He was running. Houses, trees, roads whizzed by in a blur. But try as he might, he would never be able to run fast enough to outdistance Death. How ironic.

He held her tightly to his chest, never faltering in his desperate sprint. Her tears soaked his shirt, spurred him on to run faster faster faster.

Finally, he stopped. Gently, he set her down, held her face in cold hands. “Is it true?”

“Yes. I’m going to die.” Her voice broke, so he wrapped trembling arms around her. She thought she saw a glistening in his eyes, but it couldn’t be. His kind was incapable of tears.

“The doctor said my blood is carrying a disease. There’s no escape.” She answered the question in his terrified black eyes. “Yes. It’s incurable.”

He held her fiercely in the dying twilight. Then a thought occurred to him. It was utterly impossible. But fear made him irrational.

He pressed his cold lips to her neck. She didn’t realize his intentions until she felt his teeth pierce the skin.

Until the poison began to burn through her body.