The Blood inside you is the Blood inside me

The Blood inside you is the Blood inside me Part 1

Charlotte hated driving, especially in locales she had never been to before. On the other hand, being stuck in a bus for hours didn't appeal to her either, so she rented a small car to use while on vacation. It was an easy model to drive, but she was unfamiliar with the land. She had a map of Italy, and another of the Tuscan region in more detail, but she really wished she had GPS in this inexpensive, non-luxurious vehicle. She had just turned the corner on a road that led to Pisa, when she saw  bright lights heading for her, then darkness enveloped her.

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Charlotte could not move. With it being night and her vision now blurry, she was nearly blind. Jerking back when she felt a hand on her shoulder, restraining her movements, Charlotte tried to speak but failed.

"Be still, child," said a low male voice, soft and without animation. "You will only injure yourself more." Someone kneeling at her side was touching her forehead, lingering a moment, before she felt a cloth wiping it gently. Was she bleeding? She tried to move, but excruciating pain held her in place, as was the restraining hand.

The detached voice spoke more firmly. "I am sorry that my driver caused this. You are dying, child. There is only one way to save you. You must do as I say, and do not argue. Now drink."

Charlotte felt something cool placed against her lips. She licked at the moisture, but it wasn't water. It had a more acrid taste, medicine perhaps. Was this man a doctor? Her thoughts were suddenly cut off, interrupted by more pain, sharp and sudden, until she finally passed out.

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Opening her eyes, Charlotte found herself lying on a large bed in a dimly lit room. She tried to sit up, but her body was still not cooperating. All she remembered were the bright lights coming at her and later, the pain.

As if someone just knew she was awake, a young woman entered the room with a tray. She placed the tray on the small table that sat beside the bed. "Master Aro thought you might be hungry, miss. Nothing too heavy. Hot soup and bread, with some red wine, if you like wine. If not, I can get you something else."

Charlotte's mouth was so dry, she could hardly speak. "Thank you, but may I have some water?"

The woman, who had flawless skin Charlotte could be jealous of, handed her a filled glass, then helped her to sit up, propping up the cushions behind Charlotte's back. "When you are feeling better, Master Aro will see you."

"Where am I?" Charlotte asked. She wondered if this was some ornate Italian hospital. She had read that former palaces might be turned into hotels, so why not hospitals. "And who is Master Aro?"

"He is your host, miss." With that, the woman left as silently as she had entered.

Charlotte sniffed at the broth in the bowl, then sipped the steaming liquid. It felt warm going down. She bit into the bread, finding it warm as well. First things first, she decided. Eat, walk around some to get back her strength, then find out where she was. She also wanted to know the name of the man who had seemingly saved her, but how would she ever find him.

Once she had finished eating, Charlotte rose from the bed, and picking up the wine glass, proceeded to walk around her room. It was large and a bit ornate for her taste, but this was Italy, after all. She saw the open doors, and walking through them, found herself on a balcony overlooking part of the city. It was all so old world and charming. Going back in, she saw a set of clothing lying over a chair in the corner, next to the door of the bathroom. Whoever this host was, he had seen to all her needs.

She drank back the remaining wine, setting the empty glass down on the tray, then grabbing the clothing, she went into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Charlotte looked into the mirror, assessing the damage from her accident. She knew she had to have an injury on her face, but it looked untouched. Her skin wasn't bruised or broken. Peering into her green eyes, she saw no bloodshot whites. Luckily, her blurred vision had cleared. She looked down at her hand, which she now recalled feeling as if her wrist had been broken. She wiggled it around and found it perfectly fine. In fact, except for some residual aches, she felt like she had merely taken a very long hike, and was not the victim of a horrendous car accident. The man who had helped her had told her that she was dying. Could he have been wrong?