Blood...it slipped between her delicate fingers like a waterfall being drawn down into a precipice by an uncontrollable force. As much as the water could not slow it's descent she could not stop the hemorrhaging and as beautiful as the clear mountain spring would be to a parched traveler, the blood was like both ambrosia and nectar to her. It made her throat burn and her eyes glisten with unbidden tears as she fought her most basic need, it was one that was so new and yet seemed at that moment so very natural. To feed.

The precipice grew with alarming clarity as she raised her bloody palm to her lips. It was not the water which had fallen into its depths, but her soul. With the first lap of her slightly roughened tongue she knew she was lost and that there would be no turning back. Head over feet she tumbled into its depth driven by that very primal need, feed. It was a hunger that rose up from the pit of her belly cresting into the most inhuman scream. Was it her screaming?

Or the man before her? No, it had to have been her. He gazed at her with eyes of the palest blue, now dull and lifeless. Moments before they had shown with such wild emotions that had now overflown and found their form in the still wet tears that were as quickly as they fell drying on his smooth, tan cheeks. It was with startling clarity as she gazed down at this man remembering the pure, unadulterated fear in his gaze that she realized three things.

One, she had just killed her family doctor. He was a father of four and she'd known him since before she had memories. He liked his mistresses young and he had been known to gamble, but that wasn't reason enough for him to die. Admittedly he hadn't been the most attentive in his marriage or family life either, but he still had not deserved this. Even if he had it would have never been her decision to make. She was neither God, nor the law. Yet, here he laid before her on the cold cement of the hospital parking garage bleeding from a gaping wound in his throat. It was only 12 degrees outside and she knew soon he would without a doubt be cold in more ways than one.

Two, she was either suffering from some strange unknown fixation with blood or she was indeed a...vampire. A fictional, mythical, diabolical, sexual...really however you wanted to look at it creature of the night. Unfortunately, she was about 97% sure it was the latter and every old B rated vampire movie she'd ever seen ran through her head in less than half a second. She wasn't a big movie buff. Bram stoker and Twilight's the Cullens, that was more her style but she sure as hell wasn't Bella or Sookie for that matter. The thick taste of copper ignited on her tongue, yes…How could she have forgotten?

Then there was number three. It was the most pressing and alarming of them all. At least to her, perhaps to you murder and mythical creatures was more your fare. Her stomach roared in protest almost on queue, as the thought danced across the front of her mind with the clarity of a neon strip-mall sign in Vegas. She was still hungry...no, she was starving. And her fresh, new heightened sense of hearing could pick out not only the sound of approaching shoes, but the rushing blood pouring through the woman's veins and the delicate thrum of her pulse.

How she knew it was a woman she was unsure, but she could tell with each sharp click of her heels it was most certainly not a member of staff. What nurse or doctor for that matter would be wearing a pair of $3000 leather boots with a terribly uncomfortable stiletto heel. She would say what man, but then she remembered Franco, a very flamboyant male stripper who adored those very same boots. After all she wouldn't have even recognized them as something different from the Wal-Mart or Payless brand if not for him.

The sound stopped and her thoughts turned a much more dangerous route. One, she had not even seen coming having been lost so deeply in her own thoughts. While she'd drifted away into the land of gum drops and male strippers her body had acted on its own driven by nothing more than the need she was so desperately trying to shut out, feed. She watched like a disembodied spirit as her fingers tightened their grip around this woman's long, delicate, swan like throat and...snap! The sound echoed through the parking garage and her teeth sank with the precision of a trained killer into the carotid artery of this poor, delicate lamb.

Yes, a lamb. This woman was just as innocent as a small defenseless baby sheep and now she was dead. She'd served as her starve-crazed dinner like that baby lamb that now sat on some rich aristocrat's plate in some expensive restaurant she'd never been to and probably never would at this point. Would they serve it with mint? She'd never eaten lamb herself, but she wasn't sure how mixing meat and mint would be appealing. Then again, she hadn't imagined the taste of blood would appeal to her in that moment either, but it was like wine and this woman was her lamb.

She didn't know this one. She'd never seen her, but as she licked her teeth clean and gazed at her with the same detached interest she had Dr. Fell she felt...absolutely nothing. Her spirit form watched the next few moments unfold with the horror that could only come from what was left of her sanity and at this point, that wasn't very much. The woman was just Dr. Fell's type. Young, blonde, leggy, and she smoked. Not that you'd be able to tell from her artificially enhanced white teeth. She plucked the lighter from her purse and clucked her tongue in disapproval. Yes...this would work.

In the morning, the newspaper would read of a terrible accident. A doctor and his mistress had perished in a freak explosion. They'd met for an illicit rendezvous, one thing led to another, the lady's cigarette fell and the rest was history. Poof! Goes the magic dragon, or was it puff? Oh, what did she care? They would now be two charred corpses killed in a freak accident, not unsuspecting victims of a prowling mistress of the night. Her heel hit the ground with a nearly inaudible click and she paused with the lighter in her hand, a smirk painting its way across her lips. They were excellent boots. It would've been such a waste to let them burn.

She flipped the lighter into the car and stalked off with a new found dangerous sway to her hips only pausing briefly to feel the rush of heat as the explosion met her ears. Her lip quirked, her lamb would be well done. She paused as she began to pass a closed store front. It was her reflection that had caught her eye. Like a glass breaking in an empty ball room it all came rushing down. Her hands began to tremble and the nausea came upon her so violently the sound of her knees cracking against the sidewalk echoed the sound of her stomach expelling its contents.

She crumbled as the image brought back her sanity and tears flooded her pale violet eyes. So light they were almost translucent she still remembered the Nun's words when she was a child. She'd been blessed by angels and it showed in her eyes. No, in that moment she realized it was not a blessing, but rather a curse. A curse from demons. Her righteous curls were matted with blood and as pale as the blood was red. She hated her appearance, but there was no denying she was beautiful. Flawless golden skin, a heart shaped face, a perfect cupid's bow, and exotic cat shaped eyes. Each compliment caused her stomach to roll. Ghost, her female classmates called her. Angel, the nickname from the boys. She despised both.

It had been those boys who had destroyed everything. The bruises that had just hours earlier marred her skin had melted away. Rape, it was a harsh word, but it was what they had wanted to accomplish. A graduation party gone wrong. The hatred from the girls mixed spectacularly with the lust from the boys. She hadn't even wanted to go. It wasn't as if she drank or for that matter even had money to spend on alcohol. They weren't her friends and clearly neither was Andrea. Her lab partner for nearly every science class in her college career had stabbed her in the back with the proverbial scalpel.

The terrible thought of what would have happened if he had not been passing by...Sirens met her ears and an uncontrollable instinct shot her to her feet. She ran faster and harder than she'd ever imagined and as the nausea faded that aching hunger returned. It was overshadowed by the face that she could not imagine how she could have possibly forgotten. When he'd gazed into her eyes and told her she was safe, every ounce of fear had melted from her body and she'd crumbled into his arms. Even as he whispered in her ear those strange words she knew she could never shy away from him, if he wished to hold her forever she would never leave, "Chava, history repeats itself with you."

Where was he now? She prayed she hadn't ripped his throat out too.