Amanda hadn't slept through the night in three days. Not because of noise. Not even because of nightmares. Because every time she started to drift off, she'd hear something just on the edge of her hearing, like someone whispering in a language she almost understood.
Last night it was worse. She'd dreamed she was standing in a dried-out riverbed, barefoot, staring at the body of a deer.
Its eyes were open. It wasn't dead yet. But it wasn't alive either. She woke up sweating, the sheets tangled around her legs, her fingertips numb.
Today, she couldn't focus.
At work, she scanned books that weren't in the system, put them back in the wrong places, forgot what shelf she'd just passed. At lunch, she sat outside and stared at the woods across the lot and felt... watched.
It wasn't paranoia, it was deeper. Like something beneath the dirt had finally started to move. When she touched the ground, just out of habit, palm against the earth it felt warm.
Not sun-warm.
Like breathing warm. Making her recoil.
Sam had noticed how she wasn't feeling well.
They were closing up early, people weren't going out much lately. Too many neighbors acting strange. Too many blackouts, broken windows, weird stories spreading behind closed doors.
"You all right?" he asked.
Amanda forced a half-shrug. "Just tired."
Sam gave her a longer look than usual, like he wanted to say more.
But didn't. Just like always.
That night, she went home and didn't turn on the lights.
She didn't need to. The house wasn't dark.
It was waiting.
Later in the evening. She sat on the couch with her arms wrapped around her legs, the TV on mute. The news was running, some senator arguing over vampire blood laws, but her eyes weren't on it.
They were fixed on the corner of the room. There was nothing there. Just shadow. But it felt like something had been there a second ago.
Watching.
Breathing.
Waiting for her to blink.
She rubbed her eyes and stood up, moved into the kitchen. The clock on the stove read 11:47 PM. She hadn't eaten dinner. Hadn't been hungry. Her stomach twisted anyway, nerves, maybe. Or something else.
She flicked on the light.
The bulb popped.
Glass crackled above her head, Amanda stared at the glass, jaw tight.
Then reached for the broom. As she swept, she caught her reflection in the microwave door—faint and warped. Her eyes looked wrong. Not glowing. Not black. Just… distant.
Like she wasn't fully inside herself.
Like something had shifted when she wasn't looking.
The hallway to her bedroom felt longer than usual. She didn't turn on the light. Didn't need it. Her hands knew the path, but her brain screamed with every step.
Something was behind her.
She could feel it.
Hot breath near her neck.
No sound. No footsteps. Just pressure. Like a gaze she couldn't shake off.
She turned quickly.
Nothing. The hallway was empty.
But the air smelled like.
Smoke?
No, not quite. Ashes. Like someone had just opened an urn and whispered into it. Amanda backed up slowly and entered her bedroom. She shut the door behind her without looking back.
At 3:14 AM, she woke up without knowing why.
The room was freezing. Her hands were shaking. And her sheets were on the floor, even though she swore she hadn't moved.
There was a shape near the closet. Not a person. Not a figure. Just a wrongness. A smudge in the dark.
She blinked.
It was gone.
She didn't scream. Didn't run. She sat up and whispered: "What do you want?"
No answer.
But her chest grew heavy. Her heartbeat slowed. She felt pressure against her skin, like fingers brushing her arm without touching it.
Across town, in the woods just past the tree line, Lucan's eyes opened.
He felt it.
Not Amanda.
But the dead.
Something tethered was stirring, and it was tied to her.
Lucan watched from across the woods. Amanda's house sat in stillness. No lights. No movement. Just the faint hum of life inside.
He hadn't moved in an hour.
Didn't need to.
He could feel it now, the thing inside her. Not a possession. Not a curse.
A tether.
Not strong. Not yet. But enough to pull something toward her. And more than that, she was receiving it. Not resisting. Not shielding. Just wide open. Like a phone line no one had bothered to disconnect.
He narrowed his eyes, watching her through the faint gap in the curtains. She sat on the edge of her bed, body still, her eyes focused on nothing. Even from here, he could hear her heart, it beat slowly, steadily.
Too calm.
Too quiet for a human in the dark.
'She's listening.'
'To what?'
'To who?'
Lucan stepped back into the shadows, his clothes brushing branches as he turned and disappeared into the trees behind her home.
He didn't know what she was yet. But he knew what she wasn't. She wasn't just another damaged woman living alone in a rotting town.
She was a gate.
One she didn't know she'd built. And something was getting ready to walk through.
He moved deeper into the woods, circling wide to return to the spot where he'd found the clearing, the stone, the bones, the imprint of something primitive.
It was quiet tonight.
Too quiet.
He crouched near the edge of the clearing, eyes scanning the space. No blood. No fresh marks. But something new was here.
An object. Placed carefully on the stone.
A goat's eye.
Still wet. Still warm. Laid in the center like an offering.
Lucan didn't move. His gaze scanned the trees.
Nothing.
But he could feel her. Not Amanda. The other one. The one building all of this in plain sight. And then, behind him, just loud enough to be intentional:
A voice.
Soft. Smiling.
"I was wondering when you'd come back."