The easel in the corner was bare. I gazed at the paint splattered on the floor. All his artwork was gone, even the painting he had made for me—a portrait of me dressed for the Snow Ball, holding a pumpkin basket and a Snickers, sporting a spider ring and fake vampire teeth.

A black letter-sized envelope lay on top of a blood-red paint can, sitting underneath the easel. I held the piece of mail up to the moonlight. It was addressed to Alexander and had a Romanian stamp. There was no return address and the postmark was illegible. The envelope had been ripped open.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I reached my fingers inside and pulled out a red letter. In black ink it read:

Alexander,

HE IS ON HIS WAY!

Unfortunately the rest of the letter had been torn off. I didn't know who it was from or what it meant. I wondered what vital information it held—maybe a top secret location. It was like watching a movie and not seeing the ending. And who was he?

I walked to the window and stared up at the moon—the very window where his grandmother's ghost was rumored to have been seen. I felt a kinship with the baroness. She had lost the love of her life and was left to keep his secret in isolation. I wondered if that would be my fate as well.

Where was Alexander headed? Back to Romania? I'd buy a ticket to Europe if I had to. I'd walk mansion door to mansion door to find him.

I wondered, if Alexander had stayed, what would have happened to him. If the town found out his identity, he could have been persecuted, taken away for scientific research, or paraded around as the top act in a sideshow. I imagined what would become of me. I might be interrogated by the FBI, hounded by tabloids, or forced to live in isolation, forever known as the Vampire Vulture.

I turned to leave his room when I saw a small booklet poking out from underneath his mattress. I took it to the attic window for closer inspection.