walking so she could focus on the mind-bending information. After a moment’s consideration, she asked, “The Sanctuary finds these people?”
“No, it makes them,” he clarified, which Gwen found utterly jarring. “Sometimes hikers get injured, usually if they’re alone. The scouts at the Sanctuary spend all day combing the wilderness for animals in need, but when we come across a hiker in need, we bring them here and make them like us: shifters. If someone’s only injured in a minor way then we’ll arrange for transport to the nearest hospital. But if someone’s unconscious, sick with infection from injuries, or otherwise half dead, we’ll bring them here.”
“So I’m a shifter?” Asked Gwen, hardly able to believe any of this except that she had in fact watched a man turn into a wolf before her very eyes.
“Not quite,” he said. “You had blood cancer.”
Had ? Gwen felt a zing of excitement at his use of past tense.
“When we turn people into shifters their blood constitution remains pretty much intact. It holds the same composition. If we’d turned you into a shifter, you’d still have cancer. You’d still die in a few months. That’s why Christoph is here.”
“The Italian guy,” she added.
“Yeah. The Administration didn’t have the means to save you, but he did.”
“How did he save me? Just tell me,” she said turning frustrated once again by his lack of forthrightness.
“Our only option was to replace your blood. We had to turn you into something that would completely cure you of the cancer in your blood.”
“And?”
Brandon gazed deeply into her pleading eyes. They were bright blue. Her mop of blond hair blew in the breeze, falling into her eyes, as the light shifted overhead.
It was nearly dusk. Gwen ran her hand across her forehead to clear it of her side sweeping bangs, as she exercised patience.
“You’re a vampire,” he said.
It took Gwen’s breath away, though her mind didn’t race. Rather it seemed to go blank. She felt unusually calm, or maybe stunned was a better way of putting it. She was reminded of her original diagnosis, the way she’d gone blank then flew into a fit of wild laughter. Would she now lose her mind just as abruptly?
She didn’t. Unlike the death sentence her doctors had delivered, what Brandon was telling her was quite the opposite. It was a life sentence. She would live, and if memory served her, if all those vampire movies she’d seen were true, she would live for a very, very long time.
“I’m sorry,” she said after staring at him in a speechless state for too long. “It’s hard to wrap my mind around this. I didn’t think any of it could be real. You know you see things on TV and it's just fantasy. If it wasn’t I would’ve heard about it, you know? It’d be in the news or something. Vampires don’t exist.” Her rambling bubbled up into uncomfortable laughter. Oh good, she thought, that meant anger was next.
“They do exist,” said Brandon as kindly as he could. “And so do werewolves.”
“This is insane,” she said, finding herself pacing ahead and running her fingers through her hair again.
Brandon shadowed behind her even though he could tell she wasn’t actually going anywhere. She turned on her heel and they nearly collided, but he stepped back just in time.
“What day is it?” She asked, randomly.
“Thursday.”
“No, it makes them,” he clarified, which Gwen found utterly jarring. “Sometimes hikers get injured, usually if they’re alone. The scouts at the Sanctuary spend all day combing the wilderness for animals in need, but when we come across a hiker in need, we bring them here and make them like us: shifters. If someone’s only injured in a minor way then we’ll arrange for transport to the nearest hospital. But if someone’s unconscious, sick with infection from injuries, or otherwise half dead, we’ll bring them here.”
“So I’m a shifter?” Asked Gwen, hardly able to believe any of this except that she had in fact watched a man turn into a wolf before her very eyes.
“Not quite,” he said. “You had blood cancer.”
Had ? Gwen felt a zing of excitement at his use of past tense.
“When we turn people into shifters their blood constitution remains pretty much intact. It holds the same composition. If we’d turned you into a shifter, you’d still have cancer. You’d still die in a few months. That’s why Christoph is here.”
“The Italian guy,” she added.
“Yeah. The Administration didn’t have the means to save you, but he did.”
“How did he save me? Just tell me,” she said turning frustrated once again by his lack of forthrightness.
“Our only option was to replace your blood. We had to turn you into something that would completely cure you of the cancer in your blood.”
“And?”
Brandon gazed deeply into her pleading eyes. They were bright blue. Her mop of blond hair blew in the breeze, falling into her eyes, as the light shifted overhead.
It was nearly dusk. Gwen ran her hand across her forehead to clear it of her side sweeping bangs, as she exercised patience.
“You’re a vampire,” he said.
It took Gwen’s breath away, though her mind didn’t race. Rather it seemed to go blank. She felt unusually calm, or maybe stunned was a better way of putting it. She was reminded of her original diagnosis, the way she’d gone blank then flew into a fit of wild laughter. Would she now lose her mind just as abruptly?
She didn’t. Unlike the death sentence her doctors had delivered, what Brandon was telling her was quite the opposite. It was a life sentence. She would live, and if memory served her, if all those vampire movies she’d seen were true, she would live for a very, very long time.
“I’m sorry,” she said after staring at him in a speechless state for too long. “It’s hard to wrap my mind around this. I didn’t think any of it could be real. You know you see things on TV and it's just fantasy. If it wasn’t I would’ve heard about it, you know? It’d be in the news or something. Vampires don’t exist.” Her rambling bubbled up into uncomfortable laughter. Oh good, she thought, that meant anger was next.
“They do exist,” said Brandon as kindly as he could. “And so do werewolves.”
“This is insane,” she said, finding herself pacing ahead and running her fingers through her hair again.
Brandon shadowed behind her even though he could tell she wasn’t actually going anywhere. She turned on her heel and they nearly collided, but he stepped back just in time.
“What day is it?” She asked, randomly.
“Thursday.”
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