Without my eyes, the knife grows warmer in my hand, like it knows I need something extra from it. I drown out the roller coaster in the distance, the shuffling feet of the men, their heavy breathing, and focus only on the rough wood under one set of fingers and the heat in the other. Knife to wood. Knife to wood. I believe in the movement.

I slam it down.

Then I smile for real because I’m not bleeding. I leave my knife standing upright in the wood while I pull my blindfold up.

Indifference on the short one’s face. Anger on the other’s.

“I was really hoping you’d bleed,” he says. “Double or nothing.” He fishes money from his own pocket this time and adds it to the pile while I dig out another twenty and pull my blindfold down again as I rip my knife out of the wood.

I raise my knife again, chanting what I want from it before swinging down.

My shoulder jerks as someone bumps into me. My knife goes off course, digging through the tender skin between two fingers with a sharp stab of pain.

“Oops.”

I yank my blindfold up to find the tall one standing right next to me. So close, it’s a wonder I didn’t hear him move.

“You lose,” he whispers.

“Shit.” My blood stains the bench, enough that it will be a nasty sight in the daylight for someone enjoying their morning jog.

The short man frowns at my blood. One hand pulls at his beard as his beady eyes shift from my wound to my face to the long knife still clenched in my good hand.

The tall one gives a slow, calculated chuckle. He looks me straight in the eye as the other shifts on his feet. “This is why little girls shouldn’t play with knives.”

Burning. My hand clenched around my knife almost catches fire, the magic hot and angry enough for me to worry my knife will melt and drip between the cracks in my fingers. I stand up to face them as the magic calls to be used, to meld with my desire to see this man bleed—a magic to grant all my wishes.

“Just take the money and go,” I grit out.

“We don’t want the money,” the tall one says. They both stare at my bleeding hand as I realize I misread the want in their eyes earlier.

The blood in my veins feels like it stands still—like if it doesn’t move, they won’t pounce—but it’s not frozen. It drips from my hand as I take the tiniest step back and glance around for help, but I didn’t notice the restaurants closing behind me. I’m alone, but even if I wasn’t, I’m the one who’s supposed to be a vampire hunter. I’m not putting someone else in danger.