Eric's grip on the phone tightened as his mother's voice came through, sharp and shrill with disbelief.
"Eric?!"
A beat of silence. Then the sound of the phone nearly slipping from her hands, followed by a loud rustling.
"Oh my God—oh my God—Tom! TOM!" She wasn't speaking to him anymore. She was screaming, her voice breaking, raw with emotion. "It's him! It's Eric!"
More scrambling. Muffled voices in the background. Then his father's voice, gruff but shaken. "Eric? Is it really you?"
Eric swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His fingers clenched around the phone. He had expected something—anger, maybe. Accusations. But not this. Not the sheer, gut-wrenching desperation in their voices.
"…Yeah." His own voice came out quieter than he intended. "It's me."
A choked noise, like a sob caught mid-breath. His mother again. "Where are you?! W-We've been looking for you for months! We—God, we thought you were dead!"
His father cut in, steadier but no less frantic. "We called the police. We put up posters, Eric. Everywhere. Online, in town—everywhere. The whole community was looking for you." A sharp inhale. "And now you just—call?"
Eric closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his palm against his temple. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. He had been gone for months. It wasn't that he hadn't realized it—he had. But hearing it out loud, hearing the weight of it in their voices, made it real in a way he hadn't prepared for.
The dead man's blood was still warm in the air. The distant sound of flesh tearing, of Alaric indulging in his meal, echoed behind him.
And here he was, on the phone with his parents like nothing had changed.
"I—" He hesitated. He didn't know what to say.
His mother was crying now, gasping between her words. "Where are you? We'll come get you—just tell us where you are, sweetheart, please—"
His jaw clenched. No.
He couldn't go back. He wasn't the same person who had disappeared. He had blood under his nails, darkness curling in his veins. And behind him, Alaric was still feeding, still reveling in the kill, a stark reminder of the world Eric had fallen into.
"…I just wanted to let you know I was alive," he said finally, voice flat. Detached.
His mother made a sound—half a sob, half a desperate breath. "That's not enough! Eric, you need to come home—"
His father's voice, firmer. "Where are you?"
Eric exhaled slowly. He had no answer for them. Or maybe he did, but it wasn't one they'd want to hear.
Behind him, Alaric finally spoke, his voice as smooth as silk, tinged with amusement. "Oh, what's this?"
Eric tensed, but Alaric was already there, peering over his shoulder with an infuriatingly smug expression. He had blood smeared across his lips, a casual elegance in the way he leaned in.
"Family reunion?" Alaric mused, his crimson eyes flickering with something wicked.
Eric turned sharply, yanking the phone away from Alaric's grasp.
His father's voice came through, sharper now. "Who the hell was that?"
Eric didn't answer.
His mother's voice cracked. "Eric, please—"
Eric swallowed hard. His pulse pounded in his ears.
Then, quietly, he said, "I have to go."
His mother sobbed. His father cursed under his breath. But Eric didn't wait for their reply.
He ended the call.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then—Alaric chuckled. "Well, that was tragic."
Eric didn't look at him. His hands were shaking, but whether from anger or something else, he didn't know.
Alaric tilted his head, watching him closely. "They thought you were dead," he drawled. "And yet, here you are, perfectly alive." A slow smirk curled at his lips. "For now, anyway."
Eric's jaw tightened. He turned toward the truck, shoving the phone into his pocket. "We're leaving."
Alaric merely grinned. "As you wish."
But the amusement in his eyes said it all.
Eric might have ended the call, but he wasn't free of it.
Not yet.
Eric's thumb hovered over the end call button. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have called. He should've left things as they were, let them believe whatever they needed to believe. He wasn't their Eric anymore.
But before he could hang up, his mother's voice suddenly changed.
The raw panic gave way to something else—something quiet and trembling.
"Eric…" she whispered.
His breath stilled. "…What?"
"There was a man," she said, barely above a whisper. "He came to the house."
The world around Eric narrowed. The sounds of the night faded. "What do you mean?"
His father exhaled sharply, as if steeling himself. "A few weeks ago. Maybe more. We—we don't know what he wanted, but he asked about you."
Eric's pulse pounded against his ribs. "What did he look like?"
His mother hesitated. "He was… beautiful." The word came out choked, uncertain. "But in a way that wasn't right. His skin was pale—so pale, like paper. And cold. God, Eric, he was cold." She inhaled shakily. "I-I touched his hand by accident, and he felt like a corpse."
Eric's stomach turned to stone.
A vampire.
His breath hitched, barely audible, but his father must have heard something in the silence.
"Eric," he said carefully. "Do you know who he is?"
Eric's mouth felt dry. His mind raced, searching for an answer, but there wasn't one—not one he could give them.
His mother's voice cracked. "We told him we didn't know where you were. He—he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. And then he just… left. No car, no footsteps. He was just gone."
Eric gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles ached.
His father's voice was gruff, filled with unease. "Eric. If you're in trouble—"
"I have to go."
"Wait—"
He ended the call.
The night air felt suffocating.
He stood there, phone still in his grip, his mind a mess of tangled thoughts.
Someone was looking for him. A vampire.
And now his parents were involved.
Eric's breath came fast and shallow. The weight of the call pressed down on him, but before he could even process it, a cold shiver crawled down his spine.
Something was watching him.
His body tensed. The night was still, but the kind of stillness that made the hairs on his arms rise. Slowly, he lifted his gaze toward the trees.
There—just beyond the reach of the dim porch light—stood a figure.
Tall. Motionless.
At first, the darkness obscured him, blending his form into the shadows of the trees. But as Eric's vision adjusted, details emerged. A man, impossibly pale, his skin almost glowing under the thin sliver of moonlight. His long, black hair fell over his shoulders, framing a face that was both beautiful and wrong.
And he was smiling.
A sharp, eerie grin stretched across his lips, too wide, too knowing.
Eric's stomach twisted.
The man didn't move, didn't blink. Just stood there, staring.
The air felt heavy, charged with something unnatural. A sickly coldness seeped into Eric's bones, his body screaming at him to run—to move—to do something.
But he was frozen.
Then—he moved.
It wasn't a step. It wasn't a shift of weight.
One moment he was standing at the edge of the trees. The next, he was closer.
Much closer.
Eric stumbled back, his breath catching in his throat. His heart slammed against his ribs.
The man's grin only widened, his head tilting slightly, as if he were amused.
Eric barely managed to tear his gaze away. His trembling fingers fumbled with the door handle—he nearly tripped over himself as he shoved it open and slammed it shut behind him.
His chest heaved.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then, in the darkness beyond the window—
The smile was still there.
A voice, smooth and laced with amusement, cut through the suffocating silence.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Eric. Or something worse."
Eric nearly jumped out of his skin. His breath hitched, his pulse still hammering in his ears. He spun around, his wide eyes landing on Alaric, who leaned against the wall with infuriating ease.
There wasn't a single crease of concern on his face—just that usual lazy smirk, as if Eric's terror was nothing more than an evening's entertainment.
Eric swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. He could still feel the weight of the man's stare from outside. That smile.
"Shut up," Eric muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite. His hands were clammy, his body still tense.
Alaric tilted his head, his smirk deepening.
"Now, now. No need to be rude. I'm just wondering what had you looking like a deer in headlights."
Eric clenched his fists, not wanting to admit it. Not wanting to say the words.
But the image burned in his mind—the pale man, the too-wide grin, the way he moved.
Eric took a slow, steady breath, forcing the panic down. He couldn't afford to lose his head now. That thing—whoever he was—had been watching him. Studying him.
His grip tightened around the phone before shoving it into his pocket. He turned to Alaric, his voice firmer now. "We need to move. Quickly."
Alaric raised an eyebrow, amused. His expression didn't change, but there was something unsettling in the way he observed Eric—like a cat watching a cornered mouse.
"Oh? And here I thought you wanted to stay a little longer. Take in the sights." His tone was lazy, teasing.
Eric shot him a glare. "I know where we are now. I don't know the exact location of the place, but we need to get moving before—" He cut himself off, not wanting to say it out loud.
Alaric's smirk widened as he pushed off the wall. With an exaggerated stretch, he rolled his shoulders, then turned toward the path ahead.
"Then what are we waiting for?" His voice was light, almost playful. He glanced back at Eric, a glint in his dark eyes. "Let's go home."