale. She looks at me, tilting her head to the side.

“Agatha,” the minotaur calls again.

“Just wait a damn minute!” She barks up at him. “I’m making sure this guy is okay.”

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about me. Really.”

Agatha blocks my way from going forward. “You look familiar.”

It’s a bit shocking, if she weren’t such a small girl I might be ready to admit a tinge a fear. “Do I?” I chuckle. I try to step around her again, but somehow she knows my every move before I make it. I hear the minotaur grunt impatiently above us on the stairs and I stop in my tracks, letting Agatha stand before me with a smile on her face.

“You look almost exactly like him,” she then murmurs. “It’s quite amazing.”

I frown and shrug. “Well, whoever he is, I can say for certain I am not.”

“My mother would love to meet you,” she says brightly.

This simple sentence sends cold chills down my spine and churns stones in my stomach. I finally side step the girl and head towards the bus stop. “It was nice meeting you, Agatha.”

She waves to me as I walk away. “See you soon.” And the way she says that, it sounds almost assured that she will.

Once I head home, I start to put together just how I am going to get inside the TLK. They take appointments, but I have never seen a phone number anywhere. There’s not even a listing online. How do I make an appointment or even reach the owner? If I could talk to the owner, then maybe I could get a foot in the door. But after seeing that minotaur I highly doubt he’d let a hair in, let alone my foot.

I sit down at my kitchen table, sighing heavily at my computer screen while I eat the microwaved burrito that is my dinner. My gut churns, always does. Nothing I eat settles right with me. I suppose this is the worst thing I could eat, but even when I eat something expensive or health wise, it twists my guts horribly. So, I might as well eat something cheap and have it bother me.

I don’t know if it’s the crappy burritos that cause this too, but often I have horrible dreams. They’re so vivid to me, and often are an onslaught on my senses. They’re not a long stream of consciousness, but rather a barrage of images and scenes that play in rapid succession of each other. I can see each one individually with clarity, but also they become blurred in my mind. So when I wake, all I remember is the blur. It’s all I’ve known, so I’m used to it. Apparently, though, it’s not exactly normal. My dreams come the same way that evening, although there is something different about them. I can hear the voice of a woman, as before everything was silent except for the loud hum of all the images rushing together.

I hear the woman loudest of all, speaking in different languages at the same time. She sings, she laughs, she anguishes, all in one breath. I begin to see her through the images, their fast moving blurs like rustling pages. Her image takes shape in the rapidness, stepping closer and closer until her figure is all I see.

I wake with a start, feeling as though my body hits the bed from a fall. I sit up, seeing it’s still quite dark out. I never sleep for long, so this isn’t new. I lay back down with a huff, covering my face with my hands. I could almost see that woman, and it was frustrating. I wanted to remember my dreams so badly and I was growing upset with the constant lack of memory.

Going into work I find a stack of papers on my desk. A new assignment, probably a reprimand for going to the True Love’s Kiss. After all, I did say where I worked, no doubt they called to yell about me. I sit down, chugging my coffee now that it is a little cooler than lava. As I look at the papers, I see I’ve been scheduled to interview at the True Love’s Kiss that day.

I nearly spit my coffee, but I do spill it, causing a mess all over my lap and desk. In my hectic rush to clean it, I barely notice my boss approaching me. She looks down and up and clicks her tongue.

“Hard at work already?”

I look up from using my sweater to clean up the mess. “Always.”

“I take it you saw the assignment,” she looks unnerved as she says this. “They want you there all day, talking to people.”

“Really? Why?”

“Don’t know. Just got called this morning right as I walked through the door,” she huffs. “Said they were impressed and wanted to see what you could do.”

“I’ve been asking for this for months,” I whisper to her. “Why now?”

She looks down then back up. “They asked for you.”

I went back to True Love’s Kiss, my pants still stained with coffee, but I didn’t have time to go home and change. Also wasn’t sure I had anything clean anyways. I press the intercom again, ready to say that, yes, I did have an appointment!

The screen turns on and there is someone else there. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes! My name is Theo Finnes and I am-”

“Oh, the reporter,” the man says. “We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Finnes.” The door clicks. “You may come inside.”

I step towards the red door, heart in my throat. I half expect the door to have no give when I pull on the handle, but it opens for me. I bite back my anxious smile and step inside. There’s a long, narrow lobby which is blocked off by the front desk. Already there are people sitting in wait, thumbing through magazines or their phones. I stride towards the front desk, nervous but elated to be here. I smile as I touch the desk.

“Just one moment,” the man says. He has long, pure white hair and while he wears a tailored jacket and tie, when he stands, I see he’s wearing a form fitting pencil skirt. “Follow me.” He opens an iron gate, letting me through. “I’ll be taking you to your first scheduled interview.”

“How many interviews do I have?” I look around, trying to take in everything, but he’s walking so damn fast. There are so many people around, but nothing looks as sinister or depraved as people say. In fact, everything seems so friendly and open. People are working, cleaning, preparing for the day.

“Depends really,” he sighs. “Claude is allowing volunteers for this.”

“Claude?”

He stops and turns. “The owner.” He then keeps walking.

“Sorry, it’s just that, I know so much and so little about this place at the same time. It’s fascinating!” We come to an elevator where I see a woman set up with an easel and is drawing with charcoal.

“That’s reaffirming to hear,” he says. He steps into the elevator and I follow behind. As the door closes again, he stands there and watches the lights. “You’ll be meeting with Doctor Epiphania and her team first.”

“Oh,” I’m a bit surprised. “You have doctors here?”

He just looks at me. “I’m not being interviewed.” The elevator opens up into a room that is decorated in copper and blue. There are columns creating arches, which each make a little nook sitting area. I step inside, smelling antiseptic and a touch of lemon.

“Welcome!”

I look up from my inspection and see Agatha standing there. I look around, perplexed and bewildered. “Hello again,” I say with uncertainty.

Agatha smiles and bounces on her heels. “We’ve been expecting you, Theo.” She still has on those sunglasses.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as I slowly approach.

“I work here,” she states simply.

“Really?” I say incredulously. “Well, I guess I’ll be interviewing you today then.”

Agatha nods then opens her arms and motions around the room. “This is the Clinic,” she says. “Here we offer many medical services, ranging from beauty treatments to minor surgery. But our main focus is gynecological health.”

I smile at her. “And you work here?”

Agatha tilts her head to the side. “Due to my youthful visage, I am not surprised you are suspicious. But let me assure you, I am a doctor just like the others here.”

“Do you have a specialty?” I ask.

“I work with those who need hormone therapies, I have a very wide range of clients.” Her youthful, even baby like, appearance still throws me.

“Then why would this place be so secret? Why can’t I find any business listing for this entire establishment, let alone a phone number?”

Agatha’s smile becomes soft and coy. “It’s a long story, you best save that question for Dr. Epiphania.”

“And who might they be?”

“My mother,” Agatha then turns. “Come this way, I’ll give you a tour.” She walks me through a door and through more blue and copper decor. “Does any of this look familiar?” She asks.

“Is it supposed to?”

“My mother had the clinic based on Byzantine decor. She didn’t want the clinic to seem like such a sterile and inhospitable place. She wanted this place to feel welcoming to our clients.” She shows me the rooms, each one similar but a little different. “We have five practicing doctors here, as well as six nurses. My mother started this clinic after a friend of hers opened a similar one.”

“And what does that mean?” I say with a chuckle. “I thought gynecology was a popular field.”

Agatha opens a door. “It’s more than that.” She steps inside, removing her glasses. The room is completely windowless, lit by a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Agatha turns to me, her eyes are ruby red. “This is a vampire clinic.”

A woman stands up from behind a massive, ornate desk. She, too, has the white hair and pale skin that Agatha does. “You must be the reporter,” she says.

Agatha closes the door behind me. “Come sit.”

I step forward slowly, standing while Agatha takes a seat. The woman standing there is remarkably tall and garbed in all black, save for a white lab coat. Her hair is cut into a sharp bob pulled all to one side.

“Dr. Epiphania,” I say breathlessly. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She holds a look of shock on her face. Her brows pinch while her lips part slightly. “Theo Finnes,” she whispers. “Welcome.” She sits back down at her desk where her face smooths into a cool smile.

“Thank you for having me.” I take a seat, using my bag to cover the coffee stain on my lap. I am suddenly nervous for more than just my excitement of being here. Epiphania is quite lovely, but when I look at her, I feel this pang of nostalgia I can’t shake. “It’s been a goal of mine for a while now to be able to interview here.”

Her red eyes move over me and slowly she begins to smile. “I’ll admit, I was surprised when the idea was brought to me. But I am always eager to show the positive side of this place.”

Her voice sounds familiar, it tickles at my brain and bothers me a little. I take out my recorder and notepad. “Do you mind if I record?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. Go right ahead.”

I turn it on and set it upon her desk. “So, let’s start at the beginning. When did you come here and start working?”

She sighs, smoothing her hand down her front. “It feels like so long ago,” she murmurs. “I didn’t first come here as a doctor. I first came here seeking sanctuary.”

I furrow my brow. “This place offers sanctuary?”

“This place is a sanctuary. If it is not a church anymore, it still serves as holy ground. Claude takes good care of people, he knows and understands what it is like to have to struggle to find somewhere accepting.” Epiphania strokes her fingers through her hair, gently tucking it behind her ear. She wears only one earring, which is a droplet stone that is either black or red. “Agatha and I came here as victims. Our homes were ripped away from us, our lives in turmoil. For a long time, all we had done was run.”

My stomach ties up in knots, which isn’t unusual. Due to never eating anything agreeable, it was usually like that. But today the knots feels tighter, even hot. “I’m sorry to hear that. When you came here, what exactly happened? What did Claude do for you?”

“He took us in, got us help. Back then, he was only starting to rebuild this place.” She extends her hand out. “He inherited the place from his father.”

“And how long have you been here since?”

Epiphania smiles. “I would say our lives began here, but I assume you know how vampires live, Mr. Finnes.”

“I am aware of your life spans, but I only have the knowledge that a casual observer would have. Would you like to tell me about your life to help me understand your work here at the True Love’s Kiss?”

She chuckles softly. “How casual is your observation, Mr. Finnes? Most people these days have knowledge on vampires, thanks to programs hoping to reeducate the populace beyond horror movies and strict stereotypes. The growing number of Vampire clinics is also a huge topic. I’m sure your paper has done articles on both subjects.”

I smile shyly and shake my head, defeated. “I’ve always offered to take on this job in writing such articles, but I’ve never had the fortune to do them. So all I know is from what my colleagues have written, as well as the few things I have seen for myself. But to know who a vampire really is and how they live, that requires intimate knowledge, don’t you think?”

She smiles and leans forward on her desk. “What would you like to know about me, Mr. Finnes?”

Agatha suddenly stands. “I have an appointment coming up. I’ll leave you two alone.” She puts her glasses back on and leaves the room. Once the door shuts, Epiphania removes her lab coat. I notice that, along her clavicle, there appears to be tattoos, but I don’t want it to seem like I am staring.

“I’d like to know a great deal about you, Dr. Epiphania, but I am here for work, for the paper.” I fidget a bit with my pad and pen. “I should really interview you more about your business.”

“Professional,” she leans back again. “I can appreciate that, Mr. Finnes.” Despite what she says, she does look displeased by my answer. “Well, to begin, Agatha and I were part of a purge ages ago,” she murmurs. “We were buried, forced to sleep for ages. When we awoke, everything we had suffered was still fresh with us. That is why we came here. Our past was long gone, more buried than we were, but it was still a raw wound on our bodies.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

She sighs. “We have recovered, we have become capable and have adapted to this world. Claude helped us in more ways than one, that is why I work here. I want to save lives like he did for us back then. This place is about healing, saving lives, and giving comfort, Mr. Finnes. So I do hope your interviews here will reflect that.”

I nod shakily, wishing I could rid myself of the feeling that I know her despite the fact that we have just first met. I continue the interview, asking her about the clinic she runs, her education, how it all ties back into the True Love’s Kiss. Midway through, though, Agatha returns to fetch her mother for an emergency. Dr. Epiphania excuses herself, promising to finish the interview tomorrow. I am taken elsewhere to interview another member of the True Love’s Kiss, although my mind is very much still wrapped up with the lovely doctor.

I head home that evening, setting all my belongings aside. I take out my computer, the recorder, and the pad I was writing on. While one of those crappy burritos cooks, I transcribe the recording, using my notes to enhance the script for when I write my article later.

“Agatha and I came here as victims. Our homes were ripped away from us, our lives in turmoil. For a long time, all we had done was run.” Dr. Epiphania said through the tape. Her voice was tinged with anger and sorrow, I could feel her sense of loss seep in my core. It goes deeper than that, as if my body feels her grief. As the microwave dings I am sobbing, crying. It frightens me that this deep feeling has hit me all of a sudden. Is it the stomach issues? The lack of sleep? Why am I suddenly so moved and for no reason?

When I am finally able to tear myself away from the grief, I get up, soppy faced, and take my meal from the microwave. It’s more disgusting than usual, and I have to spit out the bite in my mouth. It makes me sick without even having to eat it, so I guzzle some orange juice to make up for it. Hopefully, come morning, I’ll be over this and able to interview better. I’d hate to appear as disheveled as I did yesterday with coffee stains all over my lap, and my interview itself was sloppy.

I go to bed once I have the tape transcribed to my laptop. I even write the opening paragraph of my article which I will probably rewrite a dozen times before I am satisfied. Laying there in the dark, the sounds of cars passing below my window, I feel myself sink more than drift to sleep. I see the pages laid open before me, blurred out as they fall before me. I watch them, not seeing anything, just colors and quick sounds. Red then flashes before me, blinking slow at first then becoming bigger, brighter. I hear screams of agony, the voices of men and women in the worst pain imaginable. I feel sick to my stomach and I wake up immediately, throwing myself into the bathroom where I heave and convulse over the toilet.

Disconcerting doesn’t do justice to what I feel there on the bathroom floor. Besides the red I could swear I smelled the pungent scent of rotting blood around me. Metallic, meaty decay all about me. I hang my head onto my knees, thanking the coldness of the bathroom floor for comforting me.

Before I head into work to upload my progress then head back to the TLK, I shower, try to put on a presentable face. I even use my secret stash of concealer to brighten up the gruesome battleground that is my eyes. I go back to the TLK, being let in by the same guy as yesterday.

I am taken back to Dr. Epiphania’s office, where she greets me in the lobby. Her smile is bright, and she looks much more chipper than yesterday where she was a cloud of seriousness.

“Good morning, Mr. Finnes.” She sets a book behind the front desk.

I nod at her. “Good morning.” I try to match her charm and vitality, but I am afraid that I have none inside me.

She gives me a concerned look as I approach. “Has this morning not found you well?”

“I am afraid the morning hasn’t found me at all. But not to worry, I’m eager to get back to our interview.”

Her brow purses as she looks over me, her ruby eyes cutting down along my face like she is searching for the missing puzzle piece. “I am a doctor, so I do worry.”

“It’s just something I am used to,” I try to laugh it off. “If you are so worried, I can take a referral.”

“Take this then.” She hands me her card. “In case you change your mind.” She sighs and opens the door to the doctor’s hallway. “We’ll go back to my office, if that’s okay with you.”

“Perfect.” I follow her back to that grand office, surprised at my feeling of relief once I am there. “I came up with a few more questions last night I’m a bit excited about.”

“Easy for you to say,” she chuckles. “I have actually been quite nervous about this interview, Mr. Finnes.”

I take out my recorder and turn it on. “What makes you nervous?”

“Asking questions is easy, answering them is hard. Hearing the answers can be hard as well.” She stands at the corner of her desk, looking tall and pristine. She’s so lovely, I know I need to keep myself professional, but I cannot deny my attraction to her.

“I suppose that’s true,” I chuckle. “But this is my job, and I am eager to hear you speak your truth about this place.”

Epiphania’s smile grows. “I know what you are trying to get at, Mr. Finnes. Everyone wants dirt, so you dig to get it. So would you like some ice water before you work up a sweat?” She sits down on the corner of her desk and looks down upon me like she is predator and I am prey. This makes me confused as I find myself enjoying it.

I clear my throat and chuckle. “Well, all I have had this morning is coffee. I couldn’t even drink my usual orange juice this morning.” She doesn’t need to know the details.

Her long fingers point to the water cooler in the corner. “Go ahead and help yourself.” Her eyes remain on me as I stand and cross the room. “ You want to know the secrets, right? The TLK is secret for many reasons, shared with only those who know and understand. Some things here may not be agreeable to others, but our services are used for the better good.” She glances to the recorder and reaches across her desk to turn it off. I stand halfway between the water cooler and her with my cup of water. She looks at me, piercing eyes, stern scowl. “What do you think this place offers?”

I stand there, away from my pad so I cannot write any notes. I’m still a bit weak in the legs after last night, but the water actually helps. “I have many thoughts, many ideas of what this place could be. I have heard many, many rumors. Tongues love to wag about this place. But what I assume is only derived from those few things. And what I assume is that this place is the next Hellfire Society.”

She snorts and leans back in her chair. “It’s not that nefarious!” She smiles at me brightly, looking remarkably beautiful. “There are certain things about this place that may sound as dingy and depraved as the Dashwoods and their little society. But this is a place of healing and redemption. There’s more love here than just getting ones jolleys.” She then turns the recorder back on. “Tell me, is there a way you need to heal, Mr. Finnes?”

I remain silent, unable to answer this question aloud. I simply smile and return to my seat. I take my pad in hand and hold my pen tightly. “This isn’t about me, Dr. Epiphania. I’ve told you my opinion.” If I wasn’t holding my pen and pad, I might tremble. I want to answer her question, I really do, but for the sake of my career, I need to keep it hidden.

It isn’t just the dreams or the stomach problems, it’s more than that. I’ve only been awake for so long, and before that, I don’t know anything. I just have to keep up the interview. That’s all. I want to learn about this place, then maybe afterwards I could know her better.

That night when I return home, I just work. I don’t attempt to eat and I’ve thrown out that orange juice, fearing it may have been out of date. I transcribe my interviews from the day, paying careful attention to Dr. Epiphania. After a while of listening to her voice, I drift off there at the kitchen table.

In my dreams I am crushed by a wall of blood, knocked off my feet and carried away. I hear the voices again, the agony and pain that wails all around me. My back hits a wall painfully hard and the blood sloshes and ebbs away, becoming just a pool below my feet which dangle in the air. Something is tight in my chest; it’s dull at first but becomes a serious, sharp tug. Jutting from my ribs is a massive wooden spike. I try to scream, but find that I can’t. Something is shoved down my throat. I cough and wheeze, wanting to claw my throat, but my arms won’t move. The wailing of pain has become a wind around me, blowing my hair about my face. It’s white, just pure white.

I am able to spit the object in my throat out; it’s round and purple, sort of fluffy. The flower hits the ground, splashing into the small puddle of blood below me. I cough again, another flower and another. They spill from my throat like the vomit in the toilet.

I wake up, my throat sore and dry. I go to the bathroom, checking my mouth for those purple flowers before guzzling down cold water. It takes me a moment as I huddle over the sink to realize that something about me has changed in my sleep. Looking into my face in that mirror, I notice my hair has changed greatly. I touch it to make sure it’s real, I even pull on it hard to feel that sharp sting of pain. But it’s real, all too real. It’s all pure white, like in the dream.

I am frightened, how could I not be. These dreams, my body, this hair, it’s all too much for me to handle alone. I find the card Epiphania gave me and, against all sound logic and better judgment, I called the number on it. I shake, hoping she doesn’t answer so I can come to reason. But she does, and her voice sounds so soothing.

“Hello? Who is this?” She sounds pissed.

“Hi,” My voice cracks. “I’m sorry for calling like this.” I try to swallow but it’s hard. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Mr. Finnes?” Her voice is concerned, frightened even. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know,” I whimper.

“Where are you?” She asks urgently.

This is all unsound, even crazy. I don’t know why I gave her my address, I don’t know why I agreed to let her come over. I’d hoped by the time she arrived I would turn her away, but I let her in the building and leave my door unlocked for her. I invite her in.

She comes into my kitchen, finding me sitting at the kitchen table fidgeting with my recorder. She takes a seat beside me, sitting down quietly.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, setting the recorder aside.

“Don’t be, Theo. I’m glad you did. Can you look at me?” She sets a bag upon the table. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

I look up at her reluctantly. Not only has my hair turned white, it’s grown at an alarming rate. It’s already reaching my shoulders, but that doesn’t seem to be what’s alarming her. She touches my neck, pressing her fingers down along the artery. She cuts her eyes to me, giving me a very serious look.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

I shake my head. “It all sounds so silly, so normal when I think about it. Lots of people have trouble eating, lots of people have trouble sleeping.” I sigh heavily. “Lots of people are sensitive to sunlight.”

She opens up her bag. “You can’t eat or sleep?”

“Everything I eat turns my stomach. And when I sleep, well, I wouldn’t call it sleep, more like my body is resting and everything above the neck stays awake.” I cup my hand around my neck where she had touched me.

“How long has this been going on?” She asks.

I feel like I could sob again. “Ever since I woke up.”

She furrows her brow. “How long were you in a coma, Theo?”

I lick my lips and let out a shuddering breath. “Five years,” I murmur. “How’d you guess?”

Her lips purse. “I am a doctor.” She touches my hand. “And you know nothing before you woke up?”

“I was found in someone’s basement,” I say simply. “They called me a miracle when I awoke. I was just some John Doe to them, but I did remember my name. That was all I had.”

She nods her head, her eyes distant as she thinks. “Might I ask something strange?”

I chuckle at this. “This night has been nothing but strange to me. I’m sure whatever you ask will not seem half as bad.”

She reaches out, taking hold of my hand, massaging her fingers along my wrist. “Do you mind if I taste you?”

I take in a deep breath. “Is this vampire talk or doctor talk?”

“I am asking as a doctor,” she says with a reassuring smile. “If I can sample your blood, taste it, I can help you figure out what happened, where you came from. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

I nod “Okay, go ahead.”

She moves closer, rubbing my hand and wrist as she brings it closer to her mouth. I see the fangs inside, her rosy red tongue. I watch until her teeth sink into me and then I extinguish like a candle. I never knew myself to be one to faint at the sight of blood. I never knew myself to faint at all, but as soon as those teeth touched me, I was gone. I was back in that dreamscape with those images throwing themselves at me. I heard screams, a man yelling. I smelled blood and ash, which was not new to me.

When I awoke, I was in a large bed, surrounded by blue pillows and a copper bed frame. The room smelled like Epiphania. I rose, taking in my new surroundings slowly. The bedroom was small but intimate, taken up by mostly the bed. I slid my feet off the side, touching the stiff rug below. I looked at my wrist where Epiphania had bit me, but there were no marks.

The door opened and she walked in. “You’re awake.”

“Where am I?” I rub my head, aware that my hair has grown even longer.

“You’re at my home inside the TLK.” She walks to the bed and sits down beside me. “After you fainted I brought you here to keep an eye on you.”

I swallow, my throat painfully dry. “What happened?”

Epiphania touches my face and my body feels weak again. “You’re still resting,” she whispers. “But you're close to waking up.”

I frown. “What does that mean? Am I still in that coma or something? Is all this a dream?”

“Not exactly. You’re sort of...both.” She gives me an apologetic look. “Oh, Theo, I-” Epiphania presses a kiss to my forehead, and I instinctively move to allow her to kiss me. Something about it feels old and familiar, just like her voice did. I kiss her again, letting the relief of nostalgia flow through me.