Her finger traced over my cheek, that’s the way I recall it, her touch, soft as a feather. Her eyes gleamed silver in the moonlight, and, her lips slowly parted to reveal sharp white teeth.

Not pointed, or misshapen, I remember that clearly, thinking, why, she doesn’t have fangs at all.

And then she laughed, a cold silvery sound, and I felt embarrassed for even thinking such things. Foolish. For she was my new friend, and we would be together for such a long time.

It is time, she said, or whispered, her voice echoing in my head. A sound of bells, metallic striking together and ringing melodiously. It is time, she continued, when the moon is high, and full, and the surges of sea and earth move together as one, and blood covers the land –

“But what of...

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