Surviving Specter High: Werewolves 101

10 ~ With My Life

"Yo, I got the meds."

Asher's voice helped me slowly regain consciousness. After being asleep for so long, I somehow felt worse.

"Yeah? Well, get in here!" Rusty ordered.

When I glanced at the window, it was already dark. How long had I been asleep?

Asher emerged from the shadowy stairwell with a grocery bag full of medicine. I struggled to sit up, but then I fell into another coughing fit. My throat felt scratchier than before, and my sense of smell was completely gone. I guess I really did have a cold . . . .

Asher couldn't even put down the bag before Rusty snatched it from him. He frantically pulled out the boxes of medicine and studied the labels. He then scrambled to my kitchenette, grabbed a plastic spoon, poured the cherry red liquid into it, and carefully balanced it on his way to my bedside.

"Here, Millie, drink this," he spoke softly.

I slowly opened my mouth, and he spoon-fed me the cure. The bitter sap left a terrible aftertaste, but I forced myself to swallow it down—if nothing else, for his sake. A few seconds passed, and Rusty impatiently asked, "Well? Is it working?"

I just laughed. "Medicine isn't that quick. But thanks for going out, Asher."

Asher flipped his floppy bang aside. "Yeah, it's obvious this guy's pretty pathetic since he barely knows how to work a microwave."

"Hey! I'm not that stupid!" he snarled, tilting his ears backward. "It was my cousin that exploded the dorm by nuking a spoon in his gravy!"

"What? When was this?" I asked.

"Last night."

Alrighty, then. But thankfully, it seemed that the cough syrup was working. Orr maybe it was just the company. "I don't why I got so sick all the sudden."

"It's probably because he tried to hypnotize you," Asher speculated. "Y'know, into being his thrall."

I still didn't understand what that word meant, but for some reason, I really didn't feel comfortable asking. It sounded like something dreadful.

Rusty must have sensed my unease because his tail went stiff, and he turned to Asher. "Well, thanks for your help—but I can handle the rest. So, get lost."

Asher glanced at me, and I just nodded, telling him that I was in good hands.

"Well, since she obviously trusts you, I guess I'll allow it."

"I didn't ask!"

Asher took one last sip of his iron-fortified soup and left the tower. Now, it was just me and Rusty again, so I was able to relax. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because even though Asher seemed harmless, he was still a vampire—and that put me on edge.

But then that nagging question popped into my head again. For whatever reason, I wanted to ask Rusty now that no one else was around. He was practically my best friend.

"So . . . what's a thrall?" I tilted my head in confusion.

He scowled at the word. "It's just some sick vampire form of domination. Like, a slave or something."

"What? I thought it was just a pet name vampires used."

"It is a pet name. For 'he owns you.' Like, if you're a thrall, nobody else can date you for life. And, yeah, they don't ask—they take. And then they drink from your neck, like, whenever. So, you're basically anemic the rest of your life."

I gasped in horror, gently touching my neck as if reality had just bitten me.

"I'm pretty sure they outlawed the practice, but apparently, this dude's seriously disturbed," he added.