Silverwood Academy was just as she had imagined it. The main building was three stories tall with large marble steps leading to a double entrance, at least ten feet high, with columns across the front of the porch. The east and west wings were only two stories high on either side of the central part of the school, but she knew the structure stretched back fairly far, making an expansive footprint in what she would’ve imagined had to have been farmland just a few days ago. The school looked like it had been here for a couple of hundred years, as it had been in her story. Ivy clung to the dark brick in patches on either wing, and with the plentitude of mature trees shading the building, this place looked slightly ominous.

Rachael stood peering through the wrought iron gate, which connected to a high brick wall that ran all the way around the hundred acre campus. Constructing a wall that massive out of brick would’ve cost plenty of money if it hadn’t been done purely out of her imagination.

Behind the school building proper, she imagined she’d see the garages Graham had mentioned, as well as the dormitory and a few other buildings. The gym was also at the back of the main building so the domed roof didn’t take away from the grand facade she was gazing at now.

Gripping the iron with both hands, Rachael didn’t even realize she’d pressed her face against the barrier until Graham said, “You don't have to crawl through. We can drive--if you’d like.”

Red colored her cheeks, so Rachael removed her face from the fence and slowly turned to look at him. “Okay.” Play it cool, Rach.

He stood in front of his car, his arms folded across his well-chiseled chest, a smirk on his handsome face, and she considered noting aloud how lovely it was that she amused him. She thought better of it, though when she realized there was already a fondness behind that amusement, as if he was already starting to like her, to think of her as part of the team--or maybe more. So rather than draw attention to his obvious feelings, she smiled sheepishly and got back into the car.

The iron gate took its time opening, once Graham had pushed a button on his dash, and Rachael wondered if he’d mind programming her car since she was awful at that sort of thing. Of course, that would only matter if she was actually planning on moving her life here. It seemed crazy! She would essentially be packing up her entire apartment, moving away from her friends and everything she’d knowns since she started college seven years ago--and transplanting it into a book. It was insane. She felt like she must be insane.

The gravel drive wound around to the back of the main building to where Rachael expected she’d see the large garage, but Graham didn’t go that way. Instead, he took the circle that went to the left, up to the front of the building, and turned off the engine. Rachael stared at the marble steps, following them up the porch. Every detail, even to the designs at the top of the columns, was exactly as she’d envisioned it would be. There was no sign on the outside of the building that said this was Silverwood Academy because otherwise, anyone who wandered too closely might be intrigued enough to see what this place was all about. But Rachael didn’t need a sign to tell her exactly where she was and what she’d find inside.

Graham opened her door before Rachael even realized he was out of the car. Luckily, she hadn’t been leaning on it, or she might’ve fallen out into the gravel. He still had that smile on his face, but she didn’t turn red this time, only climbed out of the car and started up the walkway, Graham following behind her.

The thick doors were carved in an intricate design, and if one looked closely enough, they could see dozens of wooden stakes hidden within the pattern. She couldn’t help but grin when she saw it, and Graham said, “You noticed, did you? Most people don’t.”

Rachael ran her finger over the outline of one of the larger stakes. “I noticed.”

He chuckled and pressed a passcode into the door before pulling the left side open for her. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready for years,” she replied. He arched an eyebrow at her, but didn’t ask what she meant by that, and Rachael stepped across the threshold into Silverwood Academy, her boots clicking on the highly polished white marble as if noting the significance of this moment, not only for her, but for all of the characters she’d created who had walked these halls before her.

Graham was already giving her important information about the layout of the building, but Rachael didn’t hear much of what he was saying. Her eyes were fixated on the large portrait at the end of the hall. She knew the administrators’ offices were on their right, and on their left was a lounge for instructors and a few other rooms that had to do with the running of the school. She knew that the library was a large, round room in the center of the main building, that the east wing was designated for history classes while the right was for the scientific classes he’d mentioned earlier where she’d learn to control parts of her brain she hadn’t utilized before--a less spectacular way of saying that’s where she’d learn to do magic.

Halls ran from both wings to the back of the building where one could enter the gym from either side or walk a bit further to exit the building altogether to take the exterior path to the dormitory. The cafeteria was housed there, as well as living spaces for the faculty and staff, and all of the students. She knew that most of the faculty lived on campus whereas other workers--such as custodial, groundskeepers, secretaries, etc. lived in Waynesboro. All of those people had been sworn to secrecy, and all of them had cover stories for where they worked.

Graham reiterated all of this while Rachael made her way down that hallway, her eyes wide, staring at the portrait. When she finally reached it, she stopped, and Graham gave her a moment.

The man in the painting looked exactly as she’d described him. Dashing with dark hair, slicked back on top and gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, his face defiant as he raised one hand toward the artist, his fingers gripping a stake. His clothing was regal, velvet in hues of burgundy and burnt orange, his jacket flying back in the wind as he made his way across a cemetery to stop the undead. His black boots rose to his knees to meet his brown pantaloons, and around his waist he wore a belt with two revolvers, though it was the stake that would bring the beast down.

The resemblance between the man in the painting and the one standing next to her was evident, especially around the chiseled jawline and the perfectly proportioned nose. But what made it even more obvious that Graham was related to the vampire hunter of old was the shade of their eyes--both lavender, both sparkling, both the sort of eyes a woman could get lost in.

“This is my great-great-grandfather,” Graham said, looking at her as if he thought she might already know. “He began the academy back in 1789. This building was constructed in 1808.”

Rachael nodded, but she couldn’t think of a way to articulate what she was feeling. It was like another man had just leapt right out of her dreams, and though this one had died many years ago, the fact that he’d existed at all was both shocking and awe inspiring at the same time.

With a deep breath, Rachael looked the man in the painting in the eye and said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Graham Silverwood.”