The strange woman was pale. Almost white. Her skin contrasted sharply with her jet black hair cascading over her shoulders. She carefully cradled Laura's mother in her arms. Stillness reigned.

At the sound of their approaching footsteps, the woman looked up at Laura and her father. Laura realized she was mistaken. The stranger looked less like a woman and more like a frightened young girl. Her dark eyes locked onto Laura's. They sucked her in, drowning her in a whirlpool of emotions. Grief and fear inundated her, filling her lungs, leaving little room for air.

Laura pointed wordlessly. Her father turned to look. A heartbeat. The calm before the storm. And then it shattered. He let go of Laura's small hand. Roared like a bull. Charged at the girl holding his wife.

She disappeared.

Laura blinked slowly, confused. Her father stopped in his tracks. He looked around wildly before running to Laura's mother. Throwing himself to his knees, he tore open her blouse. His fingers desperately scrabbled over her wrist, her white neck. Searching for a pulse. But finding none. Only cold skin, and two small holes. Punctures. He tried resuscitating her mother—no, her mother's body. It stayed limp.

The sun beat down on them.

Laura stood rooted to the spot. Seconds trickled by. Turning into minutes. Lengthening into hours. Stretching into eternities. It was her father who broke the stillness. He slowly rocked back onto his heels, running his hand through his hair. He looked at Laura. She was crying, tears running down her face in rivulets. His own eyes were dry, his grief too great for tears. He tiredly bowed his head.

And spoke.

"Vampire."

Laura didn't understand. But she remembered.