JENNIE

No mysterious visitor appeared to darken my doorstep the next morning. No parcel arrived, stuffed into the mailbox. Either I was losing my touch when it came to dramatic gestures or blood-soaked letters didn't pack the same punch of urgency they used to. Almost as if…

Well, almost as if Lisa Manoban wasn't lurking in the shadows, watching me.

At least one person did seem interested in my welfare, considering they called almost daily, leaving a message each time.

"Ms. Kim, this is doctor Goodfellow. I am still waiting to hear from some experts in the field about your case. I hope to have an answer soon…"

"Ms. Kim, I've received the results of your last blood test. We should schedule another appointment immediately…"

"Ms. Kim, doctor Goodfellow again. I must ask if you are a government official or in possession of some kind of high-level security clearance, because accessing an opinion on your case at all seems to involve an unusual number of hurdles…"

Lisa Manoban had left a void in my life that even one of the best doctors in the country couldn't fill—and she refused to offer any explanation as to why. But I didn't scream, or cry, or fall into hysterics at the possibility of being ignored. Instead, as any uncaring socialite would, I simply wrote her three more letters, each one colder than the last. Four more. What they said didn't matter, just what they symbolized. Nagging. Desperation. Taunting.

I never needed you.

I never wanted you.

I don't dream of you. Every night. I don't imagine slapping you. Punching you. Hating you.

I don't think of you.

Meaningless words. No matter what, she wouldn't have the last say. I would drown her in parchment if I had to. Anything to prove I had already caught on to her little game.

Because I'd come to the conclusion that she was trying to kill me again. How dreadfully uninspired.

I barely had the energy to care. Oh, no, Lisa didn't consume my sole attention. I was much too busy tending my household. There were sheets to change. Puddles to mop. Floors to wear down by pacing circles over them. Most of the time I spent pacing in Mr. Tinkle's room, muttering to him as he watched from his corner.

"It doesn't matter," I insisted, my hands clenched at my sides as I stormed across the Persian carpet. "It doesn't. I mean, even if she is that stupid L.M. donor, I don't care if she ever shows up at all. All she'd want is that stupid book, anyway. Right?"

My cat flicked his tail lazily through the air and blinked.

"Exactly!" Groaning, I paced faster, swaying as my stomach roiled with every erratic movement. "I mean it's not like… It's not like we were a real…" I gritted my teeth rather than hiss the word couple. "It was a transaction. I knew that… I know that."

My future partner—should the universe decide not to make me a spinster—would be a creature far different from Lisa Manoban. Some smug rich aristocrat who would fall hopelessly in love with my wallet. Together, we would suffer a bitter, stiff existence within Kim manor until the day he slipped too many sleeping pills into his nightly brandy.

It was the wholesome, ideal partnership my parents had modeled.

"It wasn't like I even liked her," I added, slowing to a stop. What woman would? Who would consider someone who looked like a pale Adonis attractive? Especially when she ran hot and cold. One minute she claimed to be only interested in money. The next, she had you pinned to a wall, demanding you submit yourself to her fully.

The memory stole into my thoughts, so potent it tore the breath from my lungs. Her mouth on mine. Her hands, ruthlessly grasping at parts of my body. Her inside me…

Shaking my head, I banished the images. "Who would want that?" I croaked, turning to Tinkles. He extended his tiny forelimbs into a laborious stretch and promptly darted deeper into his corner.

"I wouldn't," I whispered, watching him go. "I don't need anyone. I need… I need to get out of this house."

Every second spent within the ancient dwelling heightened a growing sense of paranoia. That I was being watched, followed and haunted, despite all evidence to the contrary. The walls themselves seemed to be hissing to me, a million admonishments. Secrets and lies.

This was all some elaborate trick, obviously. I wasn't really sick. These symptoms were designed to make me seek her out on my own, placing myself right in her trap. Because that's all she really wanted: revenge. Or, more specifically, payback of something more vital than money.

And she would never, ever find it—her precious contract secretly in my possession.

In retaliation, she wanted me panicked and desperate. Paranoia was her goal. Just like before she'd waltz right in with all the answers.

And I would be ready for her.

The following day, the phone in the old servant's alcove rang, breaking the monotony. I took my time answering it. Dr. Goodfellow was probably desperate to deliver another vague update as to my health status.

Sighing, I held the receiver to my ear, prepared to humor her. "I hope the test results came back conclusive this time—"

"Hello?" someone replied and I nearly dropped the handset in response. He was… Well, he was male. "May I speak to Ms. Kim?"

I held my breath, my fingers tightening over the rim of a nearby table as a single thought set in. Not her. I was still sane enough to know that much.

This caller wasn't an ageless figure with a musical baritone and a laugh like the devil. Considering I wasn't the type to get phone calls from strange men, there was only one explanation for this occurrence.

"I'm sorry," I stammered. "Rosé isn't here. However, I could take a message if you'd like." Though only God knew when she might receive it.

"I beg your pardon," the man replied. "But I'm looking for Jennie Kim."

My eyes narrowed. "Why?" Rudeness, aside, it was a valid question. No one ever asked for me. Certainly not by name. Unless, of course, they had souls to buy and sell.

Or money for whoring themselves to an heiress.

"My name is Gabriel Lanic." His suave tone betrayed him as someone used to schmoozing with the upper class. "I'm the chairman of the board of directors at St. Mary's—"

"Oh, y-yes," I croaked, fighting to stamp the suspicion from my tone. "How can I help you?"

"I heard from one of our doctors that you were interested in becoming a core donor?"

Color me impressed; despite such a bold assumption, Mr. Gabriel Lanic managed to sound more charming than money hungry.

"Um, I was," I admitted. "To be honest, I was more interested in learning more about the board members—"

"I'm afraid that I wouldn't be able to divulge much out of respect for privacy."

"Oh, I see—"

"To the typical donor, anyway," he added, before my disappointment could solidify. "Frankly, Ms. Kim, your family name carries a prestige I cannot deny. While I may not be able to divulge much, no one could blame me if a few details managed to slip over dinner. How does eight o'clock sound?"

"D-Dinner?" I gagged at the thought of food, smelling it, seeing it. However, the promise of answers was more than enough to combat the nausea. For now. As long as Mr. Lanic proved my hunch once and for all, he could set a meeting wherever he damn well pleased. "That sounds fine. I mean, y-yes. I mean…"

"I hope you are partial to Italian. The Maria is excellent," he said.

Thick red sauce came to mind and I cringed at the imagery. Still, I managed to choke out, "Wonderful. See you there."

Four hours later, I left the house looking somewhat presentable. For the first time in days, I'd brushed my hair. I even put on a dress, a demure black one my mother had picked out, complete with a modest neckline. When I joined François in the Rolls, I almost felt…at ease?

My stomach was in knots during the quick trip into the city, but for an entirely different reason than usual. Excitement? Hope? Who knew. The only thing I was sure of, as the car pulled up before an exclusive restaurant downtown, was that if Mr. Lanic could give me the answer I wanted, then he could slap his name on Kim Manor for all I cared.

Two words. That's all he had to say. A name. Validation of my paranoid delusion. Evidence to out the person so proud of her own damn mystery that she'd never see me coming.

My blood hummed as I stepped from the car and approached the restaurant's gleaming front. A tendril of unease raced down my spine though I couldn't explain why. It was beyond breathtaking as far as venues went. Glass doors revealed a posh interior, but a man appeared to block my path before I could even make it inside. A professional black suit and tie separated him from the wealthy patrons mingling within the establishment behind her. Given how he cocked his head toward the earpiece tucked inconspicuously behind his ear, I suspected he had been sent to escort me personally.

"Ms. Kim, I presume?" he asked, proving my suspicion correct. "Your companion is waiting. May I show you to your table?"

I nodded, following him inside. A spacious lobby opened onto an intimate space beyond the main dining room with bold burgundy walls and polished floors. Such an obscene display of wealth. My mother would faint at the sight.

Mr. Lanic had gone all out in the hopes of impressing his prey—only one table had been set, strategically placed in the center of the room. No other patrons were dining nearby.

We were alone.

My chest tightened as I spotted the lone creature waiting for me in the center of the room. His back was to me, his build impressive. His hair…black? Not golden.

Disappointment fluttered through my chest as his voice reached back to me.

"Ms. Kim." He turned in a display of poise, flashing a gallant smile no vampire would ever be able to imitate. "I am Gabriel Lanic. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," I croaked, regaining control of my senses.

So, he wasn't Lisa Manoban, mysterious benefactor extraordinaire, though he rivaled her in charm. A warm smile offset his handsome Roman features. Dressed to the nines in a tailored Kim suit, he didn't seem like the type who'd sold his soul for money and prestige, either. I sensed no air of ice, and the hand he extended for me to shake was warm.

As far as my past year was concerned, he was a rare entity—a handsome, rich human.

"Care to join me?" He nodded toward the table.

Silently, I took the seat across from him, and he offered me a business card laden with his personal information.

"Shall we begin?" He'd come prepared, apparently, armed with enough history on the hospital and its various charity enterprises to charm a room full of donors into emptying their pockets. Never once did he mention trading in souls or the like. Instead, he listed target figures and waxed ad nauseam as to the reputation of my family.

So generous we were.

So honorable.

Lies, but delivered so expertly I almost believed them.

"I would be more than honored to receive your investment, Ms. Kim," he concluded. "I would hate to seem forward, but have I managed to woo you?"

He winked, and like a good wealthy checkbook, I reached into my purse on command. It was only as my fingers ran over a brittle piece of parchment that I remembered the question that had brought me here in the first place.

"Your donor list," I blurted, brandishing my brochure opened to the right page. "There's one figure listed by only the initials. Can you tell me the name?"

He leaned forward and brushed his hand over mine while he read. "Why, I believe that is Lucas Michael," he said with a pleasant laugh, sitting back. "He tends to be too mysterious for own good. I could arrange for you to meet if that would put you at ease, though I would be loath to share your company—"

"No." I shook my head and swallowed down the lump that had risen in my throat. "That's not necessary."

Somehow, I had known, even before he'd delivered his answer, that it wouldn't be what I wanted to hear. No, perhaps wanted was too strong a word. What I needed to hear. That was how paranoid delusions tended to work out, didn't they?

One healthy dose of reality could make it all fall apart.

"Have I disappointed you, Ms. Kim?" Mr. Lanic wondered. He reached out, his fingertips sweeping upward to bat a loose strand of hair from my face. He must have misjudged the distance, because the tip of his thumb grazed my throat instead.

I flinched back, shaking my head. "No. In fact—" I withdrew my checkbook and scribbled a one in the farthest corner of the amount line. Meeting Mr. Lanic's inquiring gaze, I pushed the check toward him. "Forget I asked. All that matters now is…how many zeros should I add onto this figure?"

Once the poor man returned his eyes back to his skull, I wrote the amount he requested without a second thought. After all, if I were dying, at least my family's name might grace some bench or fountain at St. Mary's to commemorate our benevolent nature. I choked out a laugh, picturing it. It was the only legacy my family could hope I'd pass on. No children or heirs to carry on the name, but an inscription: From the gracious Kim Family to the whole of the city…

"Ms. Kim? Are you all right?"

"Huh?" I looked up to find Mr. Lanic staring at the pristine tablecloth in front of me.

Or, at least it had been pristine. Three ruby drops now decorated the space beside my plate.

"I'm f-fine." I scrambled to my feet, snatching my checkbook from the table. "I should go—"

"What on Earth?" Lanic frowned, his gaze on something behind me. "I apologize. I insisted upon privacy."

"What?" I turned, catching a glimpse of an intruder, who was already storming out through the doorway, their posture more confident than the average server. Bolder. Not to mention that they allowed the door to slam in their wake, which rattled the wooden frame. Perhaps the restaurant owner coming to bill me for the damage?

No. What little of features I saw were too impressive for the average person. A luxury suit. Golden hair. Skin like ivory. And a spicy, wintry scent that lingered in the air, tainting my every breath. Either tall, blond in Armani were becoming a regular occurrence or…

God, it was too dangerous a word to process at the moment. Or.

"I was assured this was a premier venue," Lanic groused. "I can have the manager move us to a more private—"

"I-I have to go." I lunged for the door, aware of movement behind me.

"Ms. Kim?" From the corner of my eye, I saw Gabriel start to stand. "Wait!"

I was already in the lobby within seconds, gasping for air. My rib cage had a vise grip on my lungs. My legs were jelly. I almost turned back in search of a chair before I made a fool of myself and fainted.

Obviously, I'd hallucinated.

As if to challenge that thought, the sound of a slamming car door brought my attention to the valet out front. Someone was climbing into a car: black, sleek, imported, and most definitely expensive. I couldn't see the owner's face through the tinted windows as I staggered from The Maria's entrance. Then drove off, and I had only enough sense to race toward my own vehicle, parked paces away.

"Ms. Kim?" François gaped as I clambered into the front seat.

Then I spit out the most words I'd spoken to him since the day he'd been hired. "Follow that damn car or I will drive this thing myself!"

Already, our quarry had pulled off and woven through traffic nearly a block ahead.

"Okay." François wrenched on the wheel, launching into a pursuit. For all his politeness, my new driver must have driven more than spoiled heiresses in his day. People who valued reckless speed. He tore through alleys and side streets, easily narrowing the distance between us and our prey.

But even he wasn't fast enough.

"Damn!" He slapped the wheel as the other car sped off through an intersection before we could follow. "I'm sorry, miss. Let me try to—"

"Let me out." I tugged on the door handle only to find it locked. "Let me out!"

I slapped the window until he finally unlocked the doors. Even as my heart raced, my strength failed me. It took everything I had to shoulder the door open and climb out. While I staggered down the deserted block, François resisted the flow of traffic to keep pace.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I called back, putting all my focus into walking. Moving. You can do this, Jennie. You've come too far, now. "Go—please! I'll…I'll find my own way back."

I didn't look to see if he obeyed my instructions. I simply urged my body forward through sheer force of will. Step by step. Sidewalk square by sidewalk square.

How ironic. I knew this part of the city—a rarity for me, despite having lived here my whole life. For instance, this road was one of the few I'd driven on myself. I knew the darkened park to my left. And I especially knew the cathedral looming above.

In the darkness, it watched my approach like a disapproving remnant from a past life. The life of a girl who consorted with vampires. Who'd sold her virginity to one. Who'd let herself be poisoned, tricked, and humiliated by one.

The stupid, foolish woman who might have even trusted one.

I shook off the thought as blurriness disrupted my vision and the gothic structure split into two. With every step, my body swayed, tossing my shadow over the path beside me. My breaths grated on the air, noisy and useless. I was weightless. My trembling hands grasped at my sides, desperate for stability.

By the time I reached the cathedral proper, the grounds were deserted. A lone streetlamp cast the only light to see by as I approached the mouth of the structure. The door remained closed, the sign still nailed to it. When I traced my fingers over its surface, they came away gritty with dust.

Well, you were wrong, a part of me hissed as I slumped forward, pressing my sweaty forehead against the wood. You chased a shadow.

But the funny thing about shadows was that they couldn't be stopped by something as mundane as a wooden door. A door that budged the slightest inch beneath my weight…

The wind picked up, tossing my hair around as if in warning, before I even palmed the wrought-iron handle. I pushed once, expecting to find resistance.

It opened easily, issuing a weary creak as if mourning its failure.

One peek over the threshold revealed an empty, cavernous interior with abandoned pews. Some entity took care to preserve the space, however. When I placed my foot on the wooden floor, my shoe didn't slide over a coating of dust.

Someone had been here.

Yet every ounce of sanity I still possessed warned me to turn back. To not push the door open wider or inch my way inside.

To run.

Because I had nothing to prove. And even more harrowing to admit—I had nothing to gain. Just more questions with no fitting answers. Like, if Lisa Manoban was lurking within the city, then why wait so long to come collecting?

I owned part of her life, after all. Ten whole years. The devil herself shouldn't have been playing hide-and-seek while waiting for me to find her.

She should have been barging into Kim Manor like she owned the place, demanding I give her what I now owned.

Her goddamn soul.

Shaking the thoughts away, I took another step. Thickened air irritated my nostrils and set off the reaction instinct could not—I recoiled. Harsh, rattling coughs forced me to cling to the door. Another set robbed me of balance altogether.

Light. Dark. The conflicting shades speckled my vision as everything spun and dissipated. Twisted. Faded.

And all I saw before the world went black was vibrant, terrible gold.