In the morning, Emma woke up with a burning fever. Holding her head which was pounding, and drawing herself to sit up straight on her bed, she noticed, with a sideways glance, that Freya was on her bed, asleep. She sighed as she watched Freya sleep like she was dead to the world. The latter looked so calm and innocent, so like her, only that she was just as dead, since her heart wasn't beating. But Emma knew better. She knew that vampires, for what they were, always shut down their heart whenever they wanted to sleep. She didn't know the reason though. She was actually surprised when she saw Freya on her bed. She had been expecting her to lie underground.
Gently, so that she wouldn't cause Freya to stir from her sleep, she slipped out of the sheets to the floor. She needed to refreshen. She felt like someone who was bashed by an incoming train.