Vampiric: Chapter Four, Part 2

It felt like forever before I came out of the darkness again, which, if they had drugged me, would make sense. Someone was talking, but the words weren’t quite registering in my brain. The conversation was about me, and about moving, and was slowly becoming more understandable the more I came out of the blackness.

“She’s dangerous,” a voice said.

“And I said I want proof,” another, gruff voice snapped.

“What kind of proof?” the first again, sounding uncertain and nasally.

Instead of trying to move my entire arm, I tried just my fingers this time, finding they moved quite easily. I slowly tried sitting up, rubbing my eyes in hopes everything would stop being so blurry.

I saw the light glint off the metal before I heard it slice through the air. Shifting the air, I diverted the object, sending it straight into the wall. One of the people had just thrown a knife at me. Though definitely wide-awake now, I found all I could do for a moment was stare in disbelief at the projectile. These people were crazy.

The only thought in my head said to run, but I wasn’t sure I could do that. Standing, I was so shaky, I was sure I’d fall over. I didn’t know where I was, and suddenly that was a very big deal. I didn’t know how long I’d been here, or if Drei had given up looking for me.

Everything around me was becoming more distinct, and I could see I was in a small, black room with one blinding light overhead—which may be why I had thought it was a white room earlier—and a small work area with small lights over a paper-strewn desk. There was a silvery cart in the corner near the two—

One of the men was moving quickly towards me, something in his hand.

“Take it easy,” he said, brandishing a syringe with a needle big enough to scare any sane person.

The air formed a large slab and smashed him into the opposite wall. I wanted to curse the light for not covering more; there didn’t seem to be a door anywhere, but there had to be. There used to be three people in here and I didn’t see any corpses—then again, did I really want to? I spun around, trying to find some telltale sign of an exit: a handle, a break in the black walls, anything. Then there was sharp prick in my neck, a gloating voice, and the spiraling return of the blackness I had nearly escaped.