In my dreams I’m dying all the time
The necromancer’s blood didn’t ooze down Marjani’s neck for long – the woman was already squirming, wriggling in her grasp. Nishaa could already tell this woman was going to be hell, she was going to keep Nishaa on her feet. Nishaa rarely sired – she had sired Abbadon, force sired her actually – offered her no choice, filled her up with her own blood then killed her, a snap to the neck and it was all over for her – until she came back to life. She snorted in remembrance before looking down at her small bundle, the thrashing woman.
Then I wake up, colliding strange minds.
Nails dug into the vampire’s shoulder, they dug down hard and deep. Nishaa dropped the human bundle to the ground and arched her back straight writhing in pain. Eyes squeezed closed as she began to let air fill her dead lungs. A human habit. When her onyx orbs opened to look at the woman, she was nowhere to be seen, the woman had assumed she had done a runner. Nishaa did like a chase, made it much more enjoyable – the blood sweeter, granted the woman didn’t have much blood left in her system. Nishaa had drunk most of it.
I never meant to go to, I never meant to lie.
Gathering herself, and her hunger until control she began to walk in the general direction of the blood – she could smell it in the air, the fear too. She was like a dog, hunting its prey. The woman had her own blood within the woman’s veins, so she would turn into a vampire no matter what regardless. She needed to die, or better yet. Die on her own, from bloodloss. She scoffed pushing her raven hair into a ponytail so it was no longer scraping against her small wound on her shoulder that Marjani had given her.
So this is goodbye.
- ”I like it when they run.”
She said, following the trail. Heck, if the woman wanted to play hide and seek from the vampire, she could always get her wraith to help – he hadn’t tracked in a while. The bounty hunting was quiet for now, to many good boys and girls in Canada right now.