She could feel the blood on her, the heat. Taste it lingering on her tongue and she craved more.

 I should feel… bad. I should feel horror, anger, guilt, something. 

She just felt numb.

I… just killed a man. Bit them, drank their blood like some kind of beast. 

Despite the thoughts, she couldn’t help the warmth slowly spreading through her, the hum of energy and the need to move, to run, to something. Everything was brighter, scents sharper. She could hear… another heartbeat.

With a false sense of calm she tore her gaze from the carcass to the other man. Fire still clawed at her throat as she coiled ready to pounce. It was an itch on her bones, it was something terrible and beautiful all wrapped in a cacophony of utter and delicious greed. She had always been greedy. 

I could have more. I could… 

With a tilt of her head she watched him. He had frozen in place, his sidearm half drawn. His face was feverishly pale, terror rolling off him in waves as his eyes bulged. He licked his lips and took a step back, as she took a step forward. He raised his gun as she coiled, ready to rush forward. A curious lightness settled in her gut. She was excited. Her fingers itched, her core coiled, and with a swipe of her tongue tasted blood that lingered on her lips. Hot. Alive. Thrumming with untapped power. 

It would be so easy to have just another taste.

Just as she took her next steps, a cold command rang out.

“Enough. Control yourself, or be nothing but a beast,” The wraith spoke. 

Like icy rain over a fire, the red haze dimmed and thoughts came clearer. The hunger clawed still but less so. She shifted her pose, shoulders dropped, head back and she relaxed. 

Am I just going to kill ANOTHER person? What is wrong with me? I can’t-- can’t just take a life. I’m better than that right?

Cold sharp guilt oozed through her, with the icy jab of fear. 

I-- the body, I need to get rid of it or… do I just run? 

Her eyes glanced at the pale woman, desperately searching her face for anything, direction, guidance, comfort? She had no idea. 

All the while the remaining man took advantage and bolted at a dead sprint, racing towards an open bay door in one of the buildings. Ice clawed at her throat, mixing with the burn as she watched their sprinting form. He would get away. She would get caught for murder for… She had to stop him.

“Wait!” It was loud, but not a shout. A desperate command, a desperate plea to the universe to listen, to stop, to give her some breathing room. 

To her surprise, the man stopped, and toppled forward stuck in a pose mid-stride. She moved forward, one step then another until she was staring down at him, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, she thought she could… kill him, drink his blood, feel that rush again. After all it was these men that-- That killed her.

On the other hand she should hand them over to the cops but… she couldn’t. Not with what she was. Whatever she was, but then… the police would know what she did. She could let him go, but  he could hurt others. Come back and try and hurt her again, or other people may look for her, or… too many possibilities. She shook her head against the pressure building in her forehead.

All she could see was herself, that fear she had felt as Elliot beat her. Over and over with that bat of his. The blind and building pain, the broken arm, the fear. She couldn’t-- didn’t want to do that to another. But the smell of his blood pulled at her like a leash in the hands of a lover. She couldn’t look at him, or she would and-

“Go.” She whispered, “Just-- go.”

Immediately the man stumbled forward crashing through debris as he bolted into the darkness. She didn’t dare watch. She knew if she did, she would chase him down. She knew because that is exactly what she wanted to do, more than anything she had wanted in a long time. More than she missed her whiskey on the bar at home.

She took a long slow breath, just to feel herself sigh. It didn’t help and in fact it felt strange, wrong, almost alien. Still she let herself lean against the grimy wall of the warehouse. The woman stood next to her now. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. It was like… a faint sense of pressure on her skin. She didn’t look at her, she didn’t want to.

“You let him go.” The woman said.

She wasn’t sure why, but she had that same inky feeling of being dragged down, down, into the depths of the void again. Like she did-- when she woke up? She wasn’t sure. Her mind spun trying to make sense of everything, trying to filter what was important, and not important.

“Why-- why are you just, what, watching me? What even are you?”

“Because, fledgling, I wish to.”

“You wish to. That’s it?”

She didn’t respond. Mel looked up, looked into her eyes. They were cold and sharp. She didn’t know what to think. Her mind was still spinning on what she should have done. She just literally ate a person. He was delicious. Cops don’t take well to that, let alone the murder part. I-- shouldn’t have let them go. Should I have?

“Tell me, fledgling, Do you regret letting him go?”

Her throat constricted, her breath caught before she could speak. She didn’t want to answer that, afraid to say it out loud.

“He-- He is going to tell the cops or… or whoever the hell sent him.” Mel whispered.

“And whose fault is that, fledgling?” Her voice hummed as she stepped closer, cornering her against the wall. 

Heat blossomed in her stomach and rage curled her spine. She hated this cryptic bitch, with her less than helpful comments. She hated her confident stride and her strange charisma and that she acted like she knew what the fuck was even happening. 

“So what the fuck should I have done? Chase him down and maul him to death?”

“No.” She said, quietly. Simply.

She reached out and brushed her cool fingers along Mel’s chin pulling a little of the smeared blood with her.

“You chose your course. Now you live with it.” She smiled, a slow pleased smile, the kind a cat has when it catches a mouse. 

What the fuck do I do now?

She could feel the blood soaking her shirt, she felt it covering her chin. She could feel the burn and smell the lingering blood, and she wanted more of it and didn’t trust herself not to do something stupid. She couldn’t go home, there was no way to explain this to Danny. But she desperately needed a change of clothes and to clean up. She needed… ugh. She needed a whiskey. 

“I can’t have whiskey anymore, can I?”

“No.” She kept that same Cheshire smile.

“So… what was that? This whole, you're watching me thing.” 

“A test.”

“A test. A fucking test?” Mel was incredulous. “A test of what!?!”

“To see if you could reign yourself, fledgling.” Her smile, softened, though still held that predator edge. “To see what you would do. Do you think that you are strong, fledgling, because you didn’t kill him? No, you just learned how hard it will be to resist next time. There will always be a next time.” 

Her shoulders slumped. She hated what that woman just said. Truly and utterly hated what she said because she was right. It sounded right and that scared the living shit out of her.

“The hunger does not fade, fledgling. You will crave it. Always. You will fight it. Eventually you will lose.” Her voice was quiet, but held the hardness that only truth could hold.

“What do you even want with me?” Mel asked, her voice quieter now. 

“You assume I want anything at all. Take care, fledgling.”

With that she turned on her heel and walked away. As soon as she stepped out of eyesight, Mel knew she was gone. She had to figure something out, figure this out. All of this was wrong, even beyond the… ugh, vampire, thing now. She shivered at finally putting it name.

Wait. They said it couldn’t look like a robbery. They wondered if it was ‘that chick’s’ bike. Were they referring to me? The other one, other-- vampire I guess, also referred to them as my killers. Could they--

She reached for her throat. Nothing, no marks, yet she could have sworn she woke up in a lot of blood. Did she make the mess or was all the blood on her clothes and self… her blood? That’s absurd. Is it? I did eat a man. 

She hesitated, she had an idea. An idea that sounded very strange in her mind, but… might work… if she wasn’t in some dying dream. Walking back to the corpse of the first man she knelt down, and sniffed at the air. 

Blood. Coppery, tangy-- sharp, almost bitter.

A grey curling in her stomach, she struggled with the strangeness of this new sensation, with how easy it was to smell and categorize information. It wasn’t disgust, but she almost wanted to retch at the thought of it. 

Get it together Mel. You don’t have time to be a baby. Now I just have to smell the blood from where I rose, I guess.

She stepped forward with far more bravado than she felt and returned to the alley, and flinched as she saw how much blood pooled there, a whole hell of a lot. Much like… much like the corpse she just photographed tonight. A quick smell and she could tell it was different blood, something heady and sweet. She was murdered. Not by a vampire, but by men. But for what purpose?