“ Yes , my dearest ,” he said , “ drink . Drink deeply and we shall share eternity together you and I .” She paid no attention to him . “ Remove the stake my darling ,” he instructed , “ and together we shall travel the world .”
After a moment he realized that her intent was to drain him . “ You bitch ,” he said quietly , “ how patient you were .” When finally , his last drop had been taken , his body withered and turned to ash . Gathering up the corners of the sheet , she opened the window wide and cast him to the night breezes .
She sat naked in the middle of the bed , drawing the covers in tightly around her . She could feel the poison she had sucked from him begin to take hold . Her heart slowed . Her blood thickened . Its luscious red grew darker and darker until it became the black of the tattooist ’ s ink . Her fingers trembled , clenching and unclenching uncontrollably . The flesh of her arms , her legs , her shoulders , were aflame , yet ice cold . She felt as if she was sculpted from hardened steel , like the sword that had slain her husband . Her heart stopped . Her blood turned foul . She was the weapon now . She was the killer . And as she died , she felt the new rush of power and immortality surge through her . Just before dawn , she killed a young village girl , placed the body in her own bed , and without a single glance over her shoulder , left the tavern burning behind her .
She quickly learned that it was easier to hide in the chaos and confusion of the cities that were growing across the continent . Amidst the squalor , disease and filth , death constantly swirled around the living . As she mastered new skills required for the urban hunt and kill , she also became
133