Matthew got closer and looked at her as she was limp in Jake’s arms. He started to hear the rush of her blood and the pounding of her heart. He could smell her and he felt his fangs grow. He stepped closer and looked at her exposed neck.
“Hurry up!” Nick called out, “You have about three minutes.”
Matthew got closer and started to bring his mouth down on her neck. He could swear he saw the veins in her neck, and the blood streaming through her body.
In his mind’s eye, he could also see the white blood cells and his mind whirled.
White Blood Cells?
That would mean that she was fighting an illness or an infection. He stopped, his mind racing with all the diseases that he could think of that she could possibly be carrying.
He looked over at Jake, “Is it safe?”
“Safe?” Jake asked incredulously, “What do you mean?”
“Disease.” Matthew answered, “Can I catch anything she has?”
“What?!” Jake asked, “No! Now hurry up!”
Matthew opened his mouth, his fangs just a fraction of an inch from her neck. He stopped. He could swear he saw something crawling on her neck. Some sort of microbe. He wondered what sort of bug it was.
“Do you have an alcohol swab?”
Nick called out, “You’re out of time! Do it!”
Matthew still hesitated. Jake sighed and pulled her back to him suddenly, “For the love of God!”
Jake’s mouth opened to show his fangs and in a matter of seconds, they sunk into the skin at the corner of her neck. Her body went tense and then lifeless as Jake sucked on it. Finally, he gently dropped her body on the ground and looked over at Matthew.
Before Matthew could say anything Jake knelt over her body and was muttering something as he made the sign of the Cross. Matthew noticed then that Nick was gone and so was his car.
Jake stood up and walked over to Matthew, “I guess Count Matthew wasn’t meant to be.”
Before Matthew could say anything the world went black…
Copyright 2014-2021 Kohl Media Solutions. All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.