A familiar voice woke me. It was Nathan. It took a moment before I realized he had hold of my shoulders. He shook me frantically. He shouted at me and clapped his hands in front of my face, but I was too exhausted to respond.

My head lolled to the side. A brown paper bag lay forgotten on the sidewalk. The contents rolled across the snowy concrete.

“Your shaving cream…it’s getting away,” I mumbled, trying to follow the canister with my eyes.

“Don’t worry about that.” He turned my face to his. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I said as I tried again to give up and sleep.

Nathan shook me the moment my eyes slid closed.

“What?” I whined, and tried to push his hands away.

He cursed and gripped me tighter. “Wake up!” he yelled. When I didn’t, he slapped my cheek.

My eyes flew open and I sputtered in shock. “What? Just let me go back to sleep!”

“I can’t! You’ve lost a lot of blood. If you go to sleep, you’ll die.”

Then I felt the pain, a twisting, pinching feeling in my gut. As if I’d eaten broken glass. I clutched his arm, writhing in misery. He shrugged off his coat and quickly wrapped it around me. “I’ve got to get you inside,” he murmured. He scooped me into his arms and carried me through the door, up the stairs to his apartment.

Five

Decisions, Decisions

I woke to the gentle sound of someone humming Pink Floyd’s “Brain Damage.” My eyes snapped open in alarm.

Judging from the clutter around me, I was in Nathan’s apartment. I couldn’t remember how I got there. My stomach growled, and my memory slowly returned. I’d been hungry. I’d gone in search of blood. Then I’d met Dahlia.

Being stabbed, now that’s something I definitely remembered. I lifted the blanket that covered me. My wounds were carefully bandaged. Dried blood stained the gauze wrappings, but I resisted the urge to poke at them. It didn’t take much to upset a fresh wound, and I didn’t want to start bleeding again.

I reached up and gingerly felt my face. Completely monster-free. Aching all over, I sat up. My torn sweatshirt had been carefully folded on the arm of the couch. I pulled it over my head quickly, trying not to dwell on the fact that Nathan had seen me in my ratty, laundry-day bra.

“Feeling better?” he asked as he entered the living room.

I could smell the blood in the mug he carried. My throat was a desert and my stomach was trying to digest itself, but I turned my face away.

“Drink,” he said, holding out the cup to me. He must have sensed the reason for my reluctance. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen a few vampires in my time.”

“Not like me.”

“Exactly like you.” He knelt in front of me, and I hid my face. My bones shifted under the mask of my fingers as he pressed the cup against the backs of my hands. “You need to drink this.”