“I’m freezing,” Scarlet said.
Scarlet was ice-cold and clammy to Caitlin’s touch. Caitlin’s heart pounded, unsure what to do: she had never encountered anything like this.
“Mommy, please. It hurts so much! Please make it stop!” Scarlet groaned.
Caitlin’s heart sank, wishing she could take the pain away. She sensed this was no ordinary sickness. Scarlet began to cry.
“What hurts, sweetheart?” Caitlin asked. “You have to tell me. Please, calm down, and tell me,” Caitlin asked firmly, feeling desperate. “Exactly what happened to you? When did this begin?”
“This morning, when I went to school. I was sitting in class, and my eyes started to hurt. They hurt so bad. The light—it was so bright. And then my head hurt. I went to the nurse, and she shined a light in my eyes, and it made it much worse. Everything is killing. They had to put me in a dark room.”
“I had to close all these blinds,” Caleb said. “She said the light was killing her.” Caitlin surveyed the room and noticed the closed blinds for the first time. Her heart dropped.
Here was Scarlet, ice cold to the touch, unable to stand sunlight. Was there any truth, she suddenly wondered, to anything Aiden had said?
“My stomach—it hurts so bad,” Scarlet said. “I can’t explain it. It’s like I’m hungry and thirsty at the same time. But not for food. For something else.”
“For what?” Caitlin asked, sweating.
Suddenly, Scarlet shrieked and curled up into a ball, clutching her stomach. Caitlin was terrified.
She had never seen her like this.
“We have to get her to a hospital,” Caitlin yelled. “Call 911. NOW!”
“Mommy, please, make it stop. Please!”
Caleb turned to get his phone—but then stopped in his tracks. So did Caitlin.
Because at that moment there came a sound that shook the entire room, a sound that raised the hair on the back of both of their necks.
It was a snarl.
They both stopped, frozen, and turned and looked over at Scarlet.
Caitlin could barely process what was happening: Scarlet was now sitting bolt upright in bed, and right before her eyes, she was transforming. She let out a snarl so vicious and hair-raising that even Ruth yelped and ran from the room, tail between her legs.
Caleb, a man Caitlin had never seen scared of anything, looked absolutely petrified, as if he were caged in the room with a wild lion.
But Scarlet ignored them both: instead, she looked towards the open door.
In that moment, Caitlin suddenly understood. Suddenly, she had a flashback to some place—she could not remember where—when she herself was feeling the same thing as Scarlet. A hunger pang.
A need to feed. Not on food. But on blood.
As she saw that look in Scarlet’s eyes, that desperate look, the look of a wild animal, somehow she knew what she was thinking: she had to get out. To escape. Through that door. To sink her teeth into something.
It was at that moment that she knew, without a doubt, that Scarlet was indeed a vampire.
And that she, Caitlin, had once been one, too.
And that everything that Aiden had said was true.
Scarlet was the last remaining vampire. And Caitlin had to stop her from spreading it to the world.
As Scarlet began to get up, to go for the door, Caitlin screamed: “Caleb, stop her! Don’t let her out. Trust me! Just listen to me! Don’t let her out of this room!” Caitlin didn’t want to think of the consequences if Scarlet got past that door, out of the house, roamed the streets. It could change the entire world.
Scarlet, with lightning speed, was on her feet in a single leap, bounding towards the door.
Caleb, to his credit, acted fast. He listened dutifully to Caitlin and jumped in Scarlet’s way, blocking her path. He managed to grab her from behind and held her tight, in a bear hug.
Normally, it would be no competition. Caleb, at six feet four, with broad shoulders, was twice her size, and it wouldn’t even be a contest.
But to Caitlin’s shock—and clearly, to Caleb’s too—it was a struggle for him to hold onto her. It was as if Scarlet were overcome with a super-human strength. As she swayed, Caleb was thrown left and right. Scarlet suddenly threw back her shoulders, and as she did Caleb went flying across the room like a ragdoll. He smashed into the wall with such force, his body left an imprint on the sheetrock. He slumped down to the floor, unconscious.
Scarlet turned back to the door and Caitlin acted fast: she leapt on her from behind, grabbing her in a bear hug the same way Caleb had. It was like trying to hold onto a wild bull: Caitlin was thrown all over the place, and she knew she was no match for her. After all, Caitlin was human. And clearly, she was in the presence of something that was not.
Scarlet leaned back and Caitlin went flying through the air, crashing into a wall herself, and slamming the back of her head.
Scarlet turned and bounded to the door, and in another moment, she was gone.
Caitlin somehow managed to get to her feet. Dizzy, she stumbled out the room, down the hall, breathing hard, determined. She raced down the steps, four at a time, slipping, and then tore through the house.
In the distance, she saw Scarlet running towards their thick, oak front doors; without even pausing, Scarlet put her shoulder into them and smashed them to bits.
Caitlin ran after her, through the open front doors, and watched Scarlet bound across the lawn and leap over the high bushes. She landed deftly in the middle of the quiet, suburban street. She stood there, and leaned back. As she did, Caitlin saw fangs begin to protrude from her teeth, saw her eyes begin to change from blue to a glowing red.
Scarlet leaned back and roared, and it was a roar that shook the entire block, a roar that reached up to the heavens themselves.
It was the roar of an animal determined to kill.
CHAPTER THREE
Caitlin sat in her living room, eyes raw from crying, exhausted, staring out at the blood-red sunset and hardly listening to the police officers who filled her room. She was in a daze. She slowly glanced about her room, and saw that it was filled with people—too many people.
Police officers, local cops, milled about her room, some sitting, others standing, several holding cups of coffee. They sat there with grim faces, lined up on the couches, in chairs, opposite her, asking endless questions. They had been here for hours. Everyone in this small town knew each other, and these were people who she had grown to know, who she had met at the supermarket, said hello to at local stores. She could hardly believe that they were here. In her house. It was like something out of a nightmare.