Now Sig and I were alone on the bike path. My eyes had finally adjusted enough to make him out as more than a pale shape against the asphalt. We were both shivering, me from the cold and the adrenaline dump, Sig from the pain of what I’d just done to his knee. “I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant …

My brain went through its personal boot sequence, loading whereami.sys and whathappened.exe. I’d only been out a second, but I didn’t know that. Meanwhile the fight was still going on without me. Someone was pulling Sig backwards with a rear choke. I could only make out shapes, but that was enough. That figure holding Sig from behind, that was Jenna! …

In 2006 in the town of Medicine Hat, Alberta, Canada, a 23-year-old man named Jeremy Steinke convinced a 12-year-old girl, whom he was “dating”, to kill her entire family. The reason for the murderous rampage is believed to be because the girl’s family didn’t approve of the relationship between Steinke and their daughter. By law, the relationship made Steinke a …

Before I knew what was happening, Sig had grabbed me by the neck. He half hauled, half hurled me into the dark, along the bike path that stretched away from the sidewalk, into the trees. I twisted out of his grip and recognized him—his narrow frame, his mess of pale hair fully head and shoulders above mine—just before we were …

Before I even caught a bus home, I called Miranda, left her a message: that she had to call the police about Chelsea, that Chelsea was probably dead, that Nick and Sig were behind it. I didn’t say how I knew. It occurred to me that I was staking a lot on Miranda trusting me when she had no good …

In the small town of Exeter, Rhode Island in 1892, tuberculosis ran rampant amongst the townsfolk. Weekly funerals weren’t uncommon as the disease took its toll on one family after another. However, one family met a particularly gruesome end; exhumed from the crypt as undead and, with the permission of a reluctant patriarch, killed as vampires. The Brown family members …

The call I wasn’t expecting came while I was at work. My phone showed “Miranda Lee,” so I took my second break of the day to answer it out on the smokers’ balcony. “Chelsea’s missing,” she said, instead of “Hello.” “What happened?” I asked. Chelsea was Nick’s sickly friend-with-benefits, who had roped Miranda into that night at the bar. “I’ve …

Now here’s a bizarre story. Normally, when we hear of a story concerning vampires or werewolves getting a little crazy, it usually has to do with violence against each other. And even then, those news stories about men or women convicted of some violent crime, confessing to being vampires or werewolves, turn out to be tales of the mentally ill. …