46
R U B Y
I saw a woman smiling up at a rather tall man. Her black hair hung in loose curls down her back. The man slid his hand around her waist and pulled her
to him. I could tell he was a vampire from his pale skin—I could feel it in my bones. She held her head back, and he dipped his head to her throat. He looked my way, his eyes as red as blood.
Suddenly I stood amid a battle between werewolves, vampires, and humans, my heart hammering in my chest with fright. It didn't take long for me to realize it was a battle from long ago because of how everyone was dressed. Some were in armor wielding swords and wooden shields. The vampire Bleeders I got a glimpse of were pale, hideous creatures, wearing mostly torn, dirty pieces of clothing. Calling them 'rags' would be a generous description.