The entire day went by in a whirl. It was like being stuck on a merry-go-round, but you didn't want to get off. With my new powers I re-entered the fray, joining the now growing ranks of undead, attacking in groups and vanishing without a trace. I remember feeling privileged to be among the select few, especially when I saw the other hopefuls yet to be bitten, those who didn't have such good friends to surround then and turn them. I obliged some, others I scoffed at. I preferred to attack those who were passionate about doing away with us; a bite administered to them always yielded great quantities, and it was always sweeter from it being pounded through the mortal body and replenished with oxygen. I saw my friends on occasion, mingled in with the glowing eyes and wax faces, but most of the time I concentrated solely on invading yet another Gaian's personal space.

As I fought, I found myself beginning to learn new skills. Aside from the gradual adaptations like learning the swiftest way to pounce, grab and bite, the more I feasted, the more powerful I grew, and soon the power began to show itself in various surprising ways.

The first that came to me was a particularly deep bite. I made to bite the neck of another nameless victim in my soon-to-be-long list, when I felt filled with a white-hot rage, and the bite I delivered to him suddenly went so deep that it seemed as though I must bite off the entire section of his neck if I did not hold myself in check. My eyes widened in surprise as my face was splashed with blood; it flowed so profoundly that I was beginning to choke with the trouble of taking it all in. My victim's scream had a whole different pitch; it sounded in my ears like the sweet music played at fancy restaurants when one eats. When I withdrew, I had to pause in the shadows to catch my breath, shaking my head with wonder at the surge of power I had felt. A fellow vampire joined me in the shadow and smiled at me, her fangs red and dripping. "You've gotten a special power. The more you feast, the more you'll have." With no further explanation, she disappeared in a puff and I could just make out the tiny bat winging its way skyward like a scrap of tattered cloth. I stared up long after the bat had vanished, wondering when such a power would be mine.

I learned thereafter to use my developing powers in moderation; using any of them too many times left one rather drained and slow, making you more vulnerable to the hunters, who were still out with a vengeance, for they apparently had their own goals to meet and powers to earn. I liked the dangerously violent bite, for it took away an entire fifth of the victim's lifeblood, but it also depleted easily half of my body's stored power, so I used it sparingly. I settled for weaker attacks, for when you attempted a stronger attack, you in your fervor had a greater tendency to miss and leave yourself wide open to your victim's retaliation. Better to be calmer and get your small amount then go for a greater feeding and risk losing your life, or worse, transforming back into the land of the living.

Other powers came into light: the ability to move quickly and enable me to attack more victims in less time, and the ability to turn into mist after a successful attack to avoid retaliation by the hunters (I never really used that one very much; separating yourself like that feels really creepy).

My powers of healing grew along with my powers of hurt, although if I had my way, I'd probably redirect some of that energy more toward the fighting and biting abilities. Still, it was good to return the favor after limping time and time again back to the base, begging for a healing. I learned how to share blood, heal more quickly, and in rare cases where help was needed sorely, the ability to fully heal by the sharing of souls. I must admit, that last one I used only once, and it took ages for the fragments of the other's soul to finally return to their own body.

It got to where I could restore almost half of the life of a vampire, placing them well out of danger from the unwilling transformation into a human. I was sympathetic with those who came in so near to death, or life, if you will. They seemed genuinely terrified of turning and they were frequently seen, almost in tears, exclaiming that they didn't want to turn back. I felt for them; I myself would sooner die and stay dead forever than go back to the life I had once led, condemned to one form, walking around with your insides sloshing, your blood flowing like water through veins and arteries. It seemed almost criminal, like a feast set out on a table and no one around to eat it.

As my power grew, so did my rank. At first, we were drilled like battle recruits by Vladimir Von Helson and his second in command, Zhivago; promises to whip us into shape and make us worthy to be part of the army of undead that would in time swallow all of Gaia. I returned time and time again, and as I advanced with the others, that attitude changed from grudging admittance that we might be worth something as a vampire after all, to open praise of our achievements. I felt as proud as though I had won a reading trophy instead of contaminating the blood of over 150 Gaians.

Finally, after what seemed like no time at all, I achieved what I had for so long desired; Zhivago's nod of approval, the rank of Elder, the ability to transform whenever I wished into a bat, and the highest and most destructive of our powers; a lethal bite that not only had the strength of a strong attack no matter how hard I bit, but would actually leech away almost half of the victim's life and transfer it to me. I could hardly wait to try it out, and the first time was pure elation. It made my first bite pale in comparison. The rush of power flowing through my chilled body made me feel like I could turn right around and lift up the Wall of Gambino with my bare hands.

It was the happiest I had felt since turning. The entire battlefield was open to me now; I had reached the point of perfection among vampire-kind. The cruel jabs of the humans' wooden stakes now seemed like so many flea bites, and even their strongest were painful but trivial, like a broken arm or a bruised rib. I felt as though nothing could touch me, and nothing could come between me and my victims.

And yet...as I stood there in my selfish glory, my thoughts suddenly turned to Edmund. I had promised to help him with the approaching menace, and here I was a menace in my own right, the very one he had asked me for help against. I had promised, and I had betrayed him.

The thought quieted me, and on a whim, I donned my bat form and flew over to where the human's base was said to be. I landed in a tree, turned back, and slowly climbed down to watch the entrance and its comings and goings. It seemed busy enough; humans walking, crawling, and even running in, clawing at their skin and trying to tug out their rapidly growing fangs, others being carried in by the self-appointed human healers, and every so often, a stray vampire, head lowered, asking humbly to be given the cure for their 'ailment'.

Edmund himself was overseeing the traffic at the door. He ushered in the wounded, but if a vampire approached, he chased it away. "Away with you!" he would shout, "Back to the shadows with your bloodthirsty kin! Unless of course you have come for a cure..." It was almost like a ritual, and I watched it for hours, fascinated. Some vampires were just there to attempt to spy or breach the base, but none ever got far enough. I wondered with small amusement that if Edmund could see this well with glasses, his vision was probably such that they weren't needed. Then again, I mused, people in Gaia wear glasses for looks, and not always for practical use.

Suddenly, Edmund's head turned and he caught sight of me. I froze, wondering what he was going to do. I knew, of course; he was going to ask if I wished to be cured. I would be taking part in a ritual that I had been watching for the past several hours. The thought frightened me unreasonably, and the thought that came on the others' heels almost turned me to stone. Suppose he recognizes me? "That's silly," a small voice in my head said, "He recruited tens of thousands of Gaians, and I would bet that somewhere in the mix there are at least ten who look just like you." "JUST like me?" another voice shot back, "Suppose he remembers seeing something singular about you? Your eagerness to help, or even something you had been wearing?" I could just see the first voice rolling its theoretical eyes, but my own voice said, almost too low to hear, "He wouldn't know, but I would." At that moment, I heard him call out to me. "Have you come to be cured?" It startled me so much that I immediately transformed and took off into the night as though the Four Horsemen themselves were after me.

I lay here now, still shaking from my visit to the base. I can't stop thinking about him, and how he seemed to look right through me when we when he asked me if I wanted to be cured from my vampirism. I know he says it to every vampire that comes to him, but I can't help but think that there was more meaning this time around, as though he knew my anguish and was offering me a chance to take it all back and start again.

But I like being a vampire. I like my relationship with shadow, and even my wonderful and terrible blood thirst. I feel awful for going back on my word, but would I really give up what I had wanted so badly and tried so hard to get? Besides, what if he didn't even remember me out of all his potential recruits, and here I am worrying my hair into grayness for nothing? Gah, I'm worrying about worrying; how ridiculous is that?

I really hope this is all a conscience-based ordeal and not the result of a budding crush. I read somewhere that vampires have a tendency to become amorous. Note to self: ask Zhivago if there's a way to bypass that. I would ask the Von Helson sisters because they're easier to approach, but they're entirely wrong for that question.