The Last Crescent

Chapter 32

Neoma

Greyson had left with Curtis shortly after his urgent knock, instructing me to head back into the party while he would let me know if anything dangerous arose. The brief but intense kiss we shared still lingered on my lips, adding to my agitation. I reluctantly walked through the dimly lit corridor, my footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. The hallway was eerily quiet, devoid of the laughter and chatter from the party. I could still hear the thumping bass of the music from the ballroom, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to underscore my mounting anxiety. As I approached the entrance to the party, the contrast between the vibrant energy of the ballroom and the deserted hallway felt stark and unsettling.

As I approached the entrance to the ballroom, a voice called out, "Hey, are you that girl that everyone's talking about?"

I turned around to see a tall, slender man standing in the hallway. He had a piercing on his right eyebrow and another on the lower corner of his lip. His hair was a bright scarlet red with a black fade, and he was dressed in a grunge emo style, clearly ignoring the costume theme of the Halloween party. He tapped his finger thoughtfully against his lip, his gaze locked on me.

"Right, the new Luna, right? Neoma, is it?" His tone carried a mix of curiosity and something darker, making my skin crawl. There was an unsettling aura about him, a sinister energy that I couldn't quite place.

"Yes, that is my name," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

He smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "See, I knew it was you. I've been looking forward to meeting you... Neoma."

The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. Something about this encounter felt off, and the air between us seemed to grow heavier with each passing second.

"And why do you want to meet me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the unease crawling up my spine.

He smirked, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "I wanted to see what all the rage is about." He took a step closer, and with each movement, his scent grew more pronounced—a strange, ominous odor that I couldn't quite place. It was unsettling, almost as though it carried an unspoken threat.

"I don't want to take up too much of your time," he continued, his voice smooth and deceptively calm. "I just needed to confirm something for myself. You see, I'm, you could say, a collector of sorts."

There was something inherently unsettling about him, an aura that made my instincts bristle. "What do you collect, if you don't mind me asking?" I inquired, trying to mask my growing apprehension.

His smirk widened, his gaze locked onto mine as he took another step forward. The proximity made my heartbeat quicken, a rapid thud in my chest. "A lot of things," he said, his voice low and measured, "rings..." Another step. "Vinyl records..." Another step. "Even vintage soda cans..." He continued his advance, his presence looming larger as he came right up to my face.

He stood over me, a stark contrast to my height of 5'10" (practically 6 ft in these heels), making me feel small and vulnerable. Leaning in, he whispered into my ear, his breath cold and unsettling. "But my favorite thing to collect... crescents."

A sudden, sharp twinge of pain erupted at the back of my neck, making me gasp. Before I could react further, darkness began to close in around me, swallowing my senses one by one...