No monsters would snatch Isadora away into the night.

So long as Isadora clutched her keychain between her index and pointer fingers, she found it easier to breathe. Easier not to let panic sink its claws in her. Because someone or something had taken Grace.

Just because only men had vanished lately didn't mean their killer-slash-kidnapper would be satisfied with the guys forever. What if-

Footsteps crunched behind her.

Every fiber of Isadora's being seized up in fear, her legs locking and refusing to move.  Refusing to run.  Over the roaring winds, her heartbeat pounded in her ears.  Don't panic.  Don't fucking panic.

Inhaling a sharp and shaky breath, Isadora took a daring gaze back behind her.  She wasn't sure what she expected, but seeing nothing there at all, only made her more anxious. It wasn't much further from her house.  All she had to do was quicken her pace and not look back again.  Simple enough, right?

However, the uncanny sound of something slurping redirected all train of logical thought.  She needed to run like her life depended on it.  Yet, all her mind could focus on was the animalistic sounds of a creature tearing into flesh. Devouring something.  She wanted to pretend it was a wild critter that caught something down in the alleyway of a closed drug store and abandoned boutique.  There was no reason she couldn't just turn around and literally pretend that was all it was.

Until a man came crawling up out of the darkest pits of that hole.  One hand clutching at his bleeding neck while the other struggled to force his body to move up the pavement.  The man parted his lips to speak, but the trauma to his neck made it impossible for any words to come out.

All Isadora could do was gape helplessly at the poor bastard.  Willing her legs to move.  Willings her fucking body to get the hell out of there before she was next.

Another figure emerged from the shadowy depths like a demon herself. Isadora reeled on her feet, the pepper spray in her trembling hand loosening until she fully lost grip of her only weapon.  

Fuck.

Yet the moonlight captured her silky raven-hued hair perfectly. Isadora blinked at the young woman before her, as if that would make the illusion fade.

Blood red lips curved into the most sinfully wicked smile. And she flashed a pair of fangs at her. Sharp pointy teeth that had literally torn into the neck of the poor bastard slithering on the ground like he still had a chance. A smile that had once been so sweet and innocent, taunting by a monstrous bloodlust Isadora couldn't even begin to fathom. It had Isadora conflicted by whether she ought to be afraid or aroused.

The urge to scream rose up in Isadora's throat, but so did the urge to puke her guts out.  This could not be happening. It was impossible. It had to be some sort of fucked up, surreal nightmare.  That's all it was, right?

If she pinched herself or forced herself awake, it would all be gone. Grace was dead. She was certainly not standing before her with some guy's blood staining her once pearly white teeth.

No matter how hard Isadora tried to convince herself it was a nightmare, she knew better. It was real. Her best friend, her secret crush, had somehow come back. And she was hungry for blood. Men's blood.

"Oh, Izzy." That nickname... Only one person really ever called her that, aside from her own family and she was dead. "You weren't supposed to find me."