Nothing is ever going to be completely normal in the life of a half-vampire. Camila has always accepted that "normal" is something she'll never experience. But what happens when her old and new families go to war? What happens when a man, who is com...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾🥀☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•
Camila's POV
School is the only true part of my life that feels normal. As I said earlier, the normal person can't tell vampire from human, so none of my friends are aware of the unusualness of my existence. To them, I'm just Camila Frost--another kid in the seventh grade. Vampires can't really mess with me at school. I'm pretty much one of the only ones of us that can be out when the sun is blazing. There is one other—but dad never really talks about him to me. All he tells me is that he's dangerous. I've been told that if I see the daywalker, I am to get out of there as fast as I can--any methods necessary to escape are on the table then.
Getting ready for school is a bit of a different process than it is for most people. First of all, the sun won't kill me, but I am beyond extremely fair-skinned. Sunburns for a half-vampire are no less than brutal. The people in the burn unit of the hospital probably know me by name now. Sunblock is a must anytime I'm out during the day—even sometimes using an umbrella when the sun is super bright. That doesn't even mention dad's daily speech about the daywalker.
As I walk out of my room, spinning my covered sword—a bad idea when I'm half-asleep—I notice dad looking anxiety-ridden. His gaze seems unfocused, though I know it's because his mind is occupied by whatever crisis we find ourselves in today. Before I knock myself out, I sit the sword down and hop up on a barstool beside him. He looks over at me with his grey eyes that he gave to me.
"Hello Little Love," he says, calling me the nickname he gave me when I was born.
"What's wrong, dad?" I ask him.
"Is it that obvious?" he replies with a soft smile.
"No," I tease sarcastically. "I'm telepathic. You didn't know that?"
"Haha. No, I didn't realize." He shakes his head, chucking at both my comment and the sarcastic-like look that accompanies it. "Good grief, kid. I can't deny you."
"She's definitely got your sass, man," we hear Quinn state from another room. "You can't ever deny she's yours."
"When did he get here?" I question.
"All night. Long story."
"So what's going on?"
"Back to that, are we?"
"Something's going on. What's wrong, daddy?"
"The daywalker," he sighs. "We keep having run-ins with him. More and more familiars aren't coming back."
I notice as he's talking, his eyes look at me with concern. He looks... scared. Honestly, I barely remember what that expression looks like on him. My dad has always been so confident, bold—not scared of anything. Now, he looks like a stress case.
