trick-or-treating for me this year.
Rhianna took a seat before the mountain of student essays waiting to be graded and became resigned to the fact that she would be sitting out the holiday this year. Her life was bound to change one day, but it would happen once she was done with her studies and she could come up for air from time to time. In the same way that a fire needed oxygen to keep burning, an active social life required an investment of time if it was to flourish (and if it was to include a boyfriend who didn’t end up in bed with her best friend).
While Rhianna debated how she would break the news to Natalie (she hated flaking out after giving her word), she decided to seek comfort from another energy drink. The museum vending machine didn’t carry Monster, but she might be able to hunt down a Rockstar.
With this thought in mind (and realizing she was procrastinating), Rhianna made her way to the nearest vending machine. Moments later, the machine was sucking up her dollars and she had made her selection. The act was followed by the reassuring thunk of the machine giving up one of its goodies. Rhianna scooped up her drink, a Full Throttle. The brand wasn’t her first choice and felt a little like a consolation prize, but it would do for tonight.
Who needs sleep anyway?
She decided to head back to the office by taking a shortcut through the Celtic exhibit. And that’s where she ran into the longhaired individual in the leather jacket.
Her first thought was to alert the guards but there was something in the man’s face — maybe it was the combination of his swarthy good looks and sad, forlorn eyes — that gave her momentary pause. But once she had earned the man’s undivided attention, those eyes weren’t sad any longer but regarded her with unflinching intensity. He looked menacing (even though he was still a hottie) and she regretted not going with her first instinct and calling security.
To Rhianna’s stunned surprise, her mind still had managed to form words and string them together into questions. But instead of providing answers and identifying himself, the man remained silent and kept staring at her. He was acting like a creep but weirdly enough, Rhianna wasn’t creeped out.
The man finally turned away from her, still not having uttered a single word, and beat a hasty retreat.
Rhianna stared after him, strangely intrigued. As he disappeared down a bend in the corridor, she headed in the opposite direction, on her way back to her father’s office. She was navigating another wing of the museum, this one dedicated to Celtic armor and weaponry, when a squishing sound drew her attention.
Rhianna peered down at her feet and realized she was standing in a pool of blood. Stunned, she backed away, terror taking root within her. Sitting atop a mannequin's body was the head of the young security guard who smiled at her earlier.
Rhianna let out a choked gasp. “Oh my God...” She was still retreating from this horrific display when the voice behind her made her grow stock-still.
“It is strange to see my past as entertainment of the future.”
Rhianna whirled toward the speaker and stopped dead, her body growing rigid. A chiseled bald man with brutal features stood before her. She couldn’t stop staring at the webbed scar tissue of the man’s empty eye socket, a fleshy crater that seemed to exert a hypnotic spell over her.
The intimidating figure had addressed her in ancient Gaellic. Being of Irish ancestry and having spent a year abroad as part of a student exchange in high school, Rhianna had mastered the old language a few years back. At the time, her linguistic pursuits had been motivated by her desire to fully decipher some of the older texts her dad kept in his extensive library.
Cael advanced with animal grace, sword in hand, blade leveled at Rhianna’s throat.
Unable to utter a single word, gripped by horror, Rhianna took a step backward but Cael was
Rhianna took a seat before the mountain of student essays waiting to be graded and became resigned to the fact that she would be sitting out the holiday this year. Her life was bound to change one day, but it would happen once she was done with her studies and she could come up for air from time to time. In the same way that a fire needed oxygen to keep burning, an active social life required an investment of time if it was to flourish (and if it was to include a boyfriend who didn’t end up in bed with her best friend).
While Rhianna debated how she would break the news to Natalie (she hated flaking out after giving her word), she decided to seek comfort from another energy drink. The museum vending machine didn’t carry Monster, but she might be able to hunt down a Rockstar.
With this thought in mind (and realizing she was procrastinating), Rhianna made her way to the nearest vending machine. Moments later, the machine was sucking up her dollars and she had made her selection. The act was followed by the reassuring thunk of the machine giving up one of its goodies. Rhianna scooped up her drink, a Full Throttle. The brand wasn’t her first choice and felt a little like a consolation prize, but it would do for tonight.
Who needs sleep anyway?
She decided to head back to the office by taking a shortcut through the Celtic exhibit. And that’s where she ran into the longhaired individual in the leather jacket.
Her first thought was to alert the guards but there was something in the man’s face — maybe it was the combination of his swarthy good looks and sad, forlorn eyes — that gave her momentary pause. But once she had earned the man’s undivided attention, those eyes weren’t sad any longer but regarded her with unflinching intensity. He looked menacing (even though he was still a hottie) and she regretted not going with her first instinct and calling security.
To Rhianna’s stunned surprise, her mind still had managed to form words and string them together into questions. But instead of providing answers and identifying himself, the man remained silent and kept staring at her. He was acting like a creep but weirdly enough, Rhianna wasn’t creeped out.
The man finally turned away from her, still not having uttered a single word, and beat a hasty retreat.
Rhianna stared after him, strangely intrigued. As he disappeared down a bend in the corridor, she headed in the opposite direction, on her way back to her father’s office. She was navigating another wing of the museum, this one dedicated to Celtic armor and weaponry, when a squishing sound drew her attention.
Rhianna peered down at her feet and realized she was standing in a pool of blood. Stunned, she backed away, terror taking root within her. Sitting atop a mannequin's body was the head of the young security guard who smiled at her earlier.
Rhianna let out a choked gasp. “Oh my God...” She was still retreating from this horrific display when the voice behind her made her grow stock-still.
“It is strange to see my past as entertainment of the future.”
Rhianna whirled toward the speaker and stopped dead, her body growing rigid. A chiseled bald man with brutal features stood before her. She couldn’t stop staring at the webbed scar tissue of the man’s empty eye socket, a fleshy crater that seemed to exert a hypnotic spell over her.
The intimidating figure had addressed her in ancient Gaellic. Being of Irish ancestry and having spent a year abroad as part of a student exchange in high school, Rhianna had mastered the old language a few years back. At the time, her linguistic pursuits had been motivated by her desire to fully decipher some of the older texts her dad kept in his extensive library.
Cael advanced with animal grace, sword in hand, blade leveled at Rhianna’s throat.
Unable to utter a single word, gripped by horror, Rhianna took a step backward but Cael was
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