Chapter 1
The dim, smoky haze of the late-night bar hung heavy as Latisha, a creature of the night herself, observed the scene. Her crimson eyes, usually sharp and predatory, softened slightly as they landed on Maisy, a girl with a nervous smile trying to politely extricate herself from the unwanted attention of a boisterous drunk.
When the man’s grip tightened on Maisy’s arm, preventing her escape, a primal protectiveness surged through Latisha. With a speed that blurred the human eye, she was across the room, a swift, precise strike felling the offender.
His equally inebriated companions, emboldened by alcohol, lunged forward, only to be met with a display of Latisha’s supernatural swiftness and strength, each a blur of motion ending with a thud on the sticky floor.
Dusting off her hands, Latisha offered Maisy a hand up, her voice a low, melodious murmur. “Are you alright?” Maisy, still a little shaken, managed a grateful, “Yes, thank you so much.” As Maisy prepared to leave, Latisha found herself offering, “It’s late. Allow me to walk you home,” a suggestion Maisy readily accepted, relieved to have a guardian by her side as they stepped out into the cool night air.
“Thanks for walking me home,” Maisy said, a genuine smile gracing her lips as they approached a charming, brightly painted house.
“This is where you live?” Latisha inquired, pausing at the foot of the short walkway.
“Yes,” Maisy replied. “I would invite you inside, but it’s quite late, maybe another time?”
“Oh, that’s perfectly alright,” Latisha assured her. “I need to be heading home myself.”
A sudden thought sparked in Maisy’s eyes. “Wait!” she called out as Latisha began to turn away. “Would you like to grab a drink with me tomorrow morning?”
“Oh, that’s kind of you,” Latisha responded, “but mornings are usually quite busy for me. How about in the evening, when I’m free?”
Maisy’s face lit up. “That sounds perfect! Tomorrow night it is then.” With a final wave, Maisy turned and disappeared inside her house, leaving Latisha with a warm feeling about her new acquaintance.
The twilight painted long, eerie shadows as Latisha, her crimson eyes reflecting the fading light, glided between the ancient trees. A rustle in the undergrowth made her pause. “Hello?” she called out, her voice a soft melody that belied the predatory instinct thrumming beneath her skin. Silence answered. She knew the townsfolk whispered tales of this wood, their voices hushed with fear. Never go into the Shadowwood, their parents warned, or the blood-drinkers will get you.
Latisha sighed, a sound like the whisper of dry leaves. “They’re right to be afraid,” she murmured to herself, her fangs subtly lengthening. “If they only knew the monster that calls this place home... that I call this place home.” A twig snapped nearby. “Is someone there?” she asked again, a hint of impatience now coloring her tone. “Show yourself!”
“What are you doing, Latisha?” Nick materialized from behind a gnarled oak, his crimson eyes fixed on her. “The humans are our food. Why didn’t you kill the girl you walked home?”
Latisha spun around, her own eyes flashing with annoyance. “Listen here, Nick,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “You don’t own me, and nobody tells me what to do. If I find you following me again, it will not end well for you.”
Nick merely chuckled, a dry, unsettling sound. “I will be watching you,” he said, his gaze unwavering before he melted back into the darkness.
Reaching her secluded cottage, Latisha descended into the cool embrace of her coffin. Yet, as she settled into the familiar stillness, Nick’s words echoed in her mind, a persistent, unwelcome intrusion.
The next morning, before the sun had even fully stretched its golden fingers across the sky, Maisy was wide awake. A quick splash of cool water on her face, a swift change of clothes, and she was out the door, her footsteps eager on the quiet streets leading into town.
The aroma of brewing coffee hung invitingly in the air as she stepped into the local shop. “Excuse me,” Maisy began, her voice a little breathless as she addressed the owner behind the counter, “I was wondering if you happen to know a girl named Latisha?” The owner, a friendly man with flour dusting his apron, paused his work. “Latisha, you say? Hmm, the name doesn’t immediately ring a bell. But we have so many folks coming and going throughout the day. Do you happen to have a picture? I might recognize her face.” Maisy’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh, no, I don’t. I only met her briefly last night and was hoping to surprise her if I could find where she lived.”
A thoughtful look crossed the owner’s face. “Ah, I understand. Well, keep trying! You never know who might pop in.” With a polite “Thank you,” Maisy left the warm bustle of the coffee shop and wandered into the nearby park. She settled onto a quiet bench, her gaze drifting towards the joyful shrieks of children chasing pigeons across the paved paths. While observing the children playing in the park, Maisy became so engrossed that she lost track of time and hurried home.
