“No,” I laughed. I knew I was beginning to lose my mind. I clutched my hands to my head, and pressed the palm of my hands against my temples to get rid of the horrible pain that suddenly pierced through my ears. “I think I’m insane, and you’re my insanity!” I glared at him, still laughing, having a breakdown right there on the couch. “Especially you. You don’t exist! Cytherea? She doesn’t exist either! You’re just—… a voice in my head! You’re all in my imagination, and I’ve read too many vampire novels. No. My cousin was right. I’ve read far too many novels, period!” I groaned. I wanted to pass out from the pain.

All this time, Cytherea lay motionless on the sofa. Legs together, tilting ever so slightly to the left, in an inclined position; much like a French porcelain doll. Her eyes were shut, and I could simply not stop looking at her. They were both so real! There wasn’t the slightest bit of emotion in her. No shock, no surprise, only an expression of deep understanding, and pity towards me. “You can’t expect the child to believe in all you’re pouring down on her.” She sighed, a bit of a Mediterranean accent lingering in her words. “You’ve confused her. Our existence is but a myth to these mortals, and she’s having a perfectly human reaction.” She opened her eyes, and looked directly at me, her fierce eyes piercing my despairing gaze. They were hazel, yes, I already knew that, but in all the time I spent contemplating her features, I never noticed the various shades in between the spectrum from brown, to olive, to amber, and blue. They were absolutely beautiful, and it wasn’t long before I became drowsy, falling spellbound to the color of her eyes— the delicate fierceness of her gaze.

I must’ve passed out, since when I opened my eyes, it was 6:22 AM, and Cassian had come by around 11:00 PM, along with Cytherea, the latest addition to the Nightwalker coven. I was in my bedroom for some reason, yet I didn’t seem to remember waking up at any moment, and shifting from my studio to the bedroom. Had Cassian carried me and tucked me in? I immediately headed back to the studio, never mind the fact that my hair was an absolute mess, my glasses were still on the night table, and I was still wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of boxer shorts, and an old T-shirt with paint splotches all over it, now dried up, and probably permanent.

There was a note adhered to my computer screen, written in elaborate cursive writing I had a hard time deciphering.

My Dearest Samantha,
Please forgive the ill-mannered behavior you witnessed last night. I should have been more considerate of you. I apologize for the lack of tact, and sensitivity I displayed. I wish to make it up to you . Over a cup of hot chocolate perhaps? I’ve noticed your dislike for caffeine. Meet me at The Witching Hour an hour after the sun sets. We have matters to discuss.

Sincerely,
Cassian, the imaginary voice in your head

Good God… what the hell is going on?! I took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of myself. No, you’re not insane, and no, he’s not imaginary. Quit overreacting, you didn’t make him up! I spent over an hour trying to make sense of things. Was I insane? Deranged? Delusional? None of the medication I took said anything about hallucinations. I was talking to people who weren’t there; who didn’t exist, and apparently now, I knew how to write in flamboyant cursive writing.

I ripped the note from the computer screen. It looked real. It felt real. But was it? All trace of logic and reality had been obliterated. I had gone to The Witching Hour, and befriended Death. I had gone to The Witching Hour, and had gotten myself involved with a Vampire. And to think months ago I used to write stories about vampires, witches, ghosts, and what not, thinking it was all fiction.

“Oh, not at all, my dear!” He’d said to me, ordering a couple of hot drinks. He would have the same thing I would, he said— a cup of hot chocolate. “Take a look around you. Especially here. This place is plagued! I could pin point a couple vampires right here, right now. Witches too. See that woman over there?” He pointed to a young woman sitting next to a tall man near the counter. They were both redheads, blue-eyed. “ The woman with the white tank top and red stripes… you know, the one with the short denim skirt, white heels, and a bow tying up her hair? Yeah, she’s a witch. And so is the man she’s having a drink with. Her brother, I believe.” He said nonchalantly, as if seeing witches, and vampires sitting at a café drinking coffee was the most mundane thing in the world. “ Angels, demons, werewolves, vampires, spirits… the list goes on, darling. They walk amongst you everyday.” Our drinks had arrived, and I was staring at this man, this…lunatic. I could’ve simply walked away. I had no intention to stay more than a couple minutes. “So you’re telling me that you’re a vampire, and that everyone here is some kind of… mythical being?” I asked. I was… shaken, to say the least. Not at the thought of him being a vampire, but rather at the thought of him being some sort of psycho. Great idea going to a random coffee shop without so much as an escort in a completely new town. The worst part was that he looked like your average young adult male! Black hair, blue-green eyes, I hadn’t paid much attention to him. I was too busy getting familiar my surroundings.