The key slid into the lock with a soft click, but my heartbeat turned it into an echo chamber. I stepped into the hallway in two strides—the wooden floor creaked beneath me, like it was playing an old tune to mark my late return. Outside, the night hadn't fully withdrawn. A breeze shook a few maple leaves loose, spinning them into the doormat's cracks. Everything looked the same as yesterday, yet I couldn't help but hold my breath, as if the air held some lurking secret ready to pounce.
I tightened my grip around the silver necklace in my pocket, my fingers brushing over the intricate butterfly knot my mother left behind. The only light in the house came from the old lamp in the kitchen. Dad was nowhere to be seen. I clenched my jaw, didn't even take off my backpack, and went straight upstairs, shutting the door behind me. The night was too quiet—like a sudden blackout that s*ck*d all noise away. My mind filled with questions, and my footsteps thudded into the floorboards like I was burying them one by one.
But the battlefield of high school doesn't pause for the truth.
By the time morning pulled me out of sleep, I looked out my window and saw pink toilet paper streaming from the tree in our front yard like a parade for prankster royalty. My lips twitched. The "refined revenge war" with school queen Cassidy Johnson had clearly escalated.
Dylan's text came through at the same time.
—Dylan [7:05am]: "Someone hung a giant cross behind the church. Who did it?"
Me: "Wasn't Lucien, was it?"
His response was a meme of a grinning baby vampire with fangs. I laughed despite myself. Downstairs, I heard the clang of a spatula hitting a pan—Dad trying not to burn the eggs again.
I ran down. "Dad, did you see anything weird this morning?"
He blinked. "Someone stuck a cow head on the sheriff statue again. Maple kids really need a hobby."
This town sometimes treated weirdness like a local holiday theme. But some weird things felt more like a quiet chess match happening in the dark.
Cass clearly hadn't taken the week off.
Outside the school gates, every early bird student was gathered around the latest mystery: the giant wooden cross, taped together and splashed with red paint like it had been stolen off a vampire movie set.
"Liv!"
Cassidy's voice rang out—crisp, confident, as always mixing aristocratic drama with venom. She held a stack of black-and-white photos, her smile sharp with challenge.
"Your podcast up for a courage test? Dare to film at the graveyard behind the church at midnight, Chandler?"
This time she'd brought backup—two cheerleader sidekicks.
I swallowed and used my backpack as a shield. "Afraid you'll trip over your own heels?"
"Relax," Cassidy frowned delicately. "Important people only fall in the rivers of history."
Dylan showed up with his new recording gear in tow. Lucien lingered beneath a tree, his expression unreadable—unsure if this counted as socializing or a public spectacle.
Cassidy glanced his way, something sly flickering in her eyes. "Oh, Lucien. Welcome to Maple's time-honored tradition—Scaring the Crap Out of Cowards."
Lucien raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smile, like he was watching an exotic animal show.
Cassidy suddenly tossed the stack of photos at me. Each one had me photoshopped into some ridiculous vampire version—fangs, cape, glowing red eyes.
"Fresh from the town forum. The 'Liv the Bloodsucker' series. Isn't it artistic?"
Laughter broke out around us. My cheeks burned. Dylan instinctively stepped in front of me, but not fast enough to block out Cass's voice:"Maybe pitch it to Netflix?"
I rolled my eyes and quickly glanced at Lucien. He just watched Cassidy, expression calm, like a gentleman from a different century trying to understand modern circus acts.
"Seriously, can't you use your vampire powers to shut her up?" I muttered under my breath.
Lucien just shrugged. "I don't quite grasp the customs of pop culture pranks."
Cassidy's smug confidence burst into full bloom. She challenged us again, demanding our podcast livestream a midnight visit to the church graveyard to prove we weren't cowards but 'urban legend hunters.'
Dylan suddenly lit up, grabbed one of the fake vampire photos, and declared, "Next episode title: The Cross in the Night. We're doing it!"
"Dylan—!" I gasped.
Too late. He was already working the crowd. "Everyone's invited. Ten PM. See you at the church!"
Cassidy winked at me like she'd just won a war. "Back out and you lose, scaredy-cat."
That afternoon, the wind still swept down Maple Street, broken shadows cast by the abandoned buildings. The daylight felt too sharp.
Lucien walked beside me, calm as ever, his pace steadier than anyone in town.
"Are you really not scared at all?" I finally asked.
His lips curved. "My nights are safer than your days."
"People say you're just playing vampire. Wanna prove them right and bite Cassidy?"
He paused, gave me a glance that looked almost shy. "I haven't mastered American humor yet."
"Don't learn it from TV." I spun my keys on my finger. The necklace in my palm stayed warm like an old memory. "Cassidy's dangerous when bored. If she goes too far, someone could get hurt."
Lucien stopped walking. "Your friend Dylan is brave. And stubborn."
I sighed. "He's the biggest conspiracy nut on the planet. He's tested every local legend himself. Honestly, I think I'm his bodyguard."
Lucien looked off into the distance. A moonlit sadness clouded his eyes. "Some secrets are only safe when kept by the one who holds them."
Night fell like pain. The moon hung low. The church's eaves looked like a vampire's rotting fangs. Maple's old church was tame by day, but at night it felt like a vault for unsolved whispers.
Cassidy, her cheerleader besties, a few football guys, Dylan, Lucien, and I—our ragtag "Mystery Squad"—met at the cemetery gates right on time.
Cassidy wore all black, flashlight in hand, looking like a ghost-hunter cosplay queen. She eyed Lucien, like waiting for a horror film to call "Action."
"Simple rules: first to photograph the giant cross wins. Liv—no podcast editing cheats."
Dylan cleared his throat and raised his recorder. "The clearer the audio, the truer the tale. That's how you document the supernatural!"
I looked around. The storage room door was ajar. Shadows played tricks between gravestones. The wind howled across the grass like a broken violin. Lucien stood still, his presence making everything else feel unnervingly real.
The race began.
Cassidy and her crew charged into the dark. Dylan grabbed my wrist. "Come on! Viral content awaits!"
We ran carefully between graves. Lucien seemed to float ahead of us.
Suddenly—thump—something leapt from behind a tree.
Cassidy screamed, high-pitched as a car alarm. "Who's there?! Stay back!"
I flicked on my flashlight. A crouching shadow came into view—a sophomore boy clutching a box of red-stained rubber gloves. One of Cassidy's prank minions, apparently jumping the gun.
Cassidy scowled. "Who told you to go first?!"
He shrank. "You said prep 'scary props'..."
It was so absurd I almost laughed.
I peeked at the cross. A note was taped to it:
"Urban Legend Hunter Trial — Level One."
Dylan's eyes lit up. He started snapping photos like crazy.
Cassidy, slightly deflated, tried to save face. "Fine. We'll take the props and call it—"
Her words cut off.
The bushes behind her shook hard. A hissing sound followed. Cassidy froze mid-step. Her face went sheet-white.
This wasn't just bad lighting. Something colder was moving closer.
I fumbled for my phone light. Lucien stepped forward like a shadow solidifying. "Don't speak," he whispered.
The rustling got louder. One of the cheerleaders started sobbing. The football guys backed away.
A fox darted out—its mouth stained with red paint from somewhere else.
Nervous laughter burst out.
Cassidy didn't laugh. She stared at Lucien. "When did you get over there?"
Lucien, always polite and mysterious, simply raised a hand in a vague salute. Their eyes met—hers confused, his unreadable.
She turned to me. "Your podcast wins tonight."
The crowd dispersed. The cheerleaders tugged Cassidy away, muttering about bringing baseball bats to the next real haunting. Dylan buzzed with energy, live-stream metrics spiking.
But Lucien kept staring at the cross. Like it meant more to him than it should've.
It was late. Only the three of us remained. The wind turned maps into fluttering ghost faces. Dylan, giddy, urged me to record the episode's conclusion.
"Liv, do you really believe there were no ghosts tonight?"
Before I could answer, footsteps emerged from the shadows.
Marina Graves—dressed in black, skin pale like glass fresh from a freezer.
"Game's over, kids. Time to go home."
Her voice was flat, each word carrying something unsaid beneath it.
Dylan nudged me. "Who's that?"
I grabbed his arm. "The town's... parent rep."
Marina didn't give us time to explain. She looked Lucien over like reading the fine print on a warning label, then spoke one line that chilled my spine:
"This town doesn't like being watched too closely. Be careful playing with fire. You might burn off your own shadow."
The wind picked up, tugging leaves from the branches. Far off, Cassidy's laughter still echoed across the cemetery soil.
Under the streetlamp, Lucien's silhouette stretched long. He kicked a twig like pondering some worry not meant for human hearts.
Dylan clapped my shoulder. "Tomorrow's podcast is gonna explode. Think Cass will hit back with something even bigger?"
I smiled, brushing the wind-tangled hair from my face. The silver necklace lay cool at my throat, pulsing like my mother's whisper.
I glanced at Lucien, his gaze lost in the dusk and that blood-red cross. Something unspoken loomed in his eyes.
The warm light stretched the tombstone shadows. Our footsteps sounded like real people's.
My heartbeat hadn't settled. But I already knew—
Tonight's consequences wouldn't end with tonight.
Maple's legends had just been lit.And the flames inside human hearts don't die down with a passing breeze.