Apocalypse?
Just the thought sent a chill down Damon's spine. He would be lying if he said he wasn't excited for something like that to happen, but at the same time, he was also terrified. He had no control. No knowledge. No guidebook for what came next.
And right now, not even Bloodreign was talking.
"Are you there? Bloodreign? Little red?" He tried calling for her again, but there was no response. It looked like not everything from the game was transferred to real life. Maybe it was a gradual process? Maybe it would happen tomorrow? He had no idea.
All he was sure of at the moment was that he had become a vampire and he needed to drink blood in order not to go crazy. "Ya, I need to get more of that." He took out his phone and started searching for chicken blood online or, for that matter, pig's blood or cow's blood, but Instacart didn't exactly have that option.
He sighed in frustration and threw the phone on the table. It looked like he had to make a personal trip to the butcher's shop and if that did not work maybe even to the damned hospital. But he couldn't do any of that without making sure this woman didn't wake up and start screaming bloody murder.
Damon turned to look at her again. She hadn't moved. Her breathing was even, her pulse—he could hear it now—was calm and steady. He rubbed his temples. If she woke up and remembered anything—anything—his whole life would spiral faster than he could say 'I am sorry'.
If that happened...
Damon shook his head. There was no point in thinking about that now. He grabbed a spare blanket and tossed it over her. "You sleep. Forget everything. Dream about puppies or ice cream or whatever rich girls dream about."
He'd go to the butcher in a few hours, once the shops opened. Hopefully, they wouldn't question a pale, shaky man buying two liters of animal blood like it was normal. If that didn't work... well, he didn't want to think about what came after that.
He glanced down at his hands—still shaking, still hungry—and then back at her.
"One step at a time, Damon," he whispered to himself.
He picked up his phone again and started going through various news channels and browsing the web to see if anyone else had changed or any new breaking news had popped out or if something like a wyrm had shown up in the real world.
But the newsfeed was refreshingly ordinary. Traffic jams. Stock market dips. Rape and murder and of course powerful politicians acting like toddlers.
There was this one Reddit post where someone posted blurry footage of what looked like a street raccoon... and claimed it was a werewolf. Damon looked at it for a moment and then closed it. That thing was definitely just a raccoon.
But that couldn't be right, could it? If he had changed—really changed—then who was to say others hadn't? Maybe they just hadn't figured it out yet. Or maybe they were hiding it better. The idea was both comforting and horrifying. Because if the world hadn't caught on yet...
Damon blinked, once... twice... trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the panic clawing up his throat. Thanks? Did she just thank him?
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