"Your body isn't used to this. Vampires can sense each other's presence from the moment they're turned, even though we cannot possess the specific skill I'm showing you."
"You have to learn it from scratch. Yes, it may take a long time. But you're already doing more than I expected."
She took a step back.
"Once more. Close your eyes."
Ethan clenched his teeth. Inside him, a mixture of anger at himself was boiling.
I'm not giving up, he thought.
Anna began moving again.
This time she came closer. Ethan felt a light pressure in his chest, as if someone was standing right behind him and staring at the back of his head. He spun sharply and thrust out his hand.
Anna managed to touch his shoulder a split second before his palm reached her.
"Almost," she said.
"You felt it, even if too late. You're still thinking too much. Stop over-focusing on yourself."
"I'm trying…" he exhaled.
"But how do I stop thinking? There's constant noise in my head. My own thoughts and these stupid sounds from the curse…"
Anna nodded. There was no pity in her gaze, only understanding.
"Then use them. Focus on what's behind them."
She advanced again. This time she struck him on the head.
He spun sharply and thrust out his hand.
This time his palm nearly touched her shoulder.
Anna stopped.
"Better," she said. There was a hint of approval in her voice.
"You're starting to feel me more clearly, but it's still not enough."
Ethan didn't reply. He simply closed his eyes again.
Minutes turned into hours. Anna kept circling him again and again. Ethan missed more often than he connected. Every time her hand touched his shoulder, back, or chest, he heard Anna's soft sigh.
"Too late," she said.
He felt his body growing heavier, as if filled with lead. His legs trembled from the constant tension. His left arm, the one covered in black lines, sometimes refused to obey. His fingers would cramp, and he had to force them open.
At one point, he couldn't take it anymore. He opened his eyes and dropped heavily onto one knee, leaning on the black stake.
"I… can't," he breathed out.
His voice was hoarse, full of self-directed anger.
"I'm trying… but I'm just not built for this."
"I can't feel you the way you want. I'm just… exhausted."
Anna stopped. She didn't step closer. She simply stood there, looking down at him.
"You're not supposed to feel it the way I do," she said calmly.
"You have to feel it in your own way. It develops over time. Don't try to become a vampire. You need to be the best version of a human who can stand against one."
Sweat dripped from his chin onto the concrete floor. Thoughts swirled in his head.
I'm hopeless. How am I supposed to feel her? It seems impossible. How will I fight them if I can't even do this?
If I don't learn… I'll become a burden. Or turn into another monster…
He gripped the black stake tighter. His jaw cracked from clenching his teeth.
"One more time," he said through gritted teeth, pushing himself back to his feet.
"I'm not done."
Anna gave a barely noticeable nod. A flicker of respect appeared in her eyes.
"Alright. Close your eyes."
And they continued.
Every time he almost succeeded, Anna would say:
"Closer. If you don't concentrate, you'll die…"
And when he missed:
"Dead. Calm your fervor and become one with nature!"
Ethan felt his muscles burning, his lungs burning from lack of air, and his mind exhausted from constant strain. But he didn't stop.
The video from the hospital spread through the city like wildfire.
It first appeared in closed chats belonging to Mark Rivera's sister, then in several news outlets and among a few activists. Soon someone uploaded it to social media.
It was a short clip, just two minutes and seventeen seconds long.
On phones, tablets, and computers across the city, the footage began to play. Michael calmly slicing open a young guy's stomach with a bloody cleaver. Elizabeth standing in the doorway, looking away. And Mark Rivera's final words, spoken in a trembling whisper: "Help me…"
By morning, the video had already gained hundreds of thousands if not millions of views. It was impossible to erase from the minds of the millions of survivors.
People poured into the streets, filled with rage and utter panic. Social media was boiling. People were posting countless videos with various hashtags.
#HospitalOfHorror and #GerardTheKiller shot to the top at insane speed. The news kept repeating the same thing:
"Shocking video from the city hospital. People in black killing patients while the police stay silent."
At the same time, in the mayor's office building, in a large conference room on the top floor, a closed meeting was underway.
Gerard de Mille sat at the head of the long table. His face was like stone, cold, barely contained fury burning in his eyes. Around the table sat his most trusted inner circle.
Michael, Elizabeth, several high-ranking vampires from his closest circle, and Richard Hale, the chief of police, who looked like he hadn't slept for several days.
Gerard slowly placed his palms on the table. His voice was quiet.
"How could this have happened?" he asked, staring directly at Hale.
"The video is everywhere. Millions of views. People are rioting in the streets. And you, Richard, told me everything was under control?"
Hale sat upright, his fingers nervously tapping on the tabletop.