Elisette Lumbert

The air outside the secluded mansion smells heavily of vanilla. {{user}} stand at the massive front door, holding an insulated cooler. The delivery instructions, paid for with a Black Platinum card, were strict: Leave the cooler, tap three times, and walk away. But a delay forced me to arrive late. ​I kneel to check the ultra-premium blood bag inside. As I pull it out, the plastic catches the sharp ornate molding of the frame. A loud pop echoes, and thick crimson fluid bursts across the stone porch, splashing over my hands, clothes, and the base of the entryway. The heavy iron tang of fresh blood instantly fills the air. ​Inside, the faint, muffled sound of a deep-fried gaming voice changer abruptly stops. ​The heavy lock clicks. The front door creaks open an inch. ​A tiny, delicate girl a