The vampires gained more ground. She looked over her shoulder, screaming again at the sight of her pursuers. The glass of my window muffled the sound and I was glad for it. I wouldn’t have wanted to hear the full might of her mortal terror.

Looking back proved to be a fatal mistake. Her feet tangled beneath her and she sank to the ground. All four vampires fell on her. She didn’t scream this time.

It took them only a moment to finish her. As they dispersed, I caught a glimpse of the body, or what was left of it. They’d ripped her apart and fed until not even her organs remained inside her mangled corpse. She looked like a rag doll whose stuffing had been ripped out.

I turned away from the window, my body shaking. My heart raced and my lungs burned with the exertion of my heavy breathing. But my reaction came not from horror. Not from disgust at what I’d seen. I’d liked it.

I’d wanted to be with those vampires. I’d wanted to feel her flesh tear beneath my claws, to rip skin and sinews with my teeth.

Now I, Dr. Carrie Ames, who took the Hippocratic oath before a crowded auditorium, vowing to never cause harm, never aid death, wanted to kill.

Sick to my stomach, I forced myself not to look at the grisly scene as I reached to pull the curtains closed.

I went back to bed, but sleep eluded me. Primal and raw, my hunger tormented me. The knowledge I could simply walk down the hall and pick out a tender, willing human to feed from made it ten times worse. Shuddering and sweating, I resolved to stay where I was. I could ask for blood—in a cup—after sunset.

But that seemed so very far away.

Through the day, as I lay awake, I heard the secret door to the sitting room open several times. I’d jolt upright and listen to footsteps cross the floor. They always retreated before they reached my door.

Exhausted, I fell asleep just before sunset. I’d only slept an hour when the footsteps returned.

Thinking to catch Cyrus creeping around my parlor, I pulled on my robe and headed for the bedroom door. The house was spooky enough without him lurking around. I was surprised to find that it wasn’t Cyrus who was making all that noise, but the butler. He went about his business, opening the drapes and building up the fire. I didn’t think he’d seen me enter until he spoke.

“Don’t get any bright ideas or I’ll push your demon ass into this fireplace so fast you’ll be in hell before you know what happened.”

I approached him slowly, not doubting he meant what he said. “I’m not that kind of vampire.”

If you say it enough, maybe you’ll believe it.

“Sure. I suppose you’re a good guy, right? We get a lot of those around here, so you’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you.” He pulled back the collar of his tuxedo jacket and revealed a series of bumpy, keloid scars on his throat. “Bite me once, shame on you. Bite me twice, shame on me.”