I wandered the empty halls by candlelight. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet as if the lonely Mansion were crying.

In the living room the moonlight shone through the cracks in the red velvet drapes. The furniture was once again covered with white sheets. Disheartened, I headed for the grand staircase.

Instead of the music of the Smiths pulsing from upstairs, all I heard was the wind blowing against the shutters.

The ghoulish Mansion no longer sent waves of excitement through my veins, only lonely chills. I ascended the stairs and crept into the study, where I'd once been greeted by my knight of the night, holding fresh-picked daisies. Now it was just another abandoned library—books collecting dust, empty of readers.

The butler's bedroom was even more spartan, with a single perfectly made bed, Jameson's closet cleared of clothes, cloaks, and shoes.

The master bedroom was furnished with a canopy bed with black lace that dripped around its gothic columns. I stared at the mirrorless vanity directly across. The little combs, brushes, and nail polishes in shades of black, gray, and brown that had belonged to his mother were gone.

I'd never even had the opportunity to meet Alexander's parents. I wasn't sure if they even existed.

Tormented, I paused at the bottom of the attic steps. I wondered how Alexander felt leaving so suddenly, after finally being accepted by so many Dullsvillians.

I climbed the narrow attic stairway and blew out the dripping candle. I entered his abandoned bedroom, which only two nights ago he had invited me into. His twin-sized mattress rested on the floor, unmade. Typical for any teenager, vampire or not.