Mina still hadn’t returned home. She’d never been one to take long walks but tonight it felt very much like the thing she had to do to make progress.

It was nice to be beneath the stars like this. It was dark and moonless, the air was pleasantly cool and the leaves had barely turned yellow yet. Summer still wasn’t quite over and the world seemed incredibly peaceful in the windstill dark. All of it only made Mina notice her own restlessness more. She inexplicably felt like she had forgotten something—like there was something she should be doing. It was the feeling she had been feeling all day, ever since the first earthquake. Ever since she’d talked to the young student.

The young girl had turned out to be nothing more than the dealer’s ex-roommate. She hadn’t even known why he had skipped town until Mina had told her. It had been easy to see that the girl was nothing but an innocent bystander from the moment she’d laid her eyes on her. But something had compelled her to question her further. Mina hated to admit it, but part of it might just have been how attractive she’d found her. She hated herself for it. It was so goddamn unprofessional. Even if Mina didn’t have a wife of seven years, ogling witnesses ten years her junior was just...

just...

She blinked.

“What the fuck,” she said flatly to herself as she looked around in suprise and suddenly realized where she was.

She was back on campus.

She spun around, disoriented. She was standing in the middle of the campus lawn, surrounded by faculty buildings, having no idea when she’d gotten there. She looked around to find her bearings and her eyes fell on the brightly illuminated yellow-and-red banners of Renford Museum that were advertising an upcoming Aztec exhibit. Apparently she had blindly walked past the museum, cafeteria and several faculty buildings, heading for the library on the far side of campus. How the fuck did she get so utterly lost in her thoughts? How had her feet carried her all the way here without a conscious decision? She looked at the time on her phone. It was well past midnight.

How the hell have I been walking around for FOUR hours?!

A stiff breeze picked up and crept into her thin jacket, bitingly chilly. She huddled up and considered what to do next. She definitely wasn’t going to walk all the way back home. How the fuck did this happen?

She decided to make her way to the library because it was the way she had already been going and because it was the shortest way to the edge of campus anyway. She was just about to order an Uber when a voice behind her made her jump.

“Hey,” the voice called out from behind her, and she nearly drew her gun in startlement. She spun around, and cursed loudly.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Oh God, Sorry,” said Samantha Collins.

Mina did a double take. “You,” she said, and for a second, the first thing that went through her head was the insane impulse to shake the girl’s hand to see if the earth would tremble again like it had earlier that day.

“Yeah, it’s me, Detective,” Samantha said, then gestured to the African-American girl next to her. “And this is my new roommate Jordan! We’re going out!”

The girl named Jordan looked like she’d heard something confusing for a moment, then nodded Mina’s way with a polite smile instead of taking her hands out the pockets of her mustard-yellow coat. She sported a short ’fro with trimmed sides, and her ears were decorated with large hoop earrings. She was just as distractingly pretty as Samantha Collins was.

“Nice to meet you, Jordan,” Mina said, but she could tell that the young woman was as apprehensive towards Mina as Samantha Collins was open and cheerful. “I hope you girls have fun tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jordan said simply, already walking away, and Samantha followed her with an apologetic smile and a shrug.

“See you around, Detective! Hope you’ll solve your case and stuff!”

“Thanks,” Mina said, and watched the pair disappear around the corner of a campus building.

When they were out of sight, she took a deep breath. “How the fuck am I so attracted to both of them?” she muttered quietly to herself. She couldn’t remember ever feeling like this in all of the time she’d been married to Katie. Sure, there had been pretty women she couldn’t help but notice before but she’d never felt her pulse spike and her palms get sweaty like this before. She swallowed heavily. She loved Katie with all her heart... but a part of her, further downstairs, was quite insistently wishing she’d been asked to tag along. The idea of it had been exhilarating and exciting. It was crazy.

She shook her head. It felt like her mind wasn’t her own today. Like someone had put something in the water. She pulled her cell from her pocket again. It was time to get a ride home.

She’d just opened the app when she heard another voice, and this time it wasn’t one she knew. It wasn’t even one that sounded remotely human.

Sam took a drawn out sip of mojito for dramatic effect. Jordan was smiling at her, and Sam seemed to have her full attention. It was an exhilarating feeling.

“And that was when Detective Park told me that the actual reason the dean had Connor moved out was because he was dealing bloody Cocaine!”

Sam saw Jordan’s beautiful eyes go wide with disbelief.

“You’re kidding me!” Jordan said, jaw gaping open. They had to almost scream to be heard over the noises of the music and crowd. It was busy and crowded and the ambience felt electric and utterly exciting – but part of that might just be her.

“I wish I was!” Sam said, taking another sip. It tasted pleasantly fresh and sweet and hardly alcoholic at all. She knew she was already drunk. She didn’t care. This was fun, and Jordan was awesome.

“So I got my dorm room because a white kid was dealin’?!” Jordan said, laughing. She had a beautiful smile. “I can’t believe a rich white kid actually had to face consequences!”

“Yeah, Connor was a grade-A wanker!” Sam said, “...but you’re not going to like the so-called ‘consequences’ he faced!”

Jordan pouted. “Oh come on, don’t ruin this for me by telling me he only got suspended for a month or some bullshit like that!”

Sam winced inwardly. “It’s worse! The only thing that happened was that he’s got to live off-campus now!”

Jordan threw her hands up in exasperation. “Oh come on, really?! Fuck that!” Jordan said and leaned forward until her face was close to Sam’s, looking her in the eyes with a piercing, questioning stare. For a short Moment, Sam’s heart jumped, and the hairs on her skin seemed to stand up. If Sam leaned just a bit forward, they’d—

Jordan leaned back, tight-lipped, shaking her head. “How does shit like this keep happening?!”, she said.

“I don’t know!” Sam replied. “It sucks!”

Jordan seemed suddenly really upset. Sam hated it. “No, I mean, really!” Jordan went on, “Don’t you know?! You’re rich and privileged. Tell me how the fuck your kind keeps getting away with all the awful, racist, classist bullshit?! Who does your daddy have to pay when you fuck us over, to make it go away?!”

Something both hot and cold seemed to wash down Sam’s throat at the same time, and she could feel her face turn red. Her skin seemed to prickle with the sudden awfulness of the moment. It was like Jordan had slapped her in the face out of nowhere, and Sam didn’t know if she felt more like she was angry or more like she wanted to cry.

In the seconds of painful silence Jordan seemed to realise what she’d just said, and she deflated like a party balloon in fast forward. She clasped her hands together in front of her mouth, and Sam could see the regret in her face. But it was too late. Sam got up from the table, opened up her purse and threw a hundred-dollar bill between their half-finished drinks.

“You know... I wanted the drinks to be on me. I guess I’m just spoiled and privileged that way. You can put my half of the change on the kitchen table if you prefer to split.”

She grabbed her coat and stormed out, sobbing.

“Wait, please wait!” Jordan shouted after her, but Sam was already halfway out of the bar, and her voice was being drowned out by the band and by the noise of the other guests. She was making a scene, and she could feel everyone’s gazes on her neck like pinpricks. As she stormed out, every step felt like a mistake she’d talked herself into making. She felt like she was running into a building that was collapsing instead of running out.

Suddenly she felt so goddamn stupid. Jordan obviously hadn’t meant what she’d said. But the anger in her chest had propelled Sam forward like a great weight already in motion, and she felt like she was running downhill and the momentum was too great for her to stop.

She couldn’t stop now, could she?

And even if she was stupidly overreacting, she had every right to be angry, didn’t she?! It wasn’t her fault that she’d gotten this life! What was she supposed to do?! Just throw it all away? Not use the opportunities she had been given?! That would be just as unfair!

She pushed open the door and the cold night air smacked in her face like a wet blanket. The space around her was suddenly wide open, and she was all but alone on the sidewalk in front of the club as the moonless sky stretched infinitely high above her. The door fell closed behind her, and everything was suddenly much more quiet—and her anger seemed small and erratic under the infinite expanse of stars. It was like someone had cut out the dramatic music from a movie and everything felt lame and ordinary without it. She felt completely deflated. She stopped, and looked back. Next to the door she’d just stormed out off, a young man smoking a cigarette looked at her quizzically for a second, then returned his attention back to the screen of his mobile phone.

She suddenly wanted to go back in.

How bloody stupid would I look if I did that? she thought.

But before she could even consider it any further, the door burst open and Jordan spilled out, still struggling to put on her coat.

Jordan stopped dead, almost stumbling into Sam, obviously surprised to see her still standing here instead of stomping off further down the pavement. Her mouth was half-open, as if she’d been just about to shout something. There were tears in her eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke and the silence hung between them like a phyisical thing. The air between them seemed more still than air should be able to be, as if the silence had thickened and crystallized it. Sam’s heart was racing out of some deep, scary instinct she couldn't name. Something about this moment seemed bigger and more meaningful than what was supposed to be possible outside of soap operas. But she still felt it. The significance of it. The importance. The... attraction.

This didn’t make sense at all. They hardly knew each other. Whatever there had been between them should have just ended. Jordan had lashed out, and Sam had overreacted. Judgments should have been made, and first impressions should have been ruined, for weeks, or months or forever. But she looked into Jordan’s eyes, and she was sure that this absurd feeling was right. This absurd feeling of exhilarating excitement. She took a step forward and before she knew what she or Jordan were doing, or even what she had planned on doing, they were already kissing.

How the bloody hell is this happening? was the only thing she managed to think before her thoughts turned into a wild and muddled mess of joy and confusion. Jordan’s full, dark lips were against hers, and she felt warm and soft, and immediately intimate and familiar. Sam’s mind sparkled with wonder and joy and disbelief. After a long moment of outrageous bliss, Jordan pulled away, looking as shocked and confused as Sam felt. She was somewhere between a smile and a gasp.

“What,” she said, looking at Sam like someone would look like an alien that had just landed on earth, then looked down at their hands. She was holding Sam’s in hers. They were trembling.

“I...” Sam tried. “I don’t know... I...”

“We both did that, right?” Jordan said, wide-eyed.

“I think so, yes,” Sam said, blushing and grinning like a girl caught jumping on her parent’s bed. Immediately, part of her was afraid that her silly smile would scare Jordan away. But the beautiful, fascinating girl with dark skin kept holding on to her. She let out a sigh of relief through her nose. At least Sam hoped that Jordan was as relieved and happy as she was—or maybe she didn’t hope that. Maybe she hoped that Jordan was still angry, because that would be way less confusing and complicated. Her mind was spinning like a merry-go-round.

But then Jordan looked at her meaningfully, and finally smiled shyly.

“Whatever that was, it was nice,“ she said.

“Yes, it was,” Sam said, feeling like she was letting go of something heavy. She chuckled.

Jordan took another deep breath before she continued. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t know how I could say what I said. I was wrong to say it. You didn’t deserve that. I was angry and stupid, and I was feeling so tense, and I was drunk! Well, I guess I’m still drunk, but I’m sorry! I don’t think you’re like that! I really, really don’t!”

“I’m trying not to be,” Sam said softly.

“I...” Jordan said, biting her lip. “I was just so tense because... fuck... I’m so goddamn into you.”

“You were self-sabotaging,” Sam said.

“You a psych major, too?”

“Don’t need a psych-major to get that impression.“ Sam said, pausing, wrestling with herself, before finally saying: “I’m into you, too. Big time.”

Jordan smiled, scoffing with joyous disbelief. Then her face turned a shade melancholic as she raised one eyebrow.

“This is weird, though, isn’t it?” she said.

“Who bloody cares?” Sam said, suddenly giddy again. “You like me back! You like me back! You like me back!!!“

She grasped Jordan’s hands tightly. “Can I kiss you again?” she asked. It still felt like a dream.

Jordan smiled. “Yes, please,” she said, and Sam leaned in and pressed her lips against Jordan’s. They were so big and soft and smooth and warm and most importantly they were attached to Jordan who was so hot and smart and she just wanted to be with her and feel her and be close to her.

Sam gingerly pushed her tongue against Jordan’s lips and amazingly, Jordan parted them for her and Sam felt her tongue slide into Jordan’s mouth, felt it press against Jordan’s tongue, felt her softly suck on it. Felt her arms around her, embracing her tightly. Felt her hands wander down the small of her back...

She shivered and let out a small, stifled moan. She pulled back, just for a moment, just long enough to ask: “Should we go back to our place?”

Jordan’s kiss was all the answer she needed.

The taxicab drove off into the moonless night, leaving the Scholar stranded next to a frankly quite idyllic town square. She was in the middle of a small college town, right where the epicenter of the earthquake had been measured to be. Buried somewhere beneath her feet lay a source of tremendous Evil.

She checked into the hotel and deposited her heavy suitcase of research notes before heading back out into the chill of the night, trying to decide where to start. Back in the night air she spent a minute gathering her thoughts, watching the few people that were still out late-night: Young people—mostly students—out and about, going to and coming from this or that festivity. Most of them seemed happy, walking in groups, excitedly talking amongst themselves, their senses dulled but their spirits brightened. One of them was even spinning around a lamp post in the middle of the town square, singing off-key.

There were some loners, too, some of them wearing the heavy-set faces of heart-breaks, break-ups and upsets. She supposed that this was normal, too. It was life, happening to people. The kind of life that she’d never had. Would never have. It struck her as ominous just how deeply normal it all seemed. It seemed as if there was nothing wrong at all, and seeing it almost made her believe that everything surely must be fine. If people just went about their lives like this, how could there be Evil lurking beneath? But she knew better. The peace was an illusion, and a temporary one at that. The clock was ticking.

“Hey, you! You looking for the renaissance fair?” a shrill voice sounded from behind her, and she turned to see a group of three young men, obviously amused by her appearance and just as obviously intoxicated.

She smiled politely. “That cloak was my great-great-grandfather’s. He wore it during the crimean war.”

The young men stared dumbly at her for moment. She expected something inane and disgusting out of their mouths. But one of them smiled, prompting the others follow his lead.

“Awesome,” he said. “Did he fight for Russia, France, or England?”

“For the Osman Empire, actually,” she said, unable to not be a little bit amused by the fact that this drunken boy studied history. She wondered if maybe European history wasn’t the only thing he was unexpectedly knowledgeable about?

She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, can you tell me where the oldest building in town is?”

The boy snorted and shook his head, then smiled sideways at his companions when realized that she’d been serious. He shrugged. “Old college library I guess. That way. It’s open 24/7. Have fun.”

“Thank you,” she said, “Have a good night.”

She picked up her suitcase and walked past them in the direction they had indicated. It was a good place to start as any.

The darkness has it. It has a way. It is easier than it anticipated. Easier than last time. There are pipes deep in the earth that hadn’t been there before, and its energy can flow along them. It senses hewn stones beyond the deep earth. It smells dust and wood in the air it breathes. It senses movement. It senses life. Weakly. Far above, beyond walls and doors, up, up above it.

It sends out one of itself, slithering through cracks, staying hidden, out of sight, in the shadows.

It reaches the top, crawling, spying, hiding. It sees them. The ones that shall bow and serve and be consumed. There are too many still—but it knows to wait. It knows to hide and wait. It knows to find its prey weak and isolated. It knows when to strike.

In the depths, it makes a loud noise and lets its prey come to it, to ambush and strike from behind, from above, from the dark. Sudden and unseen.

The woman that approaches is tall and lean, and her garbs are saturated with the smell of old paper and dust. She is of this place. She moves with confidence and with familiar steps in the dim, stone-hewn vaults. She carries books.

The darkness strikes, into flesh, biting, poisoning, crippling, paralyzing. It knows this one is not the one it seeks. It is not one of the Heralds. It is just flesh. But flesh is what is made to serve, and so shall this one, even if the seed of darkness will not mature fully in this flesh. Only in the Heralds can it anchor itself in this world. Until the Heralds are found, this flesh will be one to serve, and to help plant the seed.

The victim convulses as the darkness creeps across its body with a hundred small legs, finds its way between its legs, and enters into its flesh, to burrow deeply, to claw and bite its way into it, to bond, and to make it serve.

It does so, and for the first time in over a century it tastes the soul of a mortal, and the flesh serves. After a futile struggle, her screams of unearthly pain and pleasure echo in the deep, and its flesh-servant rises.