For the first time ever, Naomi Fall was purposefully skipping school. As a young child she had hated school, she found it boring to sit and repeat basic concepts again and again long after she herself had absorbed them. As such her grades had been middling even though her teachers all said that she was very bright. In the end the only solution had been to send her to a more elite secondary school where she wouldn't be so bored.

Even at eleven years old, Naomi knew that her parents couldn't afford the tuition for her secondary school. So she never, ever took it fore-granted. From that age studying became the most important thing in her life, if her parents were going to sacrifice so much to help her succeed then she was going be the most successful that she could be and by fourteen she had halved her tuition through scholarships.

It didn't hurt that she didn't have any friends. Even though she was surrounded by other bright young women who excelled academically she always felt that she lacked the basic common language needed to fit in. She couldn't afford the same interests as the other girls and so she buckled down even harder until she could go to the boys' grammar for sixth form and by the time that she did she wasn't that bothered about making friends anymore anyway.

Until she found out that she was dying.

Only having another ten to twenty years really put into perspective how much time she had wasted.

And that's when she had met Arran. Lazy, entitled and just like the dozens of other rich boys who had gotten into the school as a child and hadn't had to fight their way in like she had. But he was sat with James and she had overheard them talking the previous year; a consistent stream of witty banter about nothing in particular. And that had been exactly what she wanted to talk about: nothing.

But they had ended up talking and when she spoke he looked like he was really listening. It felt like the first time anyone had truly paid her any attention. When he looked at her it was like he could see inside of her and the connection had shocked her. Especially coming from beyond his bloodshot, hungover eyes.

As their relationship had developed she often worried that she made excuses for him simply because he was the first person that showed her any personal attention. She would tell herself that it wasn't his fault he had to be so secretive all the time. Or that he couldn't help it if he was a little out of touch because his family were rich.

It was a hard habit to drop and she was still doing it weeks after she had left him.

She had told him her deepest darkest secret and he had told her a lie, so why did she want to call him all the time? There was no such thing as vampires, so why was she scouring buried forums on the internet to read about people who said they had met one? She had already wasted so much of her final year of school on Arran, so why was she skipping a day to go to a meet-up from one of those forums?

Pushing these questions to the back of her mind she listened for the front door of her house to close, telling her that her mother had left for work. She stayed under the covers for another twenty minutes, just in case either of her parents came back for any reason, and then finally got dressed.

She had never done anything like this before. She didn't sneak around or lie to her parents or anything like that. But she wanted to put the final nail in the proverbial vampire coffin and convince herself that these people she'd met online were crazy, and that Arran really was lying.

All sorts of animals could regrow tissue, human children could even generate new finger tips after amputation. Arran had some kind of previously unlocked healing gene, buried deep within the human genome until his mysterious mother had activated it in a secret lab somewhere in Italy. That must have been closer to the truth than him being some sort of mythic demon.

Why couldn't he have just told her the truth?

Eventually, her heart beating hard, she built up the courage to leave the house, convinced that somehow her parents would find out. She wound her long braids into a bun and tucked it awkwardly under the hood of her jacket in a vague attempt to disguise herself. Not that any of her neighbours would likely be watching and even if they were they would have no reason to tell her parents that she was leaving the house. Still, she didn't feel calmer until she reached the train station and got on the train to Blackpool.

On the train she checked in with James. He had tried in earnest to convince her not to do this but eventually relented and agreed not to tell Arran. If she didn't check in with him again by noon he would call the police. She knew better than to meet with a load of freaks from a forum and not put precautions in place.

The meet-up was apparently aimed at those who believed in vampires and werewolves and were seeking proof. The forum itself had been a mix of those who claimed to know supernatural beings and those who wanted to. They all sounded crazy to Naomi.

Nonetheless, she still headed out away from the train station to find the run-down hotel that the meeting was taking place in.

It took her a long time to walk all the way out to the hotel, which was attached to a service station with a disused petrol pump and generally looked like it was a few months away from closing. There were workers at the reception, though, which calmed her nerves somewhat. She made a deliberate attempt to ask one of them where the function room was, even though it was obviously just off from the small lobby, just so that she had a witness to say that she went in there.

She had arrived late and so managed to sneak into the back of the room fairly undetected. Looking around, she could see about thirty other people, most dressed in tawdry goth regalia and sitting in small groups, fiddling with their cheap plastic cups of squash out of awkwardness.

There was a portly, middle aged man standing at the font of the room trying to get the outdated microphone to work and behind him was a projection screen displaying a flickering power-point presentation with a discoloured image of Nosferatu.

Naomi could have kicked herself. This hadn't even been worth the train fare. This wasn't proof of vampires existing at all, just a bunch of losers who wanted to play pretend. She took a seat and a cup of lemon squash, deciding to at least sit down before the long trek back to the station. Whoever had made the drink had put far too much cordial in the water as it was far too strong but she drank it anyway, thirsty after her walk.

The presentation droned as the man had no idea about public speaking and the sound system kept crackling. He began with the same reasoning that Naomi had read over and over again on the internet: why would so many cultures have reoccurring myths independently if they didn't exist? Naomi had a few, more academic, theories on this that went beyond the existence of the supernatural.

At around the twenty minutes mark, as Naomi was well and truly tuning-out from the poorly researched and delivered lecture, a ripple of shock moved through the room as the sad group of truth-seekers reacted to something that she'd missed.

"I don't even believe in all of this shit," the speaker was saying. He was wide eyed, as if he couldn't believe he was saying this out loud. "You idiots donate so much money for me to fund these meet-ups and only a quarter of it ever goes to the events, I just take the rest home."

A man at the front of the room laughed loudly and stood to clap slowly but the rest of the room stayed where they were. Naomi wondered why they weren't more outraged but all they seemed to do was mutter to each other. She had just about decided to leave the tragic event as the clapping man approached the podium.

"That's just hilarious!" said the younger man, placing his hand on the fraudulent organiser's back and pushing him forward. "You go take a seat man, you're done."

The original speaker stumbled forward, still seemingly in shock. The new man adjusted the microphone so that it fit to his taller height and smiled widely at the audience. Naomi thought that she might recognise him, maybe from a photo on the forums.

"No worries, ladies and gents," said the man with an American sounding accent. "I'm here to tell you that vampires and werewolves are actually real. As is magic, including that little potion you've all been drinking. It effects people to different degrees but it does have this little side effect that makes people more honest so judging by this asshole's confession I'd say it's probably worked on most of you by now."

There were more murmurs around the room but nothing more. Naomi's limbs felt heavy but her sense of dread outweighed the sensation. Something had been put in the free food and drink and while she didn't believe that it was magic she now noticed that something was wrong with her.

A few people were standing now, but they looked like they were enjoying themselves, laughing at the rest of the crowd who were largely looking dumb-struck. Something was very, very wrong.

She tensed the muscles in her legs experimentally, trying to gauge if she could stand up. It took more effort than it should have done but she thought that she should be able to get up. She took very careful stock of the situation. The standing group were casual, in no rush to do whatever they were going to do. The man at the front had said that whatever they'd put in the food effected people at different rates so maybe they were waiting to be sure it had properly taken hold.

She was right near the door and the group were clustered at the front of the room. If she could get back to the foyer she could get help.

She bolted.

She threw her entire weight into the doors to the function room. Her limbs didn't want to follow her brain but she forced them to and stumbled into the corridor. Barely made it five meters before coming to an abrupt stop.

The American man was standing directly in front of her. He had managed to get all the way from the other side of the room and in front of her quicker than she could get to the foyer and without her even seeing him. She didn't give herself time to scream. She just span clumsily to run in the other direction, but he was there too.

He was terrifying. He had long incisors that forced his jaw into a ravenous looking overbite, the corners of his mouth turned up to make the whole expression a horrible grin.

But then it changed. A flash of recognition went across his eyes and he dropped his aggressive stance, lapsing into an easy-going posture. He smiled brightly, as if greeting an old friend.

"I know you," he said casually. "God, what are the odds."

She realised where she knew him from, he was one of Arran's old friends who had turned up at his party. Now that he was smiling at her with a warm and genuine looking expression he looked more like he had then. This did nothing to calm her down.

She tried to take a few steps back but then he was behind her and she walked right into him. She had absolutely no hope of evading someone so fast. She had to find another way out of here. There was still two hours until James was expecting her call.

Gavrail grabbed her by her shoulders and twisted her around so that they were facing each other and held her in place.

"Boo," he said with a laugh. "Sorry, sorry, I know I'm fast. It's cool, right? I'm terribly sorry but I can't remember your name, what was it?"

"Naomi," she answered. She felt compelled to tell him. Hadn't he said that the potion or whatever would make her more honest?

"That's it! Well Naomi, I'm Gav and it's so nice to see you again. Here of all places! I'd love to catch up, but I don't want any interruptions. Tell me, does Arran know that you're here?"

She bit her tongue for as long as she could. It was entirely possible that James had told Arran what she was doing, even though she'd asked him not to.

"Maybe," she managed to say with considerable difficulty.

The corner's of Gavrail's falsely friendly grin dropped slightly. He pushed her back into the hallway wall as if she was a cardboard cut-out of herself with no weight and no resistance. His hand went to her throat and lifted her upwards.

"You know, I've got to give you props for this incredible show of willpower. Getting so far out of the room, trying to run even when you know you can't...yeah that's pretty cool," he said, his face back to an almost convincing convivial expression. "But that vague shit is annoying, Naomi. So tell me the truth, is there a Redfern calvary on the way?"

She shook her head. Her own weight was pulling her down against his hand and she was finding it hard to breath. She grabbed at his fingers, tying to pry them from her throat. She couldn't beat his incredible strength but he watched her attempt with a frown.

"Colour me genuinely impressed little human, you shouldn't be able to try to fight back. Not that I need you under a spell to overpower you." As he spoke he lifted his arm again, taking her whole weight in his hand and taking her feet clear of purchase. "Next question: have you drunk any of Arran's blood lately? Or any vampire blood, before you go looking for technicalities."

She shook her head again, her mind beginning to swim a little from panic and lack of oxygen. She could hear commotion in the next room, a few shouts and yells that were quickly cut off.

A moment passed. Naomi couldn't breath.

He put her back on her feet and gave her a chance to gasp for air before re-tightening his grip.

"Leave it to Redfern to not know how to have any fun. But that's okay, Naomi, because you're with me now and I'm a hoot."

He called a few of the others to him and they talked as if he didn't have her pinned to the wall by her throat. She wasn't strong, especially not with whatever was stopping her from controlling her movements in her system, but this guy was unmovable.

She couldn't believe it, vampires really were real.

And she was stuck in the clutches of one.