Michael's blood was the first human blood I had tasted in a long time. Once I'd passed my initial bloodthirsty newborn stage, Carlisle had introduced me to his way of living: feeding only on animals, prey we found in the wild. Never humans.

I'd forgotten how good it tasted - it made me want more.

Enter my second attacker.

How was I going to hunt him down? I hadn't considered yet.

Turns out, Michael made it easy for me.

He'd been missing for a couple of days now, enough that people would start looking for him. I made myself invisible in the woods, observing the small search party that had come out looking for him. Royce was among them, of course. But I'd already decided I'd save him for last.

His body was found about two days into their search. Like I suspected, some of the wildlife had gotten to it and they assumed that he'd been mauled in a tragic animal attack. The coroner agreed, meaning there would be no investigation into his death.

One of the friends - another attacker - seemed particularly devastated that Michael was dead. I learned his name - Andrew - and that Michael was actually his brother.

A thought came into my mind. I knew how I was going to kill Andrew.

But first, I needed to go shopping.

I needed to go to a dress store to pick up a black dress. I had a funeral to go to, after all.

Michael's funeral was held a couple of days after his body was found. Closed casket, of course - there wasn't enough of his body left to display, and what was there wasn't very pretty.

There was, conveniently, a bar across the street from the funeral parlour. A lot of people went out drinking after a funeral, to hold a wake for their dearly departed loved one. Andrew, I was sure, would be stopping by for a drink once the service let out.

I was right.

I was already sitting at the bar, pretending to sip on a gin & tonic, when he arrived. He sat a few seats down, looking like he could burst out into tears any minute.

"Rough day?" I asked, feigning sympathy. He didn't recognize me.

"My brother died. Just came from his funeral across the street," he muttered, downing the glass of whiskey the bartender had just placed on the counter in front of him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said. I slid onto the seat next to him. "How'd it happen?"

"Bear attack, up at a friends hunting lodge," he said. "We didn't find him for days after."

"That sounds like a terrible ordeal," I told him. Don't worry, you'll see your brother again soon. In hell, I hope, I thought.

I talked to him for a couple of minutes, making up a story that my husband had been an associate of Michael's, and that we'd come to town for the funeral. He totally bought my story.

My plan had been to slip something into his drink, make him drowsy and unable to fight back. But the way he was drinking, I wouldn't need to. He'd be drunk enough that he could barely walk, let alone fight off an attacker.

"So where's this husband of yours, anyways?" he asked me, slurring.

I looked around, pretending to see if I could find my fictitious husband. "Oh, I'm not sure. He must have stepped out for a cigar with some friends." I checked my watch, feigning annoyance. "Wherever he is, I hope he returns soon. I'd like to get back to the hotel." It was late now, and the crowd had started to disperse.

Andrews face lit up, like he'd had a brilliant idea. "I can drive you to your hotel, if you want. What one are you staying at?"

"The Belmont, just a couple of blocks away."

"Oh, an easy walk. I'm staying there too." Ah, perfect. So no suspicions would be raised when his body was found. They'd simply think he had drunkenly wandered off - plenty of witnesses could attest to the fact that he was drunk - and passed out in the alley. "Well I'd be happy to walk with you."

"That's so kind! You never know who you're going to run into on the streets after dark. Wait for me outside? I have to use the ladies room first." Mostly so we wouldn't be seen leaving the bar together. I wouldn't want to be tied to him when he suddenly went missing, after all.

I went to the washroom, and waited a couple of minutes. I wandered out, asked the bartender for a glass of water and pretended to sip it before I left. That should have left a large enough gap between our departures to not raise suspicion.

There were several dark alleys in the blocks between the bar and the hotel I was allegedly staying at. I waited until we were almost there to make my move, though. "I have to thank you again, for walking me back to the hotel," I told him, a concerned look crossing my face. "Last time I walked alone after dark I was attacked by a group of men who left me dead in the street."

He was too drunk to register that I was talking about Royce, and him, and their friends. I kept going. "Yes, it was just a couple of towns over, actually. A few years ago. My fiance, Royce, he wanted to show me off to his friends. All of me." A look of recognition crossed his face now.

"But-" he started to sputter. I grabbed him by the arm, careful not to break it, and pulled him into an alley.

I covered his mouth so he couldn't speak. "You all left me for dead. You took everything from me," I told him. "But I'm not the same girl I was then. I'm better. Stronger. More powerful than your tiny peabrain could possibly imagine."

Unfortunately if I didn't want to raise suspicions, I couldn't do much to him. No broken bones, no bloodshed. It had to be clean.

"I killed your brother, you know. Found him at Royce's stupid cabin. I played with him before I killed him. Chased him through the woods, let him think he almost escaped. Then I pounced." I gave him a look. "You won't be nearly as fun."

Holding him with one arm, I opened up my purse and withdrew a syringe. It was loaded with insulin, purchased at a pharmacy just hours earlier. Insulin was a medicine that had only recently been discovered - in the last decade or so. While it helped those with high blood sugars, it could be dangerous for people within normal ranges. If the dose was high enough, it could poison a person, leading to their death. The best part about it, was it was undetectable.

The first telltale sign that it was working was his heartbeat - it became faster, irregular. I was impatient, though. "What do you think, Andrew? Should we speed up this process a little? I'm getting thirsty, after all."

I sank my teeth into his neck, drinking his blood. He whimpered, too drunk and too drugged to do anything at all. Carlisle had hypothesised that our bite carried adrenaline with it - giving a rush of endorphins to our victims. I was hoping that was the case - adrenaline in large doses could also lead to heart trouble. My guess was the insulin and adrenaline would work together to make his heart stop. From what I could hear, it was working. It would be only a matter of time until Andrew had a freak heart attack.

I drank until he went limp, and hung around until his heart stopped beating. No one would find him in time to resuscitate him.

Two down, I thought, smiling to myself. This was getting fun.