Nocturne

by Karina Halle

Then I see it. A figure stands in the shadows across the street, the ember of a cigarette glowing briefly as it takes a drag. His face remains hidden, but something about his posture—the stillness, the focus—tells me he’s watching my window. Watching me. I let the curtain fall back into place, heart hammering against my ribs. Is it one of the Europeans? One of Cohen’s men? An obsessed fan? Or just a man having a smoke who happens to be looking in my direction.

If my best friend was killed by a stalker and then some dude was watching me outside my window I'd check myself into the psych ward immediately

After she’s gone, I sit in the gathering darkness, spreading the photos across my desk. Elizabeth Short smiles up at me, unaware of her gruesome fate. In the corner of one photo, her friend—Lena Reid—looks directly at the camera, her dark eyes seeming to hold a challenge. Find me, they seem to say. If you dare.

Me when I'm schizophrenic

I’m not sure if I should be worried or not. After all, he might be my stalker.

she's just saying anything atp

“Smarter than people gave her credit for. And kind, genuinely kind, not the Hollywood version where it’s just another performance. But she was also…” She trails off, searching for the word. “Naive?” I offer. “Desperate,” Lena corrects. “For recognition, for stability, for someone to see her as special. That’s a dangerous combination in this town.”

Trust me its still dangerous in the big 25

“Lena,” he calls, not bothering to exit the car. “A little birdie told me you were here. Lucky I was in my office. Come on. Let’s go.” She doesn’t immediately move, her eyes still on mine. For a moment, I have the strangest sensation of something passing between us, a strange familiarity.

“You think you’re clever, huh?” His voice is dangerously low, the way it gets before the storm breaks. “You think my boys don’t tell me when some detective comes sniffing around my girl?”

Can u get away u freak

Victor Callahan. Even his name feels reverent in my mind. There’s something about him that unsettles me—not just his slight immunity to my influence, but something deeper. A familiarity I can’t place, like I know him somehow.

“I like a protective man,” I tell him. “Not sure I need one, though.” “I have feeling you don’t know what you need, dollface,”

Doll face 😂😂 (restrain me)

“There was a table here,” Callahan says, crouching to examine the floor. “Heavy. Left these scratches.” I kneel beside him, careful not to touch the stains. “How can you see that in this light?” He glances up, momentarily confused, then shrugs. “Good eyes.” Too good, I think, filing away another anomaly about Victor Callahan.

Buddy ur a vampire u should be able to spot that he's also a vampire when he clearly has the same powers as u 😒

Elizabeth with Lena Reid, seems the same day as the other photo Virginia had given me. I examine this photo more closely. The two women are laughing, arms linked, standing outside what looks like a diner. Casual, genuine happiness—not the posed glamour of Elizabeth’s other photographs. I pocket it, telling myself it’s evidence.

Me when I lie 😂

Yet as I drive home, her image remains before me—proud posture, knowing eyes, secrets written in the curve of her lips. And beneath it all, the nagging sense that Lena Reid is somehow key to understanding not just Elizabeth Short’s murder, but something about myself. Something about who I am.

There’s nothing professional about what’s happening between us. Nothing appropriate about the raw hunger that rises when I think of her. And nothing rational about the certainty that she feels it too.

The blood continues to flow, impossibly copious, reaching toward my bare feet. I press myself against the opposite wall, heart hammering in my chest. Then, without warning, the bathroom door swings open. A scream dies in my throat, my heart threatening to break free of my ribs. Empty. It’s completely empty. No blood. No intruder. Just my small, ordinary bathroom, exactly as I left it before going to bed.

Yeah lemme just turn schizophrenic real quick

He leans forward slightly, and I find myself mirroring the movement, drawn by something beyond physical attraction. Is this fate? I can’t help but think as I find myself sliding toward him, my thoughts feeling muddy, my body seeming to move on its own accord. Is this inescapable?

“You’re staring,” Lena says without looking at me, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Professional habit.” I exit the car and circle around to open her door. “Observing people.” “Is that what you call it?” She steps out, her movements fluid despite her obvious fatigue.

Something flickers across her face—surprise, perhaps, at being so thoroughly read. “Do you think any girl in this city should feel safe?” “Maybe the ones who know the right people.” “And are you the right people?” “I can be. For you.”

“Lena Reid,” Abe says, “may I present my good friend Valtu Aminoff.” “Dracula,”

VALLTUUU POOKIE

Valtu gives me a languid smile. “With a body like that, you can call me whatever you’d like, love.”

Not Lena being exactly his type Boy go find ur gf 😒

Not Callahan, I think, then wince when I realize he probably heard me. Valtu grins, like he solved a puzzle. It’s alright. We all have our little things when it comes to love. I don’t think either of us knows a thing about love, I tell him. A look of sadness comes across his brow. You’re probably right. I’m still looking for her in every face I see.

I'm going to eat my Kindle

“You don’t know anything about me or my situation, Callahan. You don’t know what I’ve survived. What I’ll do to keep surviving.” “Then tell me.” I step closer to her, drawn by some force I can’t resist. “Let me help you.” For a moment, something vulnerable crosses her face, a yearning that mirrors my own. I saw that same yearning in her eyes last night, when she let herself give in to me.

“I hate to sound cliché, but you truly need to stay away from Callahan. Whether he killed Marco or not, he’s dangerous to you now. And if he’s dangerous to you, he’s dangerous to all of us.” I nod, but as I follow Adonis to the guest rooms, I can’t help but think of Callahan—of the heat of his hands, the intensity of his gaze, the way he made me feel both protected and desired. Human or vampire, killer or protector, he’s become entangled in my fate. And I in his. Whether either of us wants it or not.

Wilder. Hungrier. And his scent, beneath the metallic tang of blood, is something new, something I should have recognized before but never have. The distinctive scent of vampire. Impossible.

took her 44% of the book to figure it out even though it was obvious after like 6% #IQof5

I should push him away. Should call Abe immediately. I’m in literal danger. But my body loves danger.

Girl.

I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him—with a famine that matches his own, a recognition that goes soul-deep.

“Abe, he’s adopted. He’d told me that much. Doesn’t know anything about his birth parents.” Another silence, this one heavier. “There’s more,” I admit, the words difficult to voice. “I think he might have murdered Elizabeth.”

genuinely where the fuck did she get this idea from like not a Single sign has pointed towards him killing betty

He flicks the stopper off and flings the contents directly into Lena’s face. Acid. She screams, hands flying to her face, the sound cutting through the murmur of the bar like a knife. I react without thinking, drawing my gun and putting a bullet between Gold Tooth’s eyes before he can reach for his own weapon.

The way his INSTINCTIVE reaction was to immediately kill him with out second thought

“Did I kill Elizabeth Short?” The question escapes before I can stop it, the fear I’ve been carrying since my first blackout finally voiced. Lena hesitates, then shakes her head. “At first that was my worry too. But I don’t think so.

Literally what is this fuckass connection between Callahan being a vampire and betty being murderer because it makes no sense

All these years thinking I was broken in some fundamental way, when really, I was simply different by design. I can’t help but stare at Lena, my heart pressing against my ribs. And when she stepped into my life with her secrets and wanton smile, it’s as if finally belonged somewhere. With her.

“And if it turns out I’m her killer?” he asks. I step closer to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “Please. Stop. You’re not. I know you. The real you. Not just the detective, not just the vampire, but the man beneath it all. The man who killed Marco because of how he treated me, the same man who shot dead others who hurt me. A man who would protect me against all odds. That man couldn’t have planned and executed these sick, ritual murders.”

much about love?” “Mmmm,” I say, not liking where this conversation is going. “You still believe that?” “More than ever.” He gives me a sly smile. “But you are in love with him. I can tell.” “I am not in love with him.” He sighs. “Fine. But what’s set in motion cannot be stopped.

“Lena. What I said the other day is true. You’re young. For a vampire, you’re very, very young. You don’t yet realize what immortality is. You haven’t felt the way time stretches between your fingers, like dough, never breaking. You haven’t seen your loved ones die, time and time again, while you soldier on, cursed to keep going.”

Valtu my pookie 😞

“You see this as a curse?” He grimaces. “If you’re unlucky enough to fall in love with a human, then yes, it’s a curse.” “This person you lost…” I begin. “They…she…is irrelevant right now,” he says. “We’re talking about you, darling. If you fall in love with this Callahan, then don’t resist it. Hang onto it. He will come around eventually, if he’s not already there. Who knows, you might be the key in bringing his two halves together. And if takes time, so be it. You both have all the time in the world.”

“What are you?” he gasps, terror replacing the tough-guy façade. Valtu smiles, revealing extended fangs. “The monster under your bed.” His voice carries the weight of ages, of the very legend that inspired his literary counterpart, before he buries his teeth in the man’s neck.

#needthat

As I button my shirt, I catch her watching me in the mirror, her expression unreadable. “What?” I ask. She shakes her head slightly. “Just…trying to reconcile all the different versions of you I’ve seen. The detective. The man. The vampire.” “Yeah? And which one do you prefer?” Her eyes meet mine in the reflection. “They’re all you, Callahan. All parts of the same whole. And I don’t want just one piece. I want it all.”

“If I’m AB negative…” “We’ll find out,” I promise. “And if you are, I’ll protect you.” Or die trying.

One of the men calls out, “Callahan! Mr. Cohen wants a word with you and the broad.” “Tell Cohen to make an appointment,” Callahan calls back, his voice steady.

😛

Konstantin laughs. “You don’t even know who you are, what bloodline you carry⁠—”

🤔

Something fundamental has shifted between us—a trust established, a boundary crossed, a connection forged that can’t be undone. For a moment, we simply exist in that connection, neither moving nor speaking. Then, with infinite slowness, his hand rises to my face,

Time loses meaning as we lose ourselves in each other. The shabby motel room fades away, leaving only this connection, this moment. The hunger that drives us is more than physical, more than vampiric—it’s a recognition of something rare and precious, a completeness neither of us expected to find.

We lie together in the quiet darkness, two young predators finding unexpected solace in each other’s arms. Outside, the world waits with all its dangers. But for now, in this shabby motel room with its flickering neon light filtering through threadbare curtains, we’ve found a moment of peace. A moment that feels, against all odds, like coming home.

Ezra and Adonis work in tandem, their skill evident in how they anticipate each other’s moves as they take on multiple opponents. And Valtu—Valtu is Dracula. With terrifying grace, he tears through the Ivan’s’ forces, his face a mask of focused fury. Blood spatters his clothing, none of it his own.

Callahan nods, already turning to face the next threat. We stand back to back, creating a unified defense as more of the Ivanovs’ followers converge on us. Fighting alongside him feels natural, instinctive—as if we’ve done this a thousand times before. I can’t help but flash him a smile. He smiles back, fangs and all.

😛

Tatiana’s shriek of pain rises above the chaos. Valtu doesn’t pause, driving his fist through her chest with enough force that his hand emerges from her back, clutching her still-beating heart. “Send my regards to hell,” he says coolly, before crushing the organ in his grip.

“Tatiana,” I say slowly, making a face. “Katya. They’re his sisters?” Abe nods. “Yes.” I grimace, my stomach growing queasy. “Something wrong?” I shake my head. I’m not going to get into the fact that his sister did some questionable acts with Callahan, right in front of me. Thank god she’s dead.

none of the shocking information in this book is as close to as bad as this 😭😭 the ivanov's Freaked Outtt

monitoring our marriage? You didn’t⁠—?” “An unfortunate necessity,” Dmitri interrupts. “You needed to be free of attachments, needed to be in Los Angeles for the next phase, to come home to us. Your wife’s death accomplished both.” For a moment, the world goes white with rage. I strain against the restraints with every ounce of strength I possess, metal creaking under the pressure. “You murdered her,” I snarl, my voice unrecognizable even to myself. “You murdered my wife.”

OMG

The last thing I see before surrendering to the darkness is Dmitri’s triumphant smile, certain and cruel. Be a good son. Bring me Lena Reid. And may God forgive me for what I’m about to do.

I need to go crawl around in my attic

I need to remain aware, to look for any opportunity, any weakness in their plan. Callahan will come for me—I know this with bone-deep certainty.