The hell with it, you're gonna run! Taking a deep breath you bolt towards the door only to be easily caught.

"Impudent child," Lacroix chides. "Never -run- from a vampire, it never works you know."

Since he seems to be waiting for an answer, you squeak something back.
 

He laughs softly, then bends down and rubs what you guess must be fangs along your throat. He doesn't break the skin though. You tremble. He laughs. Everything goes black.

You wake up the next morning in the intensive care unit at Toronto Medical. The doctor says you were in a car accident. 'Lucky to be alive.'

You sit up and bed and finger the bandage at your throat, "Strange that I just hurt the right side of my neck." You mumble, but the nurses just smile and tell you in a somewhat monotone manner that it's very common. Then they leave to let you rest up.

Later that afternoon, someone delivers a dozen white roses, the card reads, "Never run from me again."

You have no idea what it means, but you make mental note to pick up a baseball bat and a pit bull on the way home.
 

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