Freedom’s Blood – Part 3 of 5

I began this missive by telling you I was in a moral quandary. Here it is: I’d drained a victim to the point of no return – he wasn’t going to live, no matter who intervened, but he wasn’t dead yet. He’d asked to die, and now he’d changed his mind. Tough luck, you say? There’s nothing I can do for him, you say? Ah, but there was something I could do for him, and he knew exactly what it was.

I didn’t want to do it. Not on a bet.

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It was early August, and I was in San Diego. I’d been havin...