It turned out that something had gone wrong during the ritual. According to Pali, either Martha’s body was rejecting the transition, or something had gone wrong during the ritual itself. He stood by the window, his chest heaving with deep, frustrated breaths as he looked down at his trembling hands, his instinct growling in low, helpless failure.
Faye’s blood was what was keeping her alive. When Faye gave her blood, Martha regained consciousness, but she was still weaker than before.
Martha’s time was now even shorter than it had been before the ritual. Every second that ticked by felt like a physical weight crushing down on them, the thick silence in the living room making their lungs tighten.
She could die at any moment.
"I’m really sorry... I just wanted you to get better, not make you worse," Dre said to her dying wife. Her smooth, arrogant voice completely cracked, her chest rising and falling in fast, shaky waves as she squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the pain.
They were in the living room. Martha was lying on the couch with her head resting on Dre’s lap. The pale vampire girl held her tightly, her fingers stroking through Martha’s hair with a fast, nervous rhythm.
Even in the face of death, Martha wasn’t angry at her dear wife. She let out a very soft, wheezing sigh, her breathing slow and level despite the terrible heat burning in her chest.
She gently cupped Dre’s face. Her thin fingers brushed against the pale skin, her hand shaking with the last of her remaining strength.
"I know, darling. You never meant any harm... but one cannot outrun fate." Martha murmured, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room.
As Martha spoke, she coughed violently, blood staining the handkerchief in her hand. The harsh, hacking sound tore through her throat, her chest heaving in wild, painful spasms as a bright red splatter covered the white fabric.
Malo and Faye were also in the living room, standing as they watched the woman’s condition worsen. They were both crying. The tears spilled rapidly down Faye’s cheeks, her breath catching in her throat in a series of quiet, miserable hitches while Malo sniffled loudly beside her.
Pali too, all he had wanted was to help his friend get better. The woman had also been like a mother to him after his own mother’s passing. The memories of her kindness rushed through his mind in a fast, painful flood, making his throat go completely dry.
"I’m sorry... I’m truly am," Dre whispered, overwhelmed with remorse. She buried her face in Martha’s shoulder, her shoulders shaking violently as her breathing turned into short, desperate gasps.
"Shall we go on a walk, my dear wife?" Martha asked with a gentle smile. She looked up at the ceiling, her lungs pulling in a quiet, shallow breath as if she just wanted to feel the fresh air one last time.
Dre nodded repeatedly. She didn’t say a word, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she carefully slid her arms under Martha’s fragile body to lift her off the couch.
The two of them walked side by side, with Dre supporting Martha as they slowly made their way forward.
Faye followed a few feet behind them. Her own heart was pounding a fast, worried beat against her ribs, her hands tucked deep into her hoodie pockets as she kept her eyes glued to Martha’s swaying form.
She stayed close in case Martha collapsed and needed more of her blood.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" Martha asked in her frail voice, her head resting against Dre’s shoulder as they walked through the quiet streets.
"Yes... that was 20 years ago at a concert," Dre replied. She kept her arm locked securely around Martha’s waist, her breathing turning slow and deliberate to match her wife’s slow pace.
"For me... it feels like yesterday. It still plays in my head, like a movie." Martha whispered, a soft, content look softening her tired face.
Nineteen-year-old Martha had gone to one of Danny’s concerts. The fast, loud bass of the music had been vibrating through the crowded arena, the lights flashing wildly over the cheering fans.
Danny was a rap star, and Dre happened to be there as well. The pale Night Walker had been lurking in the dark shadows of the arena, her lungs filling with the intoxicating scent of the large crowd.
Dre had originally intended to feed on Martha, but something Martha said changed her mind. The gentle, completely fearless words had caught the monster off guard, making Dre’s cold heart skip a strange, human beat.
Dre let her go. But Martha kept finding reasons to bump into her, creating one meet-cute after another until Dre finally gave in.
They dated for a year before getting married.
Even though they lived in different cities, they always made time for each other.
Dre even bought a beach house because Martha loved the beach so much. The sound of the rolling waves and the cool sea breeze was exactly what Martha had always dreamed of. Also she loves collecting Shells..
"I know you’re a girl with daddy issues, but I really hope one day you get the family you’ve always wished for," Martha said. Her voice was growing fainter, her breathing turning into a tiny, slow whistle.
"You staying alive is the only wish I want, mon cœur," Dre replied. She tightened her grip, her heart thumping a frantic, desperate rhythm against her ribs.
Martha started coughing again and became too weak to continue walking.
Without hesitation, Dre carried her onto her back and continued walking.
"I wish we were at the beach... a walk there would be better than here..." Martha said weakly. Her chin rested heavily against Dre’s shoulder, her eyelids growing heavier by the second.
"I could take you to the beach. We’ll walk together and collect the finest seashells, then you’ll turn them into beautiful jewelry... just like you," Dre said. She forced the words out in a fast, soothing stream, her lungs pumping hard as she walked under the dim lights.
"You are still as beautiful as the day I met you," Martha whispered, her arms wrapped around Dre. The grasp was incredibly loose, her breathing dropping into a slow, rhythm.
"Andrea... did you ever regret meeting me? You didn’t want to fall in love because you were scared of losing someone like me. I should be the one apologizing for making you fall in love with me... only to leave you all alone in this world..." Martha murmured, a single tear slipping from her eye.
"I don’t regret loving you, mon cœur. You changed me. Because of you, I have a heart... a real one. I should be thanking you."
Before Dre could finish speaking, she felt Martha’s heartbeat...
It had stopped. The sudden, absolute stillness against her back made Dre’s whole body lock straight.
Martha was no longer breathing. There was no more air moving through her lips, her chest remaining perfectly flat against the leather.
Her hand slowly fell from Dre’s shoulder, and the bloodstained handkerchief slipped from her fingers onto the ground.
Martha Lane was gone.
Dre stopped walking. She stood perfectly frozen in the middle of the road, her chest completely locked as the cold reality shattered her world.
Faye, who was still following behind them, realized what had happened the moment the handkerchief fell. Her eyes went wide, her heart skipping a vital beat as her lungs lost all their air.
At first, she thought Martha had simply fainted. She took a fast step forward, her hand reaching out toward them.
But she listened closely. She focused her sharp werewolf hearing, her ears twitching in the absolute quiet of the night.
There was no heartbeat. The familiar, weak thumping that she had been tracking was completely gone, replaced by a terrifying, hollow silence.
"Ms... Martha..." Faye whispered, tears filling her eyes. The words cut through her throat, her whole body starting to shake violently.
She couldn’t hold back her cries anymore. A sharp, painful sob burst from her lungs, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as the heavy grief completely broke her down.
She wept for the woman who had just passed away. The loud, miserable sound of her crying echoed off the quiet trees around them.
"Shhh... my wife hates noise when she is asleep," Dre said softly. Her voice was completely calm now, a dangerous, empty quietness that made Faye’s blood run cold.
Then Dre continued walking forward, still carrying her deceased wife on her back. Her shoes moved with a steady, slow rhythm, her eyes staring straight ahead into the darkness as if they were still on that walk....
Faye did nothing but stand there, crying as she watched Dre disappear into the distance. She clutched her own chest, her lungs heaving with ragged, breathless sobs as the shadows of the night slowly swallowed the two figures up until they were completely gone.