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K IDAN DIDN’T UNPACK. S HE LEFT HER SUITCASE AND BAG IN THE CORNER of a spacious bedroom fit for three people. After an hour of loud arguments with the dean, Susenyos left the house in fury. Kidan watched his long coat sweeping backward as he stormed down the front steps and the dean followed. Kidan didn’t waste another second. Quickly, she searched every room, starting with the floor she was on. Four bedrooms in total, furnished in the same exact way except for one.

His room.

She couldn’t help but compare it with her stifling apartment that was now thankfully abandoned. Her curtains had always been drawn so the sun wouldn’t interrupt the dark. It had forced her to remain, to revisit the thoughts that pecked at her flesh in some macabre meditation.

Susenyos Sagad, however, welcomed the sun, an entire wall of glass displaying the distant forest and the approaching dusk. It frustrated her to no end that he thought himself deserving of any light.

The smell of books and ink was most potent in the middle of the room. She was familiar with the crinkle and mess of paper, but while her reading material swallowed the floor, strewn and sliding under drawers, here the papers were rolled and sealed into scrolls, thousands of them covering the opposite walls. Annoyance flickered inside her again. How careful and neat and clean it all was.

She retrieved one scroll, slipped free its ribbon, and skimmed the neat writing.

Letter to the Immortal,

I feel silly writing to you. My friends think I fantasize too much, believe the cracks of our world conceal wondrous magic beneath them, but what other way is there to live? There must be some other existence for us. Humans can’t truly be gifted with a mind to wonder and create and yet be forced to live in an endless cycle of money and work.

I hope I do this right. You ask for name, country, and date.

Please, write back to me. Not because my life is in danger or I request aid but because knowing you exist would save my imagination, and it is all I’d need to change my life.

Rosa Tomás

Luanda, Angola, 1931

Kidan frowned and grabbed a couple more. They were all letters from different countries and years; the oldest she found was 1889. Parchment rolled up into scrolls. Kidan couldn’t make sense of it. The best she could guess was he’d run a sort of business and these letters were requests, but what exactly he offered in return was difficult to deduce, as each letter asked for something different. By the fifth letter, Kidan couldn’t stand the desperation of the writers. They were begging a monster to save them. Her eyes scanned it all—at least a thousand were here.

His closet held an assortment of expensive coats, loose shirts, and black and brown pants. On his bedside table was the book he’d had when they first met, showing a grapefruit cut and dripping blood.

She rummaged and pulled out everything in his bedside drawers—a set of rings, a box of pens, bound manuscripts, golden flasks.

She’d almost given up and left the room when the unfiltered sunlight twinkled on a silver bracelet, wedged deep in the corner. All sound faded. The tweeting birds outside, the gentle rustle of wind, the creaks and groans of an old house.

Kidan’s heart pounded.

Shaking, she reached for the chain, and pulled. A butterfly charm dangled on it.

A sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth. Kidan had made two of these bracelets—one for Mama Anoet, and one for June. This one, the most special one, featured a three-pointed charm, in reference to the Three Binds placed on all vampires. To help keep her sister’s nightmares away.

Kidan’s voice broke. “June.”

A cold voice cut through the room. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

Kidan stiffened. Susenyos stood in the entry, arms crossed, eyes narrowed on the dangling bracelet and the contents of his drawers strewn around the floor.

She needed to get the hell out of here. Get to Dean Faris.

Before Kidan could close her fingers, Susenyos shoved her backward with unnatural speed and reclaimed the bracelet with a piece of napkin.

“Give it back,” she snarled, jumping to her feet and attacking him.

He captured her wrists with ease, and her sweater sleeve peeled back, revealing her own, matching bracelet. A line formed between his dark brows.

“Where is she?” She breathed pure fire. “What did you do to her?”

His eyes mirrored the bottom of the ocean. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Spittle gathered in the corners of her mouth as she roared. “Where the fuck is she?”

Susenyos dragged her to the edge of his room with frightening strength. “We’re going to need to set certain boundaries. If I find you in my room again, I won’t be so gentle.”

He threw her out like dirty laundry. Kidan tried to run back, but the door slammed shut. She pounded on it until her fists bruised—and it opened. She rushed inside. The window was open. But Susenyos, along with the bracelet, was gone.

Her one chance. The proof she’d need for Dean Faris to believe her. Gone.

Kidan screamed so loud, the birds nestled in all the trees of Uxlay took flight.