Page 26 of Blood Magic

Holding a stake in one hand and my demon blade in the other, I gave Joe a nod. “Cut off the hood but hold the disks in your hand. If he happens to come at you, the silver will repulse him and give your fists a little extra power.”

He didn’t argue. And when he cut away the hood and we finally saw the vampire, we both quietly stared, just a little horrified. I never got used to seeing the proof of what people could do to each other.

His face was skeletal, with jutting cheekbones, sunken eyes, and dry, colorless lips. He was a white man, but that was about all I could tell. I couldn’t guess the age he’d been when he died. The flesh around his eyes, despite the fabric that had stood between him and the silver, was purple and red, as though someone had beat the hell out of him before they’d buried him alive.

He was starving, and even though I hated the vampires and knew what he would be starving for, I wasn’t a monster. I pitied him greatly. His suffering was huge.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

Joe nodded. His face was pale, his eyes a little too wide, and I knew that he would never quite be the same. No one was after they’d witnessed the unimaginable horror of vampires. “I’ve seen a lot,” he said finally, his voice hoarse, “but this is…”

“I know,” I told him. “And you don’t get used to it.”

“What do we do to…” He swallowed. “To help him?”

“He needs some blood.” And despite the pitifulness of the creature in the grave, when I spoke the words there was still contempt in my voice.

“You’re going to let him bite you?” Joe no longer believed vampires were purely fictional.

I recoiled. “Of course not. I bought a syringe of donor blood. I’ll shoot him up with enough to get him moving. Once he’s stronger, I’m sure he’ll find some food.” I curled my lip—I couldn’t help it. My disdain for vampires was innate, as was my disgust.

He stared at me. “We must shop in very different places.”

I snorted and pulled the syringe from my bag. “I’m a hunter. We know where to find items we need, and we always come prepared.”

“A hunter,” he said, slowly. “I knew you did the psychic ghost shit, but this is…” He shook his head. “This is hard to take in. I feel like I’ve either lost my mind or am dreaming.”

“More like a nightmare,” I muttered, then sighed. “Get ready. Don’t kill him unless he has me down with his fangs in my throat. I need to talk to him.”

And I lifted the syringe and plunged it into the starving vampire’s body.