Lights blazed on. Was it just Hannah’s imagination or was the light actually growing stronger? The door banged. This time, Hannah was awake and had expected it. She saw the boy appear in front of her closet, materializing out of nowhere. She blinked her eyes, her blood roaring in her ears, trying to fight the panic welling up inside. Whatever he was … he wasn’t human.

“You again,” she called, trying to feel brave.

He turned around. He was wearing the same clothes as the two nights prior. He gave her a sad, wistful smile. “Yes.”

“Who are you? What are you?” she demanded.

“Me?” He looked puzzled for a moment, and then stretched his neck. She could see the wound just underneath his chin more clearly this time. Two punctures. Scabby and … blue. They were a deep indigo color, not the brownish-red she had been expecting. “I think I’m what you call a vampire.”

“A vampire?” Hannah recoiled. If he were a ghost, it would be a different story. Hannah’s aunt had told her all about ghosts—her aunt had gone through a Wiccan phase, as well as a spirit-guide phase. Hannah wasn’t afraid of ghosts. Ghosts couldn’t harm you, unless it was a poltergeist. Ghosts were vapors, spectral images, maybe even just a trick of the light.

But vampires … There was a Shelter Island legend about a family of vampires who had terrorized the island a long time ago. Blood-sucking monsters, pale and undead, cold and clammy to the touch, creatures of the night that could turn into bats, or rats or worse. She shivered, and looked around the room, wondering how fast she could fly out of bed and out the door. If there was even time to escape. Could you outrun a vampire?

“Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of vampire,” he said soothingly, as if he’d read her mind.

“What kind would that be?”

“Oh you know, chomping on people without warning. All that Dracula nonsense. Growing horns out of my head,” he shrugged. “For one thing, we’re not ugly.”