Retribution

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She couldn’t see.

Her nose wrinkled. Something smelled bad. Smelled of urine and vomit and . . .

Death. She recognized it, though she shouldn’t have been able to. She wouldn’t have been able to twenty-four hours ago.

She was afraid. He was supposed to be here. He promised to be here.

She stepped closer to the wall, away from the door. The dark clutched at her with icy fingers. She was too new. She felt vulnerable, exposed. Her blood, his blood, ran through her veins, but it offered no protection. Where was the strength he promised? The freedom from fear?

She began to shake. She was so hungry. She needed to feed. He said he’d be here to help her. To show her what to do.

A sound, the scrabbling of claws on concrete, made her jump. Her skin tightened at the base of her spine. There were rats in here. Rats. He didn’t expect her to eat rats, did he? No, he’d have to let her feed from him again if that’s what he had planned.

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