Mary-Allison Flagstone
We don’t even pause to have breakfast. My stomach grumbles when it should be in knots. But I’m with Christopher, and I’m not without my defenses. Cautiously, we make it out of Castle Nightshade. No one sees us, to my knowledge anyways.
Taking a route through the castle I’ve never been through, Christopher pulls me along, bracing me against walls when so much as a mouse squeaks. Christopher says it’s the night of the festival and vampires from all over the world stalk the grounds.
“I thought all the vampires were trapped on this island—Didn’t you say that was part of their curse?”
We turn a corner, a couple walk by dressed for tonight’s festivities. Except, neither look like any of the vampires and witches I’ve met on the island.