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She peered into the dark and her eyes widened as a small form fell from shadow.
“Bill.” She answered, confused and afraid at the same time. She knew him. As fuzzy as her brain was, she knew him and she knew what he was. “I’m . . . I don’t . . .”
She shook her head and closed her mouth. She couldn’t articulate the madness inside her mind. It was overshadowed by the hunger.
He sat down on the ground beside her and smiled. “You were dead.” He tapped her on the shoulder. “And now you’re not.”
“First things first.” He motioned toward the shadows, and she watched silently as a young man walked toward her. He was so very pale. Moonbeams emphasized the thin blue veins that carried what she so desperately wanted.
The man stopped and sat beside Bill, who promptly withdrew a sharp knife and plunged it into his jugular. Blood spurted everywhere, and her fangs exploded painfully as her world of darkness became drenched in crimson.
Bill wiped his hands, a look of distaste crossing his face. He nodded toward the dying human. “Feed.” And then he turned away though his voice drifted back toward her as the night enveloped him.
“I’ll be back. We have lots to discuss.”
Ana was awash in fire and consumed with need. She hissed, and everything faded away until there was nothing but pain.
A groan fell from the young man. His life was leaving him. Ana pulled him close and fed.
