I awoke with a cough. And another. It continued until my throat was sore.
Am I dying? I wondered.
And then I remembered. I was supposed to be dead.
A man rushed over to me with a cup.
“Drink this,” he ordered.
His voice was deep and steady. Had he saved me? Why?
My coughing refused to stop so I sat up in bed and took a sip of the drink. It was sweet and cool. I drank it all eagerly.
I nodded before turning my full attention to the stranger. He had brown hair and intense brown eyes. They reflected no emotion.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Lucas.”
“You saved me.”
“I didn’t want to be saved.”
I replayed my suicide attempt in the back of my mind. My poor Stella. I needed her. She needed me. Focus. You can’t break down now.
“Thank you for your help but I need to leave. My family will be looking for me.”
Lucas grabbed my hand before I could leave the bed.
“You have no family.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, Catalina.”
I pulled my hand out of his grip. I felt uneasy.
“How do you know my name?”
“I asked around.”
I edged away.
“Catalina, you lost alot of blood. There was no way to save you.”
“But you did,” I said.
“Not without a price. Catalina, you’re a vampire.”
I stiffened. No. No no no no no.
My gaze fell on the cup he had given to me earlier.
“That was blood.”
“You’ve heard the stories?” Lucas sounded surprised.
“Of course I have.”
All of London was amused at the stories of monsters lurking around at night, waiting to drain us of blood. I had never thought that the stories were true.
“There has to be some way to kill me,” I begged. “I can’t live. Please, Lucas!”
I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I hastily wiped them away.
I simply sniffed in response.
“You can turn it off. You can stop it.”
“I’ll help you.”
That single small act of kindness from Lucas had repercussions lasting for centuries.