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I’d read of portals in the scrolls in the halls of the Demon Hunters. I’d seen a witch open one herself, but all the studying in the world could not have prepared me for a moment like this. Instinctively, I knew what to do and I used all the magic within me in order to do it.
Cain stared back at me, his expression one of stark horror.
I snapped my fingers, opened a portal, and left him there all alone.
Wet and afraid, just like he’d left me.
Chapter Five
The days following my escape felt like pure death. My powers receded, forcing me to realize that they were only temporary. My skin crawled and my legs were endlessly restless. It felt like I couldn’t relax or sit still without itching myself or having to move just to feel a little better. I tried to go running and my muscles protested with every last step, so I returned home to suffer alone. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
I was so very hungry.
I cleaned out my fridge and my pantry next, but no matter how much I ate, it didn’t even dent the hunger I felt inside. It was horrid. I wanted to eat everything, and nothing satisfied me. I wanted more. So much more.
When I looked in the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot. Tiny flecks of red pigmented my irises, stark against the brown that they were naturally. My tongue hesitantly slid along the bottoms of my teeth and I wondered if they were still the same as before. Were they sharper? Did they change at all?
He’d bitten me and I’d done the unimaginable.
I’d fed from him. I knew what was happening now and I didn’t want it.
I was in transition and now I had a choice. Either I needed to feed on human blood, or I would die. I would become a demon if I chose to do the first, something that went against everything I ever stood for. Logan, the man who had raised me as if I was his own daughter, would be so very disappointed in me and I hated that.
When I was a baby, I was abandoned on the Demon Hunters’ doorstep and raised by their leader, Logan. I’d never known my parents and I’d never found any evidence as to their true identities no matter how hard I looked for clues about my mother or my father. Despite my mysterious origins, Logan ensured that I wanted for nothing and when I was old enough, he started training me to be a hunter just like himself. Logan taught me a tremendous amount about good and evil and the world of demons that kept knocking on our doorstep. He taught me how to fight and kill evil creatures so well that I rose within the ranks with unprecedented speed.
My only job was to hunt and kill demons. I lived alone in a small apartment just outside Los Angeles provided by the Demon Hunters, so I didn’t have to explain my odd behavior and late nights to anyone. I never went out
hunting with anyone else, so my solitary behavior went unnoticed even though something was very wrong. I was known to go off on my own often despite their explicit instructions not to because I was confident in my abilities as a hunter and a fighter. I was really good at what I did, so they mostly let me do what I did best. Occasionally Logan would check in on me, but he didn’t at all this time. He was probably busy taking care of the recent surge in demon activity to call and see what I was up to. It didn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t be able to rescue me from what was happening. Honestly, it was probably better that he didn’t find out at all. It would be easier that way.
I sighed. I wasn’t ready to be a vampire.
I’d fought against demons and monsters for years. Vigorous training had molded me into a very dangerous threat to all evil that walked the earth. I knew how to kill vampires, werewolves, and all other manners of beasts that escaped from the depths of hell beneath my feet. I’d ended the lives of so many in an effort to keep the streets of Los Angeles safe with the naïve populace none the wiser. I knew that monsters were capable of cruelty like no other and I also recognized that they had no qualms about hurting the innocent to further their cause. I had seen it time and time again and I’d do anything I could to fight against their kind. I would do whatever it took to take them down.
And now I was turning into one of the things I hated most. A thing I’d fought to kill my entire life.
I was becoming a vampire.
Cain had bitten me and he’d forced me to drink from his wrist. Right now, his blood was interacting with mine and without proper sustenance, his would win, and I would die a slow and painful death. His blood would destroy mine. My organs would fail. Eventually my veins would stop pumping without enough fluid and I would desiccate from the inside out.
I had to decide if I was willing to die or if I would be desperate enough to take a human life. I’d heard stories about vampires living off of blood banks, but in order to complete the transition, the blood had to be fresh. It had to be oxygenated straight from the vein. Vampires in transition had little self-control. I’d never read a single report of one not killing the victim that fell prey to their all-consuming thirst.
There were a number of reports of humans in the process of transitioning decimating blood banks in an effort to avoid killing anyone. None of them survived and their bodies had to be removed discreetly in order to keep the public unaware of what they really were. Blood banks weren’t an option for me. Not yet. Not ever, if I turned my back on what I was becoming.
If I wanted to survive, I’d have to drink from someone to do it. I’d probably kill them in the process. My first human kill. It made my skin crawl.
Fuck. I was so hungry.
I tried making a steak and was only patient enough to cook it until it was rare. I ate the entire thing with my hands like a goddamned rabid animal.
I popped a few sleeping pills after that and slept terribly for the rest of the night. In the morning, I woke, and the feeling of edginess was worse than ever. My skin was dry and felt close to cracking in some places. I could have sworn my canines had lengthened too. I filled a glass with water and chugged it all down, hoping that it could help me feel at least a little better.
It didn’t.
I wanted to cry. I’d never been so uncomfortable in my life. I had to stop myself from tearing at my own skin with my fingers.
I ran a bath with cool water. Hurriedly, I stripped, climbed inside, and breathed a sigh of relief at the chilly caress. I managed to soak for several hours and the worst of the dryness and itching subsided. Those few hours without pain were heavenly. Eventually though, the slow agony returned, and my shivering from the cooling water was making my teeth chatter. With sorrow, I climbed out and wrapped myself in the softest towel I owned, which still felt like sandpaper on my skin.
Feeling restless again, I pulled on a dress. I wore nothing underneath because it hurt so much to have anything touch me. I couldn’t even remotely consider panties or a bra because the places they covered ached the most.
