There was no weakness, not anymore. Depleted as I was, there was only energy, potent energy, of a kind I had never felt before.
And an incredible hunger.
Haydn lifted her head to look at me, as if she was searching for something, some assurance. What she saw, I don’t know. Some glimmer of hope? A bogus sign of success? And indication that everything had gone right?Or did she know right away that it hadn’t?
She traced her thumb below my lip and brough the leftover blood to my mouth. One taste and my daggers emerged, sharp and lethal. Later, Pavlov would study the effect in dogs. From that moment, just the thought of blood would instinctively bring forth my weapons.Â