I somehow manage to tear my gaze away from my reflection and turn back to Kalma. My dress still hangs loosely around my chest, untied, and I can tell she's studying me.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be 'eased into this' when all I want is answers," I snap, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth. When my eyes meet hers, I notice the gold flecks in her black eyes shimmering with an unnatural allure. 

"I understand that I'm in a house, that this dress is silk, that my heart should be beating. I can even tie this ribbon and know what a wrought-iron crystal chandelier is. But... I don't know who I am. I don't know my name or how I ended up here. All I remember is darkness... nothing but blackness when it comes to me."

Kalma's eyes soften slightly, though there's no sympathy there. Instead, her voice carries the weight of something older, a wisdom borne of someone who has seen this before.

"It's part of the transformation process," she says, the words slipping out easily. "Your memories and identity are lost. In most cases, they will never return. You will live on with a new name, a new life."

"Transformation process?" I repeat in confusion. Kalma gestures toward the vanity stool behind me with a slender finger, her silent command clear. I sit, though every part of me is reluctant to comply. She leans casually against one of the bedposts, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You have been reborn," she says, her hands moving as though she's presenting a gift. Her tone is light, almost celebratory, as if this process is something I should feel grateful for, not fearful of. "You have a new family, a new life. I'm afraid I can't tell you much about your past. You came to me through a member here."

"Another member here? Who? How did they know me?"

"It is not for me to tell. They will reveal themselves when they are ready. Also, they are not currently in Cambridge."

"Cambridge?"

Kalma nods, "It's where we are now. At Grey House. And where you will stay. Young vamps are not allowed off the grounds unless escorted by a senior. You aren't to be trusted yet and you need to be trained." 

"Young vamps?" I ask as Kalma casually pushes herself off the bedpost. Her gaze flicks down to her black nail polish, the gesture so nonchalant it makes my insides twist with frustration.

"Young vampires," she corrects, her voice flat, as if she's bored with the question already. "You're our newest member, the freshest by a few years. So, naturally, a lot of eyes will be on you as you figure out how to navigate this new life. Don't let them tempt you into their bad behavior. Don't let them fool you into thinking they're your friends."

I'm frozen on the stool, my mind racing, but my body doesn't seem to respond. I'm staring into the nothingness, still trying to digest what she's just told me.

Vampire.

The word echoes in my mind, reverberating through the silence of the room. I don't need to think too hard to know that the word carries weight. I know what it means. In that abyss of blackness, I remember the word. It's there, lodged deep in the shadows of my memory.

"Wait," I whisper, my voice cracking with disbelief. "You're telling me I'm a vampire? A bloodsucker. Undead. A mythical creature?" I can't help but laugh, but it's sharp and desperate. "Here, in Cambridge? And now I'm supposed to just live in a house of vampires?"

Kalma raises an eyebrow, but there's no real surprise in her expression. "Trust me," she says with a faint smirk, "that's not even the most unbelievable part of all this. But like I said, we're easing you in."

She turns, heading toward the door, her body language nonchalant, as if she's done this a thousand times. She pauses, just as she's about to leave, and looks back at me, her eyes glittering with something unreadable.

"I'll send Serena back up to teach you how to feed. Whatever you think you know about vampires... might not be the truth. Stay open-minded," she adds, her voice softening into something that almost sounds like a warning. "Embrace your new life."

She's about to stride out of the room when I pop off the chair. 

"That's it? This is all get. You're a vampire now, embrace it. And I am to trust no one, not even myself?" 

"For now," Kalma replies with a shrug and I interrupt her departure again by asking, "What about my name?" 

"This is your new life. It is up to you to give yourself a new name." She finally disappears into the hallway but I don't hear her footsteps. It's like she evaporated. 

That was all I got for answers?

This cannot be true. The thought echoes in my mind like a scream, but when I glance back at the mirror, my red eyes -bold and glaring- tell me to believe her.

How am I supposed to process this? I'm sitting here, in the dark, half-dressed, with glowing eyes, no name, no memory. I don't even know where I could go. Even if I somehow found a way out of this house, where would I run? There's nowhere. I'm stuck here.

I swallow hard, a knot tightening in my stomach as I finish tying the top of my dress. The darkness presses in, suffocating me. My hands tremble slightly as I smooth the fabric, desperate to hold onto something familiar, but there's nothing.

A rap at the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and Lottie's head pokes in, her expression light, almost amused.

"I'm told I am to babysit you, ma chérie," she announces with a playful smile as she steps inside. "Thought you might like a tour guide. I can show you the house. Have you meet some of the others."

I throw a glance at her, the frustration bubbling up again. "How am I supposed to meet anyone without a name?" Lottie leans casually against the wall, crossing her arms. She shrugs with a grin, her eyes twinkling as I ask, "Did you pick Lottie?"

She nods, the casual smile not leaving her lips. "We figured out I was French by the accent. So, I went to the library downstairs and looked up some French names. Picked Charlotte, but everyone calls me Lottie."

"But you have absolutely no idea where I'm from, or what my name could be?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. She opens her mouth to respond, but then no sound comes out. It's like the air itself strangled her voice.

She snaps her mouth shut, the smile faltering for the briefest moment, and shakes her head slowly.

"Allez, I'll take you to the library, you can peruse and maybe something will spark your interest. I assume you can read." 

"I don't know how you can assume anything about me." 

She drops her arms and nods to the open door, ignoring my snappy reply. 

"I promise you'll learn to like it here. We're a family. We look out for each other and Kalma makes sure we're safe. Come on, no one here will bite you."

I don't move from the stool. The muffled voices below continue to echo through the house, distant and chaotic, but I can't bring myself to join them. I'm not sure if I'm ready to be social. Not when I don't know who I am.

"So I'm just supposed to accept all of this?" My voice cracks slightly, betraying my frustration. "Just step into that hallway and accept this new life?"

Lottie sighs, exasperated but not unkind. "I'll admit, some of us accepted our reality more quickly than others. You can keep stewing here in the dark room, or you can come see the life that's waiting for you."

I look around, the shadows pressing in. This room offers no answers, just more silence. I glance back at her, "Is there a back way to the library we can take? Something quieter... I just need a moment to adjust. And... my throat is still on fire."

"Oh!" Lottie's eyes light up with sudden energy. "Oui, we need to deal with that first." She rubs her hands together, her smile wide, and then, in a flash, she's at my side. Before I can even react, she grabs my hands and pulls me off the stool. "Your first feeding!"

She yanks me out the door before I can gather my thoughts, and I barely keep my footing as she sweeps ahead. It seems Kalma didn't just appear to be gliding- she was actually gliding. Lottie moves with the same speed, and I'm left scrambling to keep up, stumbling over my own feet as I'm dragged down the hallway.

We're moving fast, and the dim light barely illuminates the wooden floors beneath us, the plush runners softening our hurried steps. Paintings of stoic men and women line the walls, their gazes unblinking, but I don't have time to focus on them. Lottie is already shoving open a door, leading us into a narrow space that hides a spiral staircase.

"Servant's staircase," Lottie mumbles and I am unsure if my feet hit any of the cement steps leading us below. 

We tumble out of the narrow stairwell into a massive kitchen. The familiarity of the space irks me, particularly the gas stove against the far wall and the cast-iron and copper pots and pans hanging from racks on the ceiling. I recognize the cookware, but the simple fact that I know these things and yet still don't know my name frustrates me.

"I thought vampires didn't eat... food," I say, my gaze wandering over the butcher block countertops, cluttered with dried herbs and discarded knives.

Lottie flicks her eyes toward me, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Don't pretend you know anything about us."

I hesitate, before asking with a glimmer of hope, "Oh, so you don't drink blood?"

Her smirk shifts into something more sinister, and I immediately regret my question.

"Oh, no. That part is definitely true," she replies, her eyebrow arching in amusement. We continue gliding toward a set of pantry doors. I brace myself, half-expecting to see someone strung up inside, tortured by vampires.

To my surprise, Lottie releases my hand and then pulls open the wooden doors. Relief floods over me when I see row after row of what looks like wine bottles. She reaches into the middle of the shelf, pulls one free, and then spins around to snatch a golden goblet from a rack of glasses hanging on the stone wall.

She pours a small amount of liquid into the goblet, handing it to me.

"This will help with the burn and the glow," she points to my eyes. "It doesn't take much, so don't drink too much. Otherwise, it has the effect of alcohol." She hands me the goblet and I look at the velvet-colored drink inside. 

"Where is this from?" I ask with a grimace. It looks like a Merlot but I know it's not. 

"Don't worry, Trish makes sure it's clean. It's probably deer or rabbit." 

"Not human?" I ask in surprise and she laughs. 

"Oh no, your first taste cannot be human. Human blood makes us a bit crazy. It's like shooting narcotics into our veins. The comedown is awful, sometimes takes weeks to wear off." 

"So I won't have to...ya know...bite anyone?" I ask and Lottie giggles. 

"I can't tell the future, but no...not for a while at least." She glances at the goblet in my hand and encourages me to raise it. My throat is on fire and I don't know any other remedy at the moment. 

"It's like...a Cabernet Sauvignon," she adds as I hold the goblet near my lips. I catch a whiff of some spice and am suddenly less repulsed. It's like my body now understands that this is vital. 

I glance at Lottie who is eagerly watching and bring the goblet to my lips. I tip my head back and thrust myself into my new life.