The Secret Meeting

Viv woke up with a pounding headache and no idea where she was. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was lying on a soft couch in what looked like an office. Huge windows showed the city lights far below.

"You're awake. Good," said a voice.

Viv jumped and turned to see a woman with long red hair watching her. The woman wore a fancy black dress and had eyes that seemed to change color in the light.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Viv asked, her voice shaky.

"My name is Lilith. You're in Blackthorn Tower. Mr. Blackthorn brought you here after you fainted." The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "He had to leave for a meeting, but he said you're free to go. Just sign this first."

She handed Viv a paper. It was a promise to never write about what she saw at the cathedral.

"And if I don't sign?" Viv asked.

Lilith's smile turned cold. "Then you won't leave."

Viv's hands shook as she signed the paper. She had no intention of keeping this promise, but she needed to get out of here first.

"Wise choice," Lilith said, taking the paper. "The elevator is down the hall. Don't come back."

Three days later, Viv was back at the cathedral. She knew it was dangerous, but she couldn't stop thinking about what she'd seen. Those people with their weird red drinks. The way Blackthorn had looked at her. And those strange memories that had flashed through her mind.

This time, she was better prepared. She wore all black and carried a small camera that could see in the dark. She had also told Jenny where she was going, just in case.

"If I don't text you by midnight, call the police," she had told her friend.

Jenny had looked worried. "Viv, maybe this isn't a good idea. Those missing people..."

"That's exactly why I have to do this," Viv had replied. "Someone needs to find out what's happening."

Now, hiding in the shadows across from the cathedral, Viv watched as fancy cars pulled up. Men and women in expensive clothes went inside. She recognized some of them from TV—the mayor, a famous actor, the owner of the city's biggest bank.

When the street was empty again, Viv crept to the back of the cathedral where she'd found a small door hidden behind some bushes during her last visit. It was locked, but she had come prepared. She took out a small tool her dad had taught her to use before he disappeared years ago.

"Sometimes you need to get into places people don't want you to be," he had said with a wink.

The lock clicked open. Viv slipped inside and found herself in a dark hallway. She could hear music coming from the main room. Moving slowly, she followed the sound.

The hallway opened into a small alcove with a stone pillar. Viv hid behind it and peered out at the party.

The inside of the cathedral was even more amazing than last time. The ceiling was painted to look like a night sky with real stars that seemed to move. Tables covered in food and drinks lined the walls. People danced and laughed in the center of the room.

But something felt wrong. Viv couldn't put her finger on it, but the air seemed to buzz with a strange energy.

Then she saw him—Damien Blackthorn, standing on a raised platform at the far end of the room. He wore a black suit that made his pale skin look even whiter. He raised his hands, and the music stopped.

"My friends," he said, his voice echoing in the huge space. "Welcome to our monthly gathering. Tonight is special. Tonight, we celebrate the harvest."

A chill ran down Viv's spine. Harvest? What did that mean?

Blackthorn clapped his hands, and a group of people were led into the room. They walked slowly, their eyes glassy, like they were sleepwalking. Viv gasped when she recognized one of them—Sarah Miller, a girl who had been reported missing last week.

"Don't be alarmed," Blackthorn continued. "These donors have been well compensated for their contribution. They will remember nothing of this night."

Donors? What were they donating?

And then, Viv saw something that made her blood freeze. The party guests' faces began to change. Their eyes turned bright red. Their teeth grew longer, sharper. Like fangs.

"No," Viv whispered. "It can't be."

But it was. All around the room, the beautiful people were turning into monsters. Into vampires.

Each vampire took one of the donors by the hand and led them to small curtained areas around the edge of the room.

Viv's hands shook as she raised her camera. She had to get proof of this. No one would believe her otherwise.

She snapped picture after picture, her heart pounding so loud she was sure someone would hear it. This was impossible. Vampires weren't real. They were just stories to scare children.

But the evidence was right in front of her.

Suddenly, Viv felt a strange pull. She looked up to see Blackthorn staring right at her from across the room. How had he spotted her in the shadows?

Their eyes locked, and that weird feeling came over her again—like someone was pressing on her mind. More flashes of memories that weren't hers: a castle on a hill, a battle with swords, the taste of blood.

Viv stumbled backward, breaking eye contact. She had to get out of here. Now.

She turned to run and slammed straight into someone's chest. Looking up, she found herself face-to-face with the security guard who had caught her last time.

"Hello again, little spy," he said, his eyes glowing red. "Did you really think we wouldn't smell you?"

Smell her? What was he talking about?

"Let me go," Viv said, trying to sound brave. "People know I'm here. If I don't come back, they'll call the police."

The guard laughed, showing fangs. "The police? Half the police force is here tonight, enjoying the feast."

Viv's stomach dropped. She was in big trouble.

The guard grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the main room. Viv fought, kicking and scratching, but it was like fighting a statue. The guard didn't even flinch.

Suddenly, someone shouted, "Wait!"

The guard stopped. Viv turned to see Damien Blackthorn standing there, looking angry.

"Bring her to my office," he said. "And be careful. She's... different."

Different? What did that mean?

The guard nodded and dragged Viv away from the party. They went down several hallways and up a flight of stairs. Finally, they reached a door made of dark wood with strange symbols carved into it.

The guard knocked, and the door swung open on its own. He pushed Viv inside and closed the door behind her, leaving her alone in a room that looked like something from an old movie about kings and queens.

Books lined the walls. A fire burned in a huge fireplace. In the center of the room was a big desk made of dark wood.

Viv's reporter instincts kicked in. She had to find something, anything, that would help her understand what was going on. She rushed to the desk and started opening drawers.

Most were filled with normal office stuff—pens, paper, paper clips. But in the bottom drawer, she found an old leather book. The cover had the same weird symbols as the door.

Viv opened it and found pages filled with strange writing. Some of it looked like recipes, but with ingredients like "blood of a virgin" and "tears of the innocent."

Her hands shook as she flipped through the pages. This couldn't be real. It had to be some kind of joke or trick.

Then she saw her own name, written in fresh ink on one of the pages.

"Vivienne Thorne," it said. "Potential carrier of the bloodline."

Below that was a sketch of a woman who looked exactly like Viv, but wearing old-fashioned clothes. The date next to the drawing was 1872.

The door opened. Viv slammed the book shut and spun around.

Damien Blackthorn stood in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on her. Behind him, Viv could see other vampires waiting in the hallway, their eyes glowing with hunger.

"Well, Miss Thorne," Blackthorn said, closing the door. "It seems you and I have a lot to talk about."

He smiled, showing fangs. "Starting with why you look exactly like my wife who died 150 years ago."