DEAD SEED (AKA "Vampires Don't Exist")

THREE: Familiar Face

Where was she? The last thing she remembered was being picked up as if she weighed nothing. Then a few moments that seemed unreal: she had flown at such a speed that the wind had been knocked out of her and she passed out.

Now she had come to in a strange bed, in a strange room with a single dancing candle lit beside the bed. The flame flickered on a small wooden table. The bed she was in was old and uncomfortable; the mattress was springy and dipped in the center. The air was damp and smelled musty.

Aralyn sat up on her elbows, cringing at the stretching pain on her neck. Her fingers went to her throat where she felt something there. A bandage was adhered tightly to her skin. There was another one over the cut on her cheek.

Someone had put bandages on her, but who? Was the someone a rescuer or kidnapper? She feared the worst — if the someone had been a rescuer they would have taken her to a hospital, wouldn't they?

Still in the bed, her eyes wandered around the room as she tried to figure out where she was. The walls were concrete and had several cracks running through them. The smell of dank earth made her believe she was in a basement. There was a sliver of a window just above the bed. Foil covered the glass, heavily duct-taped around the edges to keep it in place. How odd.

There wasn't much to the room, only the bedside table with the candle and the brass-framed bed she was lying in. The sheets that covered the mattress were black and silky. The top sheet clung to her body, which she suddenly realized was naked.

Aralyn began to panic, taking deep breaths. She jumped the rest of the way up, holding the sheet tightly against her body. Who had undressed her and what had they done? She shuddered at the thought of what may have happened to her while she was asleep. She frantically searched the room, looking for a way out. The window wasn't the kind you could open and even if it were, it was too small to crawl through.

She looked for a door. The outline of it was barely visible in the dim light of the candle. She spotted the brass knob first and started making her way to it. Fumbling around in the darkness, she reached the door and slowly turned the handle so it wouldn't make any noise. But when she realized it was locked, the panic returned. She shook the knob. The door rattled in its frame.

"Let me out!" Aralyn pounded on the door with her fists until her hands hurt. She gave up after several long minutes and went back to the bed, tears blurring her vision. Where was she? What was her kidnapper's intentions? Was she to be left in this dank basement to starve and thirst to death?

The door suddenly burst open, making her jump, and interrupted her thoughts. Aralyn secured the sheet tighter around her body and looked to where a figure stood in the shadows, watching her for a moment. It was silent for what seemed like eternity. Blood pounded behind Aralyn's ears. Her voice shook when she finally found her voice.

"Who ... who are you? And why did you bring me here?"

"Who am I?" A gruff but feminine voice mocked. "Maybe you need a closer look."

The shadow of the person hissed and dashed to the bedside as a blur. Aralyn gasped, shocked at how quickly they had moved. She shrank back against the pillows, terrified of what the person — or thing — may do to her.

However, when the person's face became illuminated in the light of the candle, Aralyn's eyes widened in shock.

She knew this person.

"Claire?" Aralyn whispered in disbelief.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Standing right here in front of her was her supposedly dead sister. She looked different. Her face had changed; her once kind, green eyes now had a cruel shadow in them. Her skin, which used to be kissed by the sun was now pale as the moon, almost translucent. Her dark brown hair was now a curtain of black curls. But it was Claire.