Chapter Text
The scent of popcorn, slightly burned but still smelling good, was in the air of Alya’s bedroom. Magazines were scattered across the bed. They were filled with personality quizzes and dubious love advice.
“Okay, okay,” Alya said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she dramatically cleared her throat. “Next question: ‘If your crush walked into the room right now, what would you do?’” She glanced between Marinette and Tikki, her expression already brimming with anticipation for their answers.
Marinette, sitting cross-legged with a fluffy pink pillow hugged to her chest, groaned and threw her head back. “Ugh, why do these quizzes always have to involve crushes? Can’t they ask something like, I don’t know, ‘What kind of pasta are you based on your music taste?’”
Tikki, sprawled out on her stomach, her fiery red hair spilling over the pages of a different magazine, smirked. “Oh please, Marinette, we all know you’re just scared of your answer exposing you.” Her blue eyes twinkled with mischief as she nudged Marinette’s arm. “So, what would you do if a certain blond model walked in right now?”
Marinette flushed instantly, her grip on the pillow tightening as if it could physically shield her from the question. “I mean, I’d say hi! Like a normal person!”
Alya snorted. “Yeah, you’d say ‘hi’, followed by a lot of nervous giggling and tripping over thin air.”
Tikki nodded solemnly. “And maybe throw in an unnecessary apology for good measure.”
“Okay, rude!” Marinette huffed, though she couldn’t exactly deny the truth in their words.
Alya waved the magazine in the air. “Come on, pick an answer: A) You confidently strike up a conversation, B) You play it cool but subtly flirt, C) You awkwardly wave and pray for death, or D) You run out of the room screaming.”
Marinette pursed her lips. “...C.”
Tikki burst out laughing, kicking her feet against the mattress. “Called it!”
“Alright, alright, next one,” Alya said, flipping the page, her grin still smug. “This one’s about what kind of supernatural creature you’d be.”
“Oh, this should be good,” Tikki said, rolling onto her back and folding her arms behind her head.
Marinette leaned forward, momentarily forgetting her previous embarrassment. “What are the choices?”
Alya scanned the page. “Let’s see… A) Vampire, B) Werewolf, C) Witch, D) Fairy.” She arched an eyebrow. “Tikki, I feel like you’d be a witch. You’ve got that mysterious, otherworldly vibe.”
Tikki grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Marinette tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I think I’d want to be a fairy. They’re cute, they can fly, and they get to wear pretty dresses.”
“Yeah, but they’re also tiny,” Alya pointed out. “You’d have to fight off birds every day of your life.”
Marinette shuddered. “Okay, never mind.”
Tikki rolled onto her side. “What about you, Alya?”
Alya didn’t even have to think about it. “Werewolf, obviously. They’re strong, loyal, and way cooler than vampires.”
Marinette chuckled. “Tell that to all the vampire books you have on your shelf.”
Alya scoffed, crossing her arms. “Hey, just because I read them doesn’t mean I agree with the whole ‘tall, brooding, and charming’ aesthetic. It’s completely unrealistic.”
Tikki hummed in agreement. “Yeah, if vampires were real, they’d probably be stuck-up and obnoxious.”
Marinette laughed, shaking her head. “Good thing they’re not real, then.”
~~~
It was late by the time Marinette left Alya’s place. The only sounds were the noises of passing cars and the tap of her own footsteps against the sidewalk.
She hugged her jacket tighter around herself, savoring the quiet. There was something peaceful about walking home at night, even if she knew she shouldn’t make a habit of it. The city felt different in the dark—slower, like a secret version of itself that only night owls and insomniacs got to see.
She was halfway home when a sound broke the stillness. A sharp, muffled gasp.
Marinette froze where she stood.
It had come from the alley to her right. There was a narrow, shadowy gap between two old buildings. Every instinct screamed at her to keep walking, to pretend she hadn’t heard anything, to get home and lock the door behind her.
But she didn’t. With her heart pounding, she took a slow step forward, peering cautiously into the alley.
That's when she saw it. A woman, limp and not conscious, her body sagging against the brick wall. Next to her was Chloé Bourgeois poised like a predator. Her lips were pressed against the woman’s neck, her fangs sunk deep into her flesh.
Marinette’s breath caught in her throat.
Chloé’s eyes snapped open, glowing an unnatural, piercing red in the darkness. A low, guttural growl escaped her lips as she wrenched herself away from her victim after giving her neck a lick. Blood smeared across Chloé's mouth like a grotesque stain of evidence.
Marinette stumbled back, a strangled noise escaping her throat.
Chloé wiped her mouth on a tissue she pulled out from her pocket, her expression shifting from irritation to something more threatening. “You saw nothing.”
Suddenly, she was gone.
She didn’t walk away or run away. She was just gone. Like the shadows themselves had swallowed her whole.
The woman slumped to the ground, her breaths shallow but steady.
Marinette’s mind was screaming at her to rationalize what she had seen, to convince herself that she had imagined it, that the dim light and her exhaustion had tricked her into seeing something impossible.
Vampires weren’t supposed to be real.
~~~
Marinette stood frozen at the edge of the alleyway, her breath unsteady, her pulse hammering in her ears. The woman—who just moments ago had been limp, drained, and unconscious—stirred slightly, a weak groan slipping past her lips as she shifted against the brick wall.
Marinette hesitated. She should leave. She should pretend she hadn’t seen any of this. But she couldn’t just leave the woman alone. She wasn’t that kind of person.
“Uh, excuse me?” she said softly, kneeling down beside her. “Are you okay?”
The woman blinked sluggishly, her eyes hazy and unfocused. She was older than Marinette, maybe in her late twenties, dressed in a navy-blue coat with a matching skirt and heels. She looked like the kind of person who spent her evenings sipping espresso at cafés, not slumped in a dark alleyway.
“I…” The woman’s voice was hoarse as she struggled to sit upright, pressing a hand against her forehead. “What happened?”
Marinette swallowed. She didn’t know how to answer that.
“You, um… Maybe you fainted?” She hid the truth at first, testing the waters.
The woman frowned, rubbing her temples. “Fainted?”
“You were really out of it,” Marinette said carefully. “Do you… remember anything?”
The woman’s frown deepened. “I was walking home from work, I think… and then…” She trailed off, brows furrowing in confusion. “I don’t know. I must have been more exhausted than I thought.”
Marinette thought about what to do. Her gut told her to leave it alone, to nod and walk away and pretend she had never seen Chloé Bourgeois with fangs buried in someone’s throat. But another part of her—the part that had to know, had to understand—wouldn’t let it go.
“I don’t think you fainted,” she blurted out.
The woman blinked at her. “What?”
Marinette exhaled, glancing around nervously before lowering her voice. “I know this is going to sound insane, but I saw what happened. You didn’t just faint. There was someone here. A girl.” She paused, then forced herself to say it. “She was drinking your blood.”
The woman’s face went blank.
“What?” she repeated, slower this time.
“She had fangs, and she was biting you, and I swear I saw—”
The woman’s hands shot to her throat in alarm. She fumbled through her purse and pulled out a small, round compact mirror, flipping it open with shaking fingers.
Marinette held her breath as the woman tilted the mirror, angling it toward her neck.
Marinette’s eyes widened when she took another look at her neck.
The skin of her neck was smooth and unblemished. No puncture marks, no scratches, not even a hint of irritation.
“No,” she whispered, leaning closer. “That’s not possible. There was a bite mark! I saw it!”
The woman’s fingers trembled as they traced the unmarked skin of her throat. Then, slowly, her expression shifted from confusion to suspicion. She snapped the compact shut, her eyes narrowing.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” she demanded.
Marinette’s eyes widened. “What? No! I—”
“I don’t know what kind of weird prank you think this is, but it’s not funny,” the woman snapped, shoving her mirror back into her purse. “You tell me some ridiculous vampire story, and try to convince me I had a bite mark? Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No, I swear I saw—”
“Save it,” the woman said, standing up abruptly. She wobbled slightly, but she didn’t fall. “I don’t have time for this.”
Marinette scrambled to her feet as well. “Wait! Please, just listen!”
But the woman was already turning on her heel, storming out of the alleyway with stiff, furious strides.
Marinette could only watch as she disappeared down the street.
The bite mark had been there. She knew it had been.
So why was it gone?
~~~
By the time Marinette reached home, her head was still spinning.
She pushed open the bakery’s side door as quietly as possible, slipping inside and carefully shutting it behind her.
She had barely taken two steps up the stairs when a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Marinette.”
She winced.
Tom and Sabine stood at the top of the stairs, their arms crossed, their expressions disapproving. Her father, usually a gentle giant of a man, looked especially serious as he tapped his arm with his finger repeatidly.
“You’re past your curfew,” Sabine said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Again.”
Marinette swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how guilty she must look. “I, um—”
“No excuses,” Tom interrupted. “We’ve let it slide before, but this is becoming a habit.”
“I know,” Marinette said quickly. “I just—” She paused. What was she supposed to say? Sorry, I was too busy witnessing my classmate suck someone’s blood in an alleyway?
Sabine sighed. “Sweetheart, we trust you. But trust goes both ways. When you say you’ll be home by a certain time, we expect you to follow through.”
Marinette nodded. “I know. I’m really sorry.”
Tom’s expression softened slightly. “We’re not mad, just concerned. You know Paris isn’t always safe at night.”
He has no idea how right he is.
Her mother nodded. “This is your final warning, Marinette. If it happens again, there will be consequences. Understood?”
“Yes, I understand,” Marinette said, lowering her gaze.
Sabine reached out and gently brushed a hand over her daughter’s hair. “Go get some rest, sweetheart.”
Marinette nodded, grateful that they weren’t pressing her for more details, and hurried up the stairs to her room.
~~~
Marinette collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Her mind replayed everything over and over again. The woman’s pale, dazed face, Chloé’s bloodstained lips, the low, animalistic growl that had made Marinette’s skin crawl.
Then there was the bite mark. The mark that had been there. The mark that had vanished.
She clenched the bedsheets. It wasn’t possible. None of it was possible. But she had seen it.
Chloé Bourgeois was a vampire.