"And if I were dying?"

Turn away from the stars that never fail to fascinate me, turn towards my beautiful Elizabeth. There's a half-smile on her lips, the sardonic arch of her eyebrow trying to convince me that my answer doesn't matter to her, when it truly means everything.


Her eyes unwavering. "You heard me."

I sigh, my arms behind my back, my hands pushing against the soft soil of the earth as I lean further back.

"If you were dying, would I make you a vampire?"

Elizabeth smiles. "You got it."

I turn to look at her. Her soft, mortal arms and the line of her neck. "No. I wouldn't."

She doesn't believe me.


She's dying.

Her normally flawless composure is shattered as she screams at me. "Save me! You know you can."

Foolish mortal. Her soft mortal arms are reaching imploringly towards me, white and unstained still by the blood pouring out of the knife wound in her heart. One hand is still holding the knife which she plunged into herself, it's edge stained dark by her blood. I catch hold of her hand, my arm winding around her as I hold her in the strange parody of a dance.

Swaying slightly, with my lips in her hair, and my shirt soaked with her blood, I murmur.

"I'm sorry, my dear."