If you were dying... If you were sixteen and dying... If your blood was spilling out of you, calling to them, the creatures of the night, and you knew you were dying... If you saw their pale faces and the gleam of sharp teeth in the moonlight, and you felt your blood spilling warmly over your hands, and you knew beyond any doubt that you were dying... Wouldn’t you say yes? Yes, turn me. Yes, I want to live. Yes... make me one of you.