I somehow manage to tear my gaze away from my reflection and turn back to Kalma. My dress still hangs loosely around my chest, untied, and I can tell she's studying me.
"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be 'eased into this' when all I want is answers," I snap, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth. When my eyes meet hers, I notice the gold flecks in her black eyes shimmering with an unnatural allure.
"I understand that I'm in a house, that this dress is silk, that my heart should be beating. I can even tie this ribbon and know what a wrought-iron crystal chandelier is. But... I don't know who I am. I don't know my name or how I ended up here. All I remember is darkness... nothing but blackness when it comes to me."
Kalma's eyes soften slightly, though there's no sympathy there. Instead, her voice carries the weight of something older, a wisdom borne of someone who has seen this before.
"It's part of the transformation process," she says, the words slipping out easily. "Your memories and identity are lost. In most cases, they will never return. You will live on with a new name, a new life."
"Transformation process?" I repeat in confusion. Kalma gestures toward the vanity stool behind me with a slender finger, her silent command clear. I sit, though every part of me is reluctant to comply. She leans casually against one of the bedposts, her eyes never leaving mine.
"You have been reborn," she says, her hands moving as though she's presenting a gift. Her tone is light, almost celebratory, as if this process is something I should feel grateful for, not fearful of. "You have a new family, a new life. I'm afraid I can't tell you much about your past. You came to me through a member here."
"Another member here? Who? How did they know me?"
"It is not for me to tell. They will reveal themselves when they are ready. Also, they are not currently in Cambridge."
"Cambridge?"
Kalma nods, "It's where we are now. At Grey House. And where you will stay. Young vamps are not allowed off the grounds unless escorted by a senior. You aren't to be trusted yet and you need to be trained."
"Young vamps?" I ask as Kalma casually pushes herself off the bedpost. Her gaze flicks down to her black nail polish, the gesture so nonchalant it makes my insides twist with frustration.
"Young vampires," she corrects, her voice flat, as if she's bored with the question already. "You're our newest member, the freshest by a few years. So, naturally, a lot of eyes will be on you as you figure out how to navigate this new life. Don't let them tempt you into their bad behavior. Don't let them fool you into thinking they're your friends."
I'm frozen on the stool, my mind racing, but my body doesn't seem to respond. I'm staring into the nothingness, still trying to digest what she's just told me.
Vampire.
The word echoes in my mind, reverberating through the silence of the room. I don't need to think too hard to know that the word carries weight. I know what it means. In that abyss of blackness, I remember the word. It's there, lodged deep in the shadows of my memory.
"Wait," I whisper, my voice cracking with disbelief. "You're telling me I'm a vampire? A bloodsucker. Undead. A mythical creature?" I can't help but laugh, but it's sharp and desperate. "Here, in Cambridge? And now I'm supposed to just live in a house of vampires?"
Kalma raises an eyebrow, but there's no real surprise in her expression. "Trust me," she says with a faint smirk, "that's not even the most unbelievable part of all this. But like I said, we're easing you in."
