Blood on Roses [COMPLETED]

Thirteen: Complications

"Ultimately, no one can escape nature's wrath. A vampire is destined to be a killer as soon as he is born."
~ Henrietta King

THIRTEEN

I finished another novel at 4 AM. Not needing sleep was every reader's dream. I couldn't have read five books within twenty-four hours if I got too exhausted halfway. I decided that five was enough for one day and got out of bed.

I rolled my shoulders, causing my bones to crack. This was how you knew you were in good shape. 

The last time I took a night stroll wasn't the best time of my life, but I think I'd be okay this time around. After all, what worse could I possibly see?

I noted the changes that occurred since the last time I went out at night. An office building that was usually pitch dark at this hour was luminous from the first floor to the eighth.

There was only a week left in March, and only two weeks left of my humanity.

I didn't get too far until the smell of blood invaded my nostrils. My neck snapped to the walking street that was a mile away. It wasn't the smell of human blood. The scent was unfamiliar, and there was a high possibility that it could be animal blood.

I decided to be the moronic protagonist of a horror movie and go check it out. I checked myself on my phone camera and mentally sighed in relief when I showed up in it. My eyes were still a warm shade of hazel. I needed to reassure myself because the last time I caught a whiff of blood, my eyes swirled blood red.

I hoped that the night would cover me as I picked up my pace. I quickly located the source of the scent in an alleyway between two stores. I was right; a Siberian Husky laid, whimpering, amongst garbage and on the wet ground with a bleeding leg.

Instantly, I dashed over. I squatted down and inspected his physical form. Rainwater and mud mixed with his black and white fur. Blood had already diffused into the ground. I wanted to check the collar for a possible phone number or address, but I accidentally grazed the leg wound. The Husky howled and whined loudly in pain.

"I'm so sorry!" I whisper-shouted. I was at a loss. He didn't have a collar. What should I do? Did the police handle such things?

"What did you do?" I stood up and turned around to a girl's voice. I was shocked to see a pair of angry blue orbs engulfed in smokey eyeshadow.

Before I could respond, she sped past me on her high heels and kneeled down next to the dog, not minding the wet ground on her dress.

She pulled out a dry towel and applied pressure to the wound. The Husky snarled at the girl since it was in great distress. I gasped when he bit her arm. She didn't even flinch and focused on stopping the bleeding. Her arm sustained no injury as the Husky continued to growl.

The injury stopped bleeding soon after. The girl grabbed a bottle of water from her bag and began to clean the gash while inspecting it. I watched in awe as she applied gauze and finally, a bandage to the cleaned wound. She had everything she needed in her purse.

The girl's shoulders rose and fell in relief. As soon as she stood back up, she turned to me, enraged. "What did you do to him?! How could you beat a puppy?!"

I mentally sighed. You can't just assume the first person here is the culprit. Coming out tonight was a mistake, after all.

I explained to her that I arrived before she did when the puppy cried but didn't know how to treat it. She gradually calmed down and lowered her arms from her hips.