The library was quiet, as libraries are. Some students worked skillfully at computers, or searched within the aisles of books the library offered; each person yearned for wisdom; they were the only kind of people allowed to step inside the massive, archaic building.

In one of the rows of books, a girl sat on the floor, poring through a thin yellow book. She closed it, glancing absently at the cover and replacing it to its rightful spot. Some of the books were piled neatly at her knees, and she gathered them when she stood, looking thoughtfully at the spines of books she’d never before set eyes on.

It took her a while to see a man dressed in black who was looking at her between the shelves. The girl quickly turned away, blushing. Her dark hair of brown was braided, but some stray strands cascaded down her face at the sudden movement. The man was following her.

When they came to the end of the aisle, she stood back as he appeared before her, he being strong and confident. The black clothes accented his white-blonde hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. He looked at her, his sturdy mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’m Strough,” he whispered in a deep, soothing voice.

The girl huddled against the bookshelf, looked at him more boldly, then cast her eyes to the carpeted floor.

“Melissa,” she whispered in reply.

“Ah.” Strough nodded. He blinked and tilted his head to catch more of her looks. His gloved hand went under her chin in a water-like movement, and with a thick finger, he lifted her head for a better look.

“How old are you, lady?”

“Seventeen, sir,” she whispered again, hugging her books closer to her chest. Strough leaned closer; letting her look into his dark eyes, close enough for her to see the blue in his eyelashes.

“Put your books down,” he commanded gently. Without taking her eyes away from his, she set her books down on the shelf to her left. Strough smiled wryly.

"You’re an innocent kitten, aren’t you?” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head to the other side and running his gloved finger around her jaw line; she nodded.

"Hmmm…" He kissed her, his hand wrapped gently around her jaw. She twitched under his lips, then stilled. They lingered for a while, unmoving, but then Melissa stepped closer to him, her hands at her sides.

Strough tilted his head a little farther and opened his mouth, forcing hers to open with his tongue. Melissa's backside jolted and she stood on the tips of her toes for a more tenacious kiss, breathing hot through her nose, the sound louder than their forgotten whispers.

Melissa's hands reached up and her nails dug into his cheeks. Her fingernails were naturally pink and groomed. As their kiss deepened, Strough let go of her jaw and held her waist with one hand, his other touching her all over, his gloved fingers aching to feel her bare skin. Melissa’s tongue began to taste Strough’s eagerly. Her back arched, pressing herself into him as his hands continued their journey over her body, and small, breathless moans escaped from the back of her throat.

Strough pulled away for hardly a second, before kissing her passionately again, biting her lips and growling softly. She sucked on his in return, her knees beginning to feel weak.

Melissa's fingernails began to turn into a dull pink color, then faded to transparent, her blood showing beneath. She could feel the cool sensation, but then the sensation turned to heaviness on her fingers as her fingernails turned to iron. They were dull and a slate gray, with a metallic tinge, like she'd painted on expensive nail polish.

She pulled away from the kiss, gasping, holding her hands in front of her. Her lips were redder than they had been, and her new iron nails weighed down her hands. She could feel the weight on her toes, too.

Strough stood back with a smug, satisfied look on his face.

"Now you've had a taste of bliss."

Melissa, still holding up her hands in disbelief, looked breathlessly and quizzically at him.

"But…"

Strough held up his gloved hand to silence her, his eyes narrowed in warning. "It was bound to happen, just perhaps not like this, not so soon, but it was going to happen." He studied her for a moment. “You’ve been one of us all along, and now you have the proof.” He saw her look, and answered the unasked question, "Until something or someone comes to convert you. But let us hope that doesn't happen, nobody wants to lose such a pretty girl, not from his, or her, league. Just remember what your fate was first, Melissa," he said before kissing her on the brow and turning to leave.

"Wait!" She gasped. Strough turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"Wait… what… what am I? Where…?"

Strough smiled. "Now you're truly alive." He grinned. "Welcome to my world." With that, he left her.

The librarian ran breathlessly around the other side of the isle, gasping for air and trying to compose herself at the same time.

"What are you doing? This is a library!" she whispered hoarsely. Melissa hid her hands under her books, handing them to her, thinking she must have yelled.

"I want to check these out," she said. The librarian looked at her as if she was crazy, but Melissa smiled, hiding her emotions, and the librarian did as she bid.

At the counter as the woman checked out the books with care, one title in her stack of books unknown to Melissa caught her eye.

Magic and Body: What You Really Are. Gently, Melissa touched her lips, and felt the softness of them for the first time. She licked them; they tasted of water. Velvet water, she thought with a smile. She glanced at her nails. They were her iron nails, deceiving her innocence like her lips. She suddenly knew what she had to do.

Out on the street, some days later, she saw a young boy, no more than fourteen.

He walked into a pet shop, and Melissa followed him, her black gloves looking incongruous in the sunny weather of the day, her lips smiling a sweet secret as she went through the door.