Venomous Attraction

Unburied Tales

The library was nearly empty, its usual hum of activity replaced by the faint rustle of pages and the occasional creak of wooden chairs. Desiree sat at a table in the far corner, hidden behind a stack of dusty books she’d gathered from the restricted section. The air smelled of paper and ink, tinged with the faint metallic tang of history itself.

The journal in front of her was old, its leather binding cracked and faded. Its title, etched faintly into the cover, read Memoirs of the Crescent Bay Hunter: 1762. She hadn’t meant to find it; it had fallen from a shelf when she’d been reaching for another book, landing at her feet as though fate had intervened.

She flipped through its pages, her heart racing as she read the author’s account. The writer, one Father Elias Verdon, had been a priest in Crescent Bay two centuries earlier. But his journal was not a record of sermons or church business—it was a catalog of horrors.

-November 12th, 1762

The creature appears human at first glance—charming, elegant, even noble. But it is a mask, a facade to hide its true nature. Beneath lies a predator, a demon who feeds on the life of the innocent. I have seen its work: bodies drained of blood, their faces frozen in terror. It is the work of a vampire.”

-December 2nd, 1762

I encountered it tonight, though I dare not say I survived. Its eyes burned with a terrible hunger, its voice as smooth as silk. It called itself Adrien. How many lives it has claimed, I cannot say, but I am certain of one thing: it must be destroyed.”

Desiree stared at the page, her fingers trembling as she traced the faded ink. Adrien. The name leaped off the page, tangling itself in her thoughts. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

But vampires weren’t real. They were myths, legends passed down to scare children or entertain the curious. Crescent Bay was an ordinary town, steeped in history but hardly the backdrop for supernatural tales.

And yet…

She thought of the way Adrien moved—so fluid, so precise. She thought of the way his voice seemed to linger in her mind, the strange, unearthly energy that surrounded him. And she thought of the way he’d looked at her, as though he were holding back some great and terrible truth.