11
I’ve been sitting on my bed, staring at the blood for the last thirty minutes. Why the hell did I let Mum guilt-trip me? I thought I was stronger than that. And I should have never got Kate involved. Even possession carries a ten-year sentence—and here it is, in my hand, a small vial. Blood from an actual vampire. For some reason, I imagined that it would look different. I mean, I expected it to be blood, but, well—just different. Christ, it could well be human blood. Even sheep’s blood for all I know.
Or red wine. I take a sip of mine, finishing off the glass, and then sigh, realising that I’ve made a terrible mistake. What the hell was I thinking? I should flush the blood down the toilet, and put this ordeal behind me. Mum doesn’t even know that I have it yet. I could easily say tha
