Chapter 6

With her animalistic instincts guiding her, she scurried into the night, the shadows of trees and bushes her cover. The landscape that passed swiftly by her resembled an artist’s painting of wet, running colors. The wind rushed into her face as the mutation began to reverse itself. With every turn of a corner, every thrash of her beating heart, her red, bristling hair slowly lost its fiery hue and changed to its white-blonde color while it flew wildly in the wind. Her lowered hairline began to move upward, her feral appearance slowly giving way to the delicate, porcelain beauty she had been born with.

As she continued to run through the countryside, her mind went back to the night Cristo had died, to the night that the curse had mysteriously transferred between them. Even now, she could feel the searing cuts of his taloned fingers as they scratched her scalp. It was then, that night, that the big bad moon had taken her captive—and Spice was born2

Dead blood.