The diner sat at the edge of town, a tired building with a flickering neon sign that read "EAT" in pink letters. Steam fogged the windows from the inside.

Through the glass, a figure sat alone in a corner booth. She'd arrived an hour ago. Her food had gone cold.

The bell above the door chimed.

A family entered — five of them, all moving with a strange, fluid grace that didn't match the slippery linoleum floor. They were beautiful in a way that made people stop and stare. Pale. Perfect. Wrong.

The youngest of them — a boy with bronze hair and golden eyes — froze mid-step the moment he saw her.