I'm about to burn. My final thesis is due.
My advisor isn't bloodsucking as expected from a vampire in Witch Studies, but he can't help.
Tonight, while the wispy ghosts serving at Never Café at night stay distracted with the zombie-like students, I'm taking the risk of swapping out every drink in the crowded coffee shop. My spider assistants cluster in the corners to observe as I snatch, spell, switch, repeat. Testing.
Wordless screams smother the usual murmur of the shop. I turn to watch one patron writhe, transforming--
Finally!
Fuzzy tentacles on a new chimera wave at the crowd.
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Harbinger of Death by Jonathan L. Tolstedt"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Famine Man by Deborah Tapper"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Price of Belief by Andreas Flögel"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Abhartach's Thirst by Andrew Kurtz"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>