Chapter 7
Kate stared at the glass in her hands. The liquid inside was dark and thick, like syrup, in the dim light of her quarters.
The blood, O-negative, as Sophia had mentioned, looked innocent enough. Yet, the weight of what it represented felt heavy on her, almost like a physical force.
“You need to drink it,” Devon said softly from his spot beside her on the small sofa. “It’s been three days since you last fed properly.”
“I know,” Kate whispered, but made no move to lift the glass to her lips. “I know, it’s just… the night I turned, I didn’t think about it. The hunger was so overwhelming that I just… consumed. But now that my head is clearer, now that I can think about what I’m doing…”
She trailed off, unable to express the complex emotions battling inside her. The initial, desperate hunger had faded into something more manageable, but the need remained. With that need came the heavy burden of ethical responsibility.
“Tell me about the donors again,” Kate said, still looking at the glass.
Devon leaned back and spoke in that calm, measured tone, the one he used when teaching her to navigate this new existence.
“The compound works with three main blood banks in the region. The donors are volunteers who undergo thorough health screenings and receive payments well above standard rates.”
“But they don’t know what they’re really donating to.”
“No,” Devon admitted. “They believe they’re contributing to specialized medical research. Which, in a way, they are; research into how we can maintain our existence without harming others.”
Kate finally lifted the glass and watched the liquid swirl gently. “How often will I need this?”
“Every few days at minimum. You’ll need more if you’re using your abilities a lot or if you’re under stress. Your body is still adjusting to its new needs.”
Hunger gnawed at her stomach. It constantly reminded her of what she had become. The ache grew sharper with each hour. Her heightened senses caught the iron-rich scent of blood, and despite her doubts, her body responded with eagerness.
Kate took a small sip, and her face contorted at the unfamiliar sensation.
The blood was warm since Sophia’s people had heated it to body temperature.
The taste was metallic, with a richness that satisfied something instinctive in her. Her human mind recoiled from it even as her new body craved more.
“It’s… not terrible,” she said, surprised. “But it feels wrong to enjoy it.”
“Why?”
“Because someone gave this up. Someone sat in a chair and let a needle drain this from their body, and they don’t even know it’s keeping me alive.”
Kate took another, larger sip, and felt the immediate effect as her body began to process the nutrients it desperately needed. “How do I accept that?”
“The same way doctors accept donated blood for transfusions,” Devon replied. “The same way researchers accept donated tissue for medical breakthroughs. The donors made an informed choice to help, even if they don’t know the full extent of that help.”
The constant low-level fatigue Kate had been experiencing began to lift, and her enhanced senses sharpened further. Colors seemed more vivid and sounds more distinct.
“I can feel it working,” she said, wonder creeping into her voice despite her concerns. “My body is responding to it.”
“Your vampire anatomy is designed to extract maximum nutrition from blood,” Devon explained. “It’s incredibly efficient. That single glass contains everything you need to stay healthy for days.”
Kate finished the rest of the blood and set the empty glass aside.
“Sophia mentioned that some donors have been with the compound for years,” Kate said. “Do they ever ask questions? Wonder why their blood is needed for ‘research’ that never seems to produce published results?”
“Some do. Those who become too curious are gently discouraged from continuing. Others seem content with the compensation and the knowledge that they’re contributing to something important.
Sophia is very careful about donor selection.
This system, while imperfect, respects human autonomy as much as possible while meeting our survival needs. ”
Kate leaned back against the sofa, thinking about the physical effects of feeding and the ethical questions it raised.
“How do you do it? How do you live knowing that your existence requires this?”
Devon was silent for a long moment. “I remind myself that I can choose how I exist, even if I didn’t choose what I am.”
“And that’s enough?”
“It has to be. The alternative is despair or becoming a monster. Neither helps anyone.”
The hunger that had been Kate’s constant companion for days was finally quiet, replaced by a sense of satisfaction that felt foreign, yet natural.
“I think I understand now how tempting it would be to stop asking questions.”
“But you won’t,” Devon said confidently. “You feel the weight of what you need to survive. That moral compass sets us apart from the monsters.”
Kate thought about the strange dual nature of her new life as she got ready for daylight sleep.
The blood had restored her strength and given her a sense of physical well-being she hadn’t felt since her transformation.
But it also increased her need for something that required sacrifice from people who would never know her name.
Perhaps, Kate thought as she fell asleep, learning to live with imperfect solutions was a part of being human, even when you were no longer entirely human yourself.
The hunger was quiet now; it felt satisfied for the first time in days. But Kate knew it would come back, and when it did, she would have to make the same tough choices again.
It was going to be a very long immortality.