The Watcher

AT FIRST, I THINK I'M ASLEEP. A DEEP SLEEP. ONE from which I'm not ready to awaken.

But something is crawling into my consciousness, willing me, commanding me, to come back.

My senses respond slowly. Taste and smell are first. I'm assailed by the rich, metallic scent of fresh blood. I taste it, too, in the back of my throat.

I lick my lips.

I don't open my eyes. I'm not ready. I listen, though. It's quiet. Beyond quiet. No sound at all. No insect or animal noises. No human stirrings.

Deadly quiet.

I try to move. My body is heavy and unresponsive. I'm lying down. Whatever I'm lying on is rough textured and smells of-what? The outdoors. Slightly gamy. Like a camping blanket that's been stored unwashed in a musty attic.

How do I know that smell?

A memory flashes. My brother and I on a camping trip. Too many years ago to count. Another lifetime.

Where am I?

Open your eyes.

I think the command comes from inside my head. But I don't want to open my eyes. I'm not ready. I'm afraid.

What am I afraid of?

"Anna, open your eyes."

The voice makes me jump. I cringe away and raise my hand to cover my eyes.

Another's hand snatches it away.

"Open your eyes, vampire."

A female voice. Cold. Unsympathetic.

"Very well. This will bring you back."

A sharp prick. Pressure as a plunger is depressed. Something snakes into my bloodstream, trailing an icy finger. I feel it move, invade my system, awaken every nerve ending, reach into my brain and gnaw at me until I can't fight it anymore.

I'm yanked screaming back into consciousness.