a grin on his lips.

“I’m afraid if I don’t, I’m going to jump you whether you like it or not.”

Theroen laughed, deep and rich, and stood up to go. But Two called him back. One last kiss, long and deep this time, and during, Two bit her own lip, felt the blood seep from the wound, shared it with him. The taste of it was like fire, like nectar, like life and death and dreams.

And oh, how those mortal fears seemed like candles in a strong wind, blinking out of existence, one after the other.

* * *

Pain lanced through Two’s midsection, stomach knotting, muscles cramping. She sat up, doubled over, gasped. In the depths of her body, a need that had nothing to do with blood, nothing to do with her new nature, reawakened.

Heroin, the pain cried out to her, and Two felt tears standing out against her eyes, thought these themselves felt dry and burned. No. This was over. This was her past. She had left this behind.

Another spasm. Another cramp. Two cried out, arms wrapped around her stomach, Abraham’s words coming back to her.

“She is unclean, Theroen.”

Theroen’s protest, that the change, her rebirth into vampiric immortality, would cleanse this need from her. Abraham’s deceptive chuckle.

Suppose it didn’t? Suppose now she would be trapped in this addiction for the duration of her immortal life?

Two thought that if this were the case, such a life would end more quickly than expected.

And so it went. Two could not remember when Theroen had left her, could not remember how long it had been, had no conception of time. She cursed herself for not remembering to ask for his blood. She cursed Darren for ever giving her the drug. She cursed God for putting her on this earth. Pain and thirst ravaged her. At times it seemed she burned, at others chills wracked her body like physical blows. She did not call for Theroen, though she wanted to. She was afraid only the thing she had met last night would answer.

Just as it seemed she could take it no longer, that she would leap from her bed, dress, return to the city, return to Darren, return to it all in exchange for the syringe which would numb this pain, she felt a presence in the room with her. Her fear gave her a momentary respite from the pain, but this was not the abject terror that she had experienced in Abraham’s presence, nor the quiet awe that Theroen inspired. It was something in between.

“Who?” She asked the darkness at the end of the room.

“Melissa,” Said a voice from the shadows. Two could make out a pair of gleaming eyes observing her. She tried to think of an adequate greeting. Words failed her. Hi, I’m Two. I need some heroin. It was almost enough to make her laugh out loud.

Melissa came forward into the light. She was a study in contrast. Her hair was jet black, long and straight. Her brown eyes had not been lightened by vampirism, only intensified into deep black pools. Her skin was white porcelain, her lips a deep, sensual red. She was beautiful, taller than Two and well built, wearing a pair of black jeans and a cream-colored blouse. She appeared concerned.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible,” She said, sitting in the same chair that Theroen had previously occupied.

“I’m not... doing too good,” Two admitted.

“Sick?”

“Withdrawal.” Two felt a slight flush of shame at this admission, but what did it matter now?

“With...” Melissa’s eyes grew large as she realized what Two meant. She pushed her hair back behind her shoulders unconsciously, bending over Two, seeming equally curious and worried.

“Theroen?” Two asked, trying not to let her voice sound as weak as she felt.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wish I did. I’d get him.”

Two sobbed once, got control of herself, looked again at Melissa.

“Can I have my clothes?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.” Melissa handed them to Two, who pulled them on underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” Two said. She fought against the pain, sat up, forehead rested against her palms, elbows against her knees.

“It’s okay. I guess it’s weird, having some chick you’ve never met staring at you while you’re all sick and naked and everything.”

Two laughed a little, wiped tears from her eyes.

“What kind of drug?” Melissa asked. There was a faint accent to her voice. Two couldn’t place it.

Two did not look up. “Can’t you read it? It’s sort of been on my mind.”

“I’m not like Theroen.