warehouse or factory. In the very center, the ceiling had caved in. Someone had been industrious enough to cover it with plastic tarps. It was dark and cold. Ominous shapes huddled in every corner.
I heard heartbeats, coughing and quiet moans. The smell of fear in the room was as thick as the unmistakable odor of hopelessness.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
Dahlia shrugged off her coat and spread it on the ground. “A donor house.”
I must have appeared not to understand her, because she rolled her eyes and sighed as though I were incurably stupid.
“A place for vampires to go and get a quick bite,” she said. “A quick bite, get it?”
I nodded dumbly. “I get it…but who are these people?”
“The donors?” She plopped down cross-legged. “Who knows? Maybe they’re homeless and just need some shelter. Maybe they’re freaks that get off on the thrill of it. Or maybe they’re like me.”
“Like you?” I asked.
A skinny girl with a dirt-smudged face and greasy brown hair pushed past me. One of her bony shoulders slipped from her threadbare jacket as she shoved me aside.
“I need the money,” Dahlia said as she motioned for me to sit down. “The point is, these people are desperate enough to give you what you want. Those Goth freaks at the club don’t know shit. You’re better off trolling under bridges for homeless people than going back to that hole.”
I wanted to leave. The place reeked of sweat and smoke and despair. But I needed blood, so I knelt beside her on the crumbling cement. My heart beat faster and I shuddered in anticipation of sinking my teeth into supple pale flesh.
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“Fifty dollars, cash.” She produced a wooden stake from the pocket of her coat. “And you stop when I say, understood?”
The stake quenched the animal fury building inside me. I didn’t know specifically what would happen if that thing touched me, but my imagination was fueled by the memory of the gaping wounds in Cyrus’s chest.
My numb fingers fumbled for my purse, and as I tugged on the zipper, the contents spilled onto the floor with a clatter. A compact fell open as it dropped to the ground. Through a miniature mushroom cloud of powder dust, I saw my eyes reflected in the mirror, wide and scared and excited. I thought vampires didn’t have reflections. It struck me as hilarious that I hadn’t thought of that before. I handed Dahlia the money with shaking hands.
She counted it, smirked in satisfaction and tucked the bills into her bra. “Okay, then.” She placed the point of the stake above my heart, swept her hair back and bared her throat. I traced the line of one blue vein down her neck to her collarbone with my finger. My breath came in gasps. I thought my heart would explode the way it beat so wildly in my chest.
I felt the point of the stake as I leaned down to fasten my aching mouth to her skin. Her neck was warm and soft. I bit down. The flesh yielded crisply like the skin of a ripe peach, and her blood gushed into my mouth so fast I nearly choked. The reality of my situation suddenly overwhelmed me. A moment ago I had not been a vampire. At least, not as far as I was concerned. Now, as I greedily gulped down the blood of this strange girl, I was truly initiated. She moaned, and the sound vibrated through me like an electrical current. The implications of what I’d done made me nauseous. The possibility that I might not really be a vampire at all flashed through my mind. Maybe I made the whole thing up. Tearing my mouth from her neck, I struggled not to vomit.
“Hey! What’s wrong?” Dahlia shouted.
I didn’t answer her. From the shadows, someone ordered us to keep quiet. I couldn’t control my sobbing. I frantically grabbed the spilled contents of my purse and tried to stuff them back inside with shaking hands.
“Where are you going?” Dahlia asked, one hand on her neck. I
I heard heartbeats, coughing and quiet moans. The smell of fear in the room was as thick as the unmistakable odor of hopelessness.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
Dahlia shrugged off her coat and spread it on the ground. “A donor house.”
I must have appeared not to understand her, because she rolled her eyes and sighed as though I were incurably stupid.
“A place for vampires to go and get a quick bite,” she said. “A quick bite, get it?”
I nodded dumbly. “I get it…but who are these people?”
“The donors?” She plopped down cross-legged. “Who knows? Maybe they’re homeless and just need some shelter. Maybe they’re freaks that get off on the thrill of it. Or maybe they’re like me.”
“Like you?” I asked.
A skinny girl with a dirt-smudged face and greasy brown hair pushed past me. One of her bony shoulders slipped from her threadbare jacket as she shoved me aside.
“I need the money,” Dahlia said as she motioned for me to sit down. “The point is, these people are desperate enough to give you what you want. Those Goth freaks at the club don’t know shit. You’re better off trolling under bridges for homeless people than going back to that hole.”
I wanted to leave. The place reeked of sweat and smoke and despair. But I needed blood, so I knelt beside her on the crumbling cement. My heart beat faster and I shuddered in anticipation of sinking my teeth into supple pale flesh.
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
“Fifty dollars, cash.” She produced a wooden stake from the pocket of her coat. “And you stop when I say, understood?”
The stake quenched the animal fury building inside me. I didn’t know specifically what would happen if that thing touched me, but my imagination was fueled by the memory of the gaping wounds in Cyrus’s chest.
My numb fingers fumbled for my purse, and as I tugged on the zipper, the contents spilled onto the floor with a clatter. A compact fell open as it dropped to the ground. Through a miniature mushroom cloud of powder dust, I saw my eyes reflected in the mirror, wide and scared and excited. I thought vampires didn’t have reflections. It struck me as hilarious that I hadn’t thought of that before. I handed Dahlia the money with shaking hands.
She counted it, smirked in satisfaction and tucked the bills into her bra. “Okay, then.” She placed the point of the stake above my heart, swept her hair back and bared her throat. I traced the line of one blue vein down her neck to her collarbone with my finger. My breath came in gasps. I thought my heart would explode the way it beat so wildly in my chest.
I felt the point of the stake as I leaned down to fasten my aching mouth to her skin. Her neck was warm and soft. I bit down. The flesh yielded crisply like the skin of a ripe peach, and her blood gushed into my mouth so fast I nearly choked. The reality of my situation suddenly overwhelmed me. A moment ago I had not been a vampire. At least, not as far as I was concerned. Now, as I greedily gulped down the blood of this strange girl, I was truly initiated. She moaned, and the sound vibrated through me like an electrical current. The implications of what I’d done made me nauseous. The possibility that I might not really be a vampire at all flashed through my mind. Maybe I made the whole thing up. Tearing my mouth from her neck, I struggled not to vomit.
“Hey! What’s wrong?” Dahlia shouted.
I didn’t answer her. From the shadows, someone ordered us to keep quiet. I couldn’t control my sobbing. I frantically grabbed the spilled contents of my purse and tried to stuff them back inside with shaking hands.
“Where are you going?” Dahlia asked, one hand on her neck. I
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