Page 32 of Little Fangs

Misty leapt ahead of me to the side of the house, near a small pile of crunchy deep orange leaves.

I stepped on my tiptoes behind her, following while attempting to be quiet. Crunching a single leaf underfoot had her turning her head back and squinting at me. She meant business, and that business was hunting.

This was what I’d been waiting for. This was the lesson I needed to learn.

Quiet stalking. Finding prey. Attacking.

I focused my ears on all the delicate sounds around us. The squeak of mice. The little heartbeats. The birds in the trees. The wind whipping leaves from branches. I tried not to hear everything—I was quickly overwhelmed into panic from it.

One final pounce and Misty had her prey. One mouse in her mouth, another two of them under her heavy paws, as if she’d saved one for me, and another for Harlan. She chowed on the one in her mouth, glancing back at me.

I gave her a thumbs up, then heard a strong heartbeat. I turned; nobody was behind me. But someone was coming up to the cabin. It wasn’t Harlan. He would’ve come back in the truck, and his heart wouldn’t have been pounding this strong.

Slowly, like I was hunting, I walked around the other side and spotted them. Dressed in all black, heaving a sack on their back.

I did what Misty did, sniffing the air, and I caught something.

Muriel. The distinct floral smell, almost like dish soap. She was one of the human familiars who’d helped at the manor. In her late-sixties, I’d watched her grow old while I stayed the same. Of course they were going to use her. She wasn’t compelled to abide by the same rules of the universe that vampires were.

She walked right up to the door and knocked, putting the large rucksack on the ground.

Misty was at the other side of the house, staring at me. We watched Muriel, her heart beating furiously in my ears. I couldn’t hear anyone else, but I still looked around, trying to listen or see for anyone approaching.

The moment I stepped out, Misty pounced and hissed at her feet.

“Master,” Muriel said, trying to flee Misty as she clawed a hole in her stockings.

“Muriel,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“They—they said they thought you were still in town,” she said, in a slight dance to keep Misty from slashing through more of her clothes. “I didn’t believe them. I—I—”

“Why did they send you?” I asked, my voice becoming hoarse.

“They didn’t. I—”

“Leave,” I snapped.

She dropped to her knees, palms together, up in the air. “Master, they’re going to kill me if they know what I’ve done.”

I could feel it in her chest that she’d done something against them, the way her heart was panicked, and the way she’d been unable to control herself. She wouldn’t stay if she didn’t have to. “What have you done?”

“I couldn’t handle it,” she said.

“You should’ve left with Ludmila,” I said.

“Ludmila wouldn’t have me,” she said, placing her hands now on the ground, pushing her hands into the dirt. “And now I’m too old. They need too much of me.”

“Leroy and Sonya are still there,” I said.

She nodded. “I—” Her sniffles created an unnecessary appearance of snot. “I brought your things.”

“What?”

“Your—your things,” she said, gesturing to the bag. “I tried to get as much of it as possible. I did.”

“Muriel,” I said, shaking my head. “They’ll kill you.”

“Save me,” she said, blinking tears down her cheeks, turning her eyes a bright shade of green against their bloodshot appearance. “Please.”