𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐦

Act I, Scene VIII

Much against her will, Lucy quivered.

"Lucy Penn," he murmured. "What a pleasure. I am called Virgil. And I am here–" he glanced up at Dr. Reed "–because I know what is causing the fog."

Lucy blanched. She considered Virgil with new fascination, his lack of manners forgotten.

"You do?" she asked. "You know? What is it?"

"Ohhh, not so much a what as a who..." Virgil said, turning Lucy's hand over in both of his. He caressed the inside of her wrist with the tip of his elegant nose. He inhaled deeply. "...and you have already met him."

The blood in Lucy's veins turned to ice. She ripped her hand away from Virgil, holding it to her chest like it had been scalded.

"The Nosferatu?" she whispered.

"Yesss," Virgil confirmed. "I have been looking for him. It was the scent of his venerable blood in your veins that brought me here. It was he who made you."

It was a statement. Not a question.

"You– You can smell my blood?" she stammered.

Virgil grinned. "Oh, yes. It's strong. Potent. Robust..." He inhaled again, making a performance of it. "Tyro though you may be, your maker is the better part of three millennia old, and very powerful. Your vampiric potential may be without limit."

Dr. Reed bristled. "That's enough, Virgil. Miss Penn doesn't need to hear such things. Not yet."

Virgil regarded Dr. Reed with a cool stare. "She's stronger than you give her credit for, Thomas."

"I am aware of her strength," Dr. Reed said, holding up a hand. "I am also aware of how shocking information such as this can be if not delivered at the opportune time. There are many things she should know, the grotesque details of which need not be breached tonight. Truth is well and good, but truth without tact can be damaging."

Lucy placed a soft hand on Dr. Reed's arm, pacifying him.

She turned to Virgil. "Are you saying that, with practice, I could be stronger than either of you?"

Virgil laughed, and Dr. Reed threw up his hands.

"Aren't you a precious creature?" Virgil exclaimed. "No, no, our abilities and strengths cannot be compared, dearest. I am not a vampire."

Lucy's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You're not?"

Dr. Reed shoved his fingers through his hair. "Heaven, deliver me."

"No, I am not." Virgil smirked, pointedly ignoring Dr. Reed's distress. "I am a dhampir."

Lucy's eyes widened. She knew that word. She'd read about it. It was foreign. The Balkans. Yes, Balkan and Asian literature. But it couldn't be real. Those stories were legends. Folklore.

Yet...

Only one short month ago, she'd have sworn with absolute certainty that vampires were nothing more than folklore. How wrong she had been.

"A dhampir?" she repeated. "But...that would mean your existence is the product of–"

"–the coupling between a male vampire and a female mortal," Virgil said, completing her sentence. He appeared both impressed by her knowledge and amused by her shock. "Yes. That is correct."

Lucy gaped at him, astonished. "Is it possible?"

"It is," he verified. "Although, very rare."

She stared at Virgil's face, studying the impossible perfection of the porcelain countenance before her. She knew what she was seeing, and she knew what her instincts were telling her. The unearthly beauty and presence of this man could be explained no other way. He was what he claimed to be. To attempt to prove otherwise would be a fool's errand.