Martha gasped, “Oh my God… you’re, you’re turning her aren’t you?” She stammered frantically feeling for her cross necklace.

“I like to use the word… immortalizing.  The chain is not there Martha.  You left it in the kitchen on the counter.  Tsk, tsk you should have gotten that clasp fixed yesterday instead of rushing back here to check on Miss Spencer,” I said moving closer to her. 

“You stay away from me you, you… she vamp.”  I watched as Martha backed away from me towards the edge of the stairs.  “What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m not going to do anything to you.  You’re going to do it to yourself,” I said as I continued to advance towards her.

“No please I beg of you.  I will not tell anyone about you,” she said her feet now on the edge of the top step.  Martha realizing where her footing was looked down the long staircase then turned her attentions back to me.

“It’s too late Martha, you are too much of a threat to me and you must die,” I hissed at her baring my sharp fangs.  Stretching out my arm toward her, I gave her a slight push.

“Aghhh! Miss Spenncccer,” she screams as she tumbles down the long winding staircase.  I met her jumbled body at the bottom of the stairs.  She looked up at me with a snarled expression on her face.  “You bitch,” she choked out. 

I bent down cradling her head in my hands, staring at her, “goodbye Martha” and snapped her neck.

///

Spencer was startled out of her musing.  “What was that scream?”  Opening her bedroom door she went to investigate.  “Martha where are you?” She yells throughout the upstairs hallway.  “Martha,” she calls again. 

Walking to the staircase she looked down, “Oh my God, Martha.” 

Spencer rushes down the stairs to where Martha laid.  “Martha… Oh God Martha.”  Pressing her fingers against Martha’s neck, Spencer frantically feels for a pulse, there is none.  Spencer runs to the phone and calls 911.  After speaking to the dispatcher she calls Ashley.

“Pickup the phone Ashley,” Spencer yells.

“Hello.”

“Ashley, it’s Spencer,” she said her voice shaky. 

“Spencer what’s wrong?”

“It’s Martha.”

“What about Martha,” I asked.