A pause, then he gently takes my leg, his weak pulse beating through his fingertips. I inch my hand under his injured leg and carefully give it a soft tug. He yells out in pain and the sound carries for miles. This time I’m not as gentle. I yank on it and when it slips loose, the weight of him jolts me down. I clamber to snag my fingers onto the rock, my hands getting scraped raw as we tumble toward the ground.

Just before we hit bottom, I manage to hitch my fingers onto a rough ledge.  The force of the stop almost tears my body in half, my bones snapping, my muscles stretching. But I pull through, thrusting myself onto the ledge with every ounce of my strength, dragging Aiden up with me. He rolls onto his back, groaning.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine.” He turns onto his stomach and glances over the ledge. “I think we’re fine.”

He’s lying. I lie down, staring up at the cliff, wondering how in the world I’m going to get him back up to the top. He crawls over to me and lies breathlessly beside me, so we’re head to head, arm to arm, leg to leg. I don’t ask him what he saw over the ledge or what we should do. Because I know all we can do is wait until morning.

And hope none of them smell the blood before then.

I’m still awake when the sky starts to shift from black to gray and then vampires start to flee for the caves, out of sight, out of mind, at least for now.. The ash and smoke is growing thicker and seems to be traveling from the direction we’re heading, so that means the city has to be getting closer. Aiden’s fast asleep, curled up, his head resting on my lap. He’s not afraid of dying, but afraid I’m already dead. But his fear is twisted because his heart rate is steadily decreasing with every passing minute and his leg is bleeding, his skin turning a ghastly shade of white. I’ve been watching him for a while, waiting for the wound to heal. Whenever someone is hurt, they heal within a few minutes. So why isn’t he healing? I think about how exhausted he was while we were running and worry there might be something wrong with him.

“Aiden.” I give him a soft shake. “Can you hear me? Are you awake?”

His eyelids flutter open, honey eyes glossed with pain, lips dry and cracked, voice nothing but air.

“Why aren’t you healing?” I ask. “Your leg—it’s still bleeding.”

His eyes roll shut and he wraps his arms around him. “Because I’m human,” he mutters.