Dahlia pulled the blade out of me and wiped it clean on the front of my shirt. “I don’t know why he keeps doing this. He knows you all die.”

“You’re not making any sense,” I wheezed, clutching my abdomen.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m not making any sense?” She brought the weapon down again, piercing my side. “No! He’s not making any sense! He says he loves me. He promises to give me power. But it’s not time, Dahlia! It’s not time! Then he wastes his blood on a piece of trash like you! Look at you. You can’t even stand up.”

She kicked me. It was a dangerous thing for someone to do to a wounded vampire, and this knowledge was apparently as much of a surprise to her as it was to me.

Leaping to my feet, I lunged for her, fueled purely by agony and instinct. I wrestled the knife from her hand and brought it to her throat.

“I didn’t take anything from you,” I whispered into her ear. “He didn’t mean to make me. I was an accident. I’ve got no interest in you, your vampire boyfriend or any of this fucking vampire crap.”

I threw her to the ground. She peered up at me through her disheveled hair. Her eyes were hard and furious.

“Yeah, you were an accident all right!” she screamed. “But it doesn’t matter! You’ll be dead by morning!”

My anger deserted me, and the weakness returned. Dahlia’s voice was too loud, too shrill. Blood flowed freely from my wounds. I knew I needed to stop the bleeding, but I could think of nothing but getting away from Dahlia.

I staggered through the rail yard. Every step I took felt as though I were descending into a dark, warm pit. My pulse thrummed in my ears. It was slowing.

The impact of my footfalls on the uneven ground jarred my ankles and sent shock waves of pain up my legs. When I reached pavement, my body seemed to know where to go on its own. I moved in slow motion, but I must have been running because I reached Nathan’s apartment in a matter of minutes.

I stood stupidly on the sidewalk, unsure what to do as I pressed my hands feebly against my torn flesh. I knew my car was parked nearby, but I didn’t have my keys. I looked helplessly up and down the street, shivering. I yearned to be at home in my bed. I settled for Nathan’s doorstep. At least there I would be shielded from some of the biting wind. Dahlia might have followed me, but the more pressing desire for warmth and sleep outweighed my fear. If she did come to kill me, my exhausted brain reasoned, I would finally be able to rest in peace.

I don’t know how long I lay there before the snow began to fall. Big, fluffy flakes, straight out of a Christmas movie, floated to the ground. I watched a few land in my palm, where my lack of body heat allowed them to gather without melting. I started counting them, but when the storm picked up I couldn’t count fast enough. I contented myself by watching the swirling patterns of snow and wind on the sidewalk. My eyelids grew heavy. Unable to fight sleep and not sure why I’d tried in the first place, I closed my eyes.