My brother is a vampire, and I'm a glutton. One late night, I secretly drank from his blood pouch and discovered it was sweet! He'd been pretending to be a vampire for ten years, all because I was obsessed with novels when I was little, and begged for a vampire brother. After learning the truth, I pulled my brother out of his "ice coffin," "Brother, go back to bed from now on. It's too cold here." I absolutely can't let him know that what I was reading back then, was a pseudo-incest novel. 1 I never bring friends home. Like, ever. I can't risk them finding out my brother’s secret—he’s a mutant vampire who survives on blood bags. Other vampires are immortal, but since my brother, Ethan, only drinks animal blood, he grows and ages right alongside me. We were both adopted by Grandma Sterling. I figure Ethan’s birth parents must have dumped him at the foster home because he was a vampire. I don't care, though. I think it’s awesome. I don’t mind that he’s a vampire, and he doesn’t mind that I'm a bottomless pit. 2 Grandma always said my stomach was a black hole and that it was a miracle I was never kidnapped as a kid by someone offering me candy. Ethan worries I'll starve. Even though I'm in college and only home on weekends, he stocks the fridge and pantry until they're literally overflowing. But when I got home today, something felt wrong. Ethan wasn't here. Arthur, our housekeeper, said Ethan was feeling unwell and had gone to "that place" to rest. "That place" is the one room he’s forbidden me from entering. Every full moon, he holes up in there to "recover" until it's over. Ugh. With Ethan gone, even the snack cabinet was empty. Night fell. I’d eaten dinner, but I was still starving and couldn't sleep. Around midnight, I snuck into the kitchen looking for a snack. The fridge was totally empty. Except for the refrigerated drawer... It was meticulously organized with Ethan’s "rations"—animal blood bags, all neatly labeled by type. I picked up a bag labeled 'O-Negative.' I swallowed, my mouth watering. No! Cici, bad! That’s Ethan’s food! But… he always makes it look so delicious when he drinks it… ...I mean, just one sip? Curiosity and hunger defeated my conscience. I tore open a corner of the bag and took a huge swig. It was... sweet. And rich. And... fruity. Like overripe cherry juice... Wait. Sweet?! I didn't believe it. I took another massive gulp. I was 100% sure. This wasn't blood plasma. This was high-fructose cherry juice. 3 A terrifying thought hit me. Ethan’s been drinking fake blood? Then how is he… No. Wait. Maybe he can't drink real blood. Which means... He’s been pretending to be a vampire? I started running through all the "evidence" from the past ten years, and my scalp began to prickle. Vampires don't eat hot food. We always had two meals: my hot dinner and Ethan’s "cold" one. I’d be tearing into a rack of ribs, grease up to my elbows, and he'd just watch me, looking disgusted... or so I thought. That wasn't disgust. He was swallowing because he was craving the ribs. Vampires are nocturnal and fear the sun. Ethan claimed he was a "high-level" vampire who could tolerate the sun, but only with "protection." Even on the hottest summer days, he'd be bundled up in long sleeves, pants, and a huge hat. He'd come home looking totally wrecked. I thought it was sun damage. He was having a heatstroke. He wasn't just faking. He was a "method" vampire. He "feared" garlic, silver, and crosses. His skin was pale, his lips were always red, and he kept vampire hours. Other than not killing people, he was straight out of a movie. His study was always dark, heavy curtains drawn 24/7. And "that place" he rested... was the cold, damp basement. I snuck in once, years ago. All that was in there was a "bed" that looked exactly like an ice coffin, frost crawling up the sides. If Ethan isn't a vampire—if he’s just a normal guy like me—how could he stand sleeping in that frigid thing? And why? Why has he been playing this part for a decade? 4 I had to test him. The next morning, I took a blood bag and camped out by the basement door. Right on schedule, Ethan emerged, wrapped in a cloud of cold air. He was wearing a dark red silk robe, open at the chest, his slightly-too-long hair tied back. He looked every bit the part of the decadent, moody vampire. No wonder I never questioned it. In my head, this is what vampires are supposed to look like. He saw me crouched by the door and jumped. "Cici! What are you doing, planting yourself on the floor?" I leaped up and threw myself into his freezing arms. "Ethan, you've suffered so much!" He stumbled back, almost hitting the door. "What? What's wrong?" He patted my head. "Did someone bully you?" I looked at his lips, which were genuinely pale from the cold, and my heart ached. "Ethan, I know everything. You don't have to—" Before I could finish, Arthur, our housekeeper, hurried over. "Mr. Ethan, he is here to see you..." I shivered. Ethan's "nemesis" was here. 5 Ethan has this mortal enemy, Ryan. Ethan told me Ryan’s a werewolf and to stay away from him. If Ethan’s a fake vampire, Ryan’s "werewolf" thing is probably just as fake. I followed Ethan into the dining room. Ryan was already there, lounging at the table, casually spreading jam on some toast with a butter knife. "Well, well. Look who's up before noon. Aren't you afraid you'll burst into flames, big bro?" Ryan winked at me, then offered me the sandwich. "Here you go, Cici. All for you." Ethan intercepted it immediately. His voice was icy. "She doesn't take food from strangers." "A stranger? How am I a stranger?" Ryan ignored Ethan's death glare and grinned. "I'm practically your better half." Ethan jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. "Spit it out or get out." "Fine, fine. I've got a lead on that thing you had me investigating—" "Cici," Ethan cut him off, his voice suddenly gentle as he turned to me. "Could you be a dear and grab me an AB-Negative blood bag from the kitchen?" Right. Secret business I'm not allowed to hear. "Sure thing." AB-Negative? I drank the O-Neg. Do different blood types have different flavors? 6 By the time I got back, Ryan was gone. And the sandwich he'd made? It was sitting "peacefully" at the bottom of the trash can. On my plate was a new sandwich, crusts cut off, personally made by Ethan. He tore open his "blood bag" like normal. As he was about to drink, I spoke up. "Ethan... can I try a sip?" Splat. The bag slipped from his hand, hitting the floor. His head snapped toward me. He grabbed my chin, forcing my mouth open, and inspected my teeth. "They're not sharp... How did you...?" I pushed his hand away. "Ethan! I'm not turning into a vampire." "Then why would you want a blood bag?" He looked frantic. "Did Ryan say something to you? What did he tell you?" I just shook my head. Wow. One simple test and he's already sweating bullets. I backed off. It was pretty clear he wasn't going to drop the act and confess just because I asked. Why is he pretending? Is it connected to whatever he had Ryan investigating? Now isn't the time to push. "Eat this." Ethan slid a new, upgraded sandwich in front of me—this one piled high with bacon, tomato, and a fried egg. Then he turned back to his "non-filling" cherry juice. Whatever his reason, he can't keep sleeping in that "ice coffin." He's going to get arthritis. "Hey, Ethan? You should sleep in your real bed tonight." I grabbed his hand. "The basement is way too cold." He looked at me, touched. "It's fine, Cici. I'm used to it." I went quiet. Fine. If he won't listen to reason, I'll use force. I waited until he left the house for a meeting, then I skipped my afternoon classes, detoured home, and bought a hammer and a small axe from the hardware store. I kicked open the basement door. I was going to dismantle that "ice coffin" of his. 7 The door banged open. A wave of bitter cold hit me, seeping through my clothes. It's freezing. To think Ethan sleeps in here every night... my eyes started to sting. Why is he pretending? I stalked into the room, axe in hand, and then I saw it. The room was bigger than I remembered. Behind the "ice coffin," there was a huge, wall-sized mirror. Something about it looked wrong. It felt like there was space on the other side. I reached out and touched the glass. It suddenly rotated, swinging open to the left— The back of the mirror... was a massive... photo wall. When I saw what was on it, I collapsed, dropping the axe. The wall was covered in pictures of me. And photos of every single person I'd ever interacted with. They were all connected by a terrifying web of red string. My hands started shaking as I tore the photos down. This one! A guy circled in red. That's the jock from the basketball team who asked me out last week. He sprained his ankle in practice this weekend. That one! The girl on top... she's the school's number-one mean girl. Last month, she and her clique tried to shake down my roommate. I stepped in, and she told me I'd "better watch my back." I waited a month, but nothing ever happened. I figured she was all talk. Then I heard she'd been arrested for shoplifting. These, and those... Every single one was someone connected to me. A horrifying chill crawled up my spine. I've just stumbled onto a secret... way scarier than my brother not being a vampire. I had to get out of here. Now. A familiar footstep sounded on the stairs behind me. "Where is Cici?" A man's voice, from upstairs. It was Arthur. "Sir, the young miss took tools into the basement." I... I explicitly told Arthur not to tell Ethan I was home. I looked around wildly. There are no windows. Nowhere to hide. I heard a soft click from the top of the stairs. Did... did he leave? I let out a breath I was holding. And then, the footsteps started coming down. The photos scattered from my hands. Oh. That wasn't the sound of a door closing. It was the sound of a lock. 8 I froze, my mind blank. My brother wasn't just faking. He was monitoring me. The light from the stairwell was blocked by a tall silhouette. The shadow swallowed me whole. I slowly looked up, meeting Ethan’s eyes. They were completely black, all the warmth gone. He wasn't my brother anymore. He was a stranger. "Cici," his voice was soft, but it cut like an icy blade. "Who let you in here?" Arthur was behind him, wringing his hands, desperately trying to catch my eye. He was mouthing: "Apologize! Apologize!" My lips trembled, but I couldn't speak. The photos on the floor were all the evidence he needed. He crouched down, his long fingers picking up one of the pictures. The jock circled in red. "This one," he asked, his voice terrifyingly calm. "He asked you out?" I nodded. "And then?" "And then... he sprained his ankle." Ethan let out a small, cold laugh. "You think that was a coincidence, Cici?" My heart plummeted. He stood up, looking down at me like I was an ant that had wandered into his territory. "Cecilia, I have protected you too well," he said, enunciating every word. "So well that you actually believe this world is a fairy tale." He turned his back to me. "Put everything back. Then go to your room. From now on, you are not to leave this house without my permission." Is he... grounding me? This feels more like house arrest. "Why?" I finally found my voice, but it was choked with tears. "Ethan, who are you? Why are you doing this?" He didn't turn around. He just tossed a cold sentence over his shoulder. "It's for your own good." "For my good?! Is monitoring me like a prisoner for my own good?!" I screamed at his back. "You investigate every person I talk to, you interfere in my life! What gives you the right?!" He stopped. "What gives me the right?" He turned around slowly. His handsome face, for the first time, looked broken. It was a mask of pain and self-loathing. "The right? I have it... because I'm your brother." He walked out, not looking back. I heard the click again. He'd locked me in.
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