When my number appeared on the screen in the lobby, it took me a moment to realize it was actually mine. The soft chime echoed through the waiting room and several people stood at once, checking their tablets or the slips of paper they had been given at the desk. I looked up at the display hanging above the reception counter and saw it clearly.

  A-214

  My number.

  My throat felt dry as I stood from the chair and slipped my bag over my shoulder. The girl who had been sitting two seats away glanced at the screen, then at me, and gave a small nod like we were sharing the same quiet understanding. No one looked excited to go back there. People moved slowly when their numbers were called, like the extra few seconds of delay might somehow make the whole thing easier.

  I dropped the tablet into the return bin beside the chairs and approached the desk. One of the nurses glanced at the screen in front of her and then gestured toward a hallway branching off to the right side of the lobby.

  "Intake room three," she said. "Follow the hall until you see the door."

  Her tone was calm and routine, like she had repeated the same instructions a hundred times already that morning.

  I nodded and turned toward the hallway.

  The noise of the waiting room faded quickly once I stepped inside. The corridor was long and bright, the overhead lights reflecting harshly off the pale floors and walls. Everything looked too clean, too organized, like the entire building had been designed to remove anything that might make people feel comfortable enough to relax.

  Doors lined both sides of the hallway. Some were closed, but a few stood slightly open. As I walked past them I caught glimpses of what was happening inside.

  Reclining chairs.

  Medical trays.

  Clear plastic tubes running from arms into sealed containers.

  A boy about my age sat stiffly in one room while a nurse adjusted something on a machine beside him. His face looked pale but he was trying very hard not to move. In another room a girl leaned back with her eyes closed while a nurse pressed a cotton pad against the inside of her elbow.

  No one was screaming or panicking.

  But the air still felt tense.

  I reached the door marked INTAKE 3 and paused for a moment before knocking softly.

  "Come in," a voice called from inside.

  I pushed the door open.

  The room was smaller than I expected. A single medical chair sat in the center, angled slightly toward a set of cabinets along the far wall. Stainless steel trays held neatly organized medical tools sealed in plastic packaging. A computer monitor glowed softly on the desk where a nurse stood typing something into the system.

  She looked up when I entered.

  "Allysia Rowan?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. Go ahead and sit down."

  Her voice was friendly enough, though there was a professional distance to it that made the whole situation feel more official. I set my bag on the floor beside the chair and sat down carefully. The seat was padded but firm, and adjustable armrests extended from both sides.

  The nurse turned slightly toward the computer again.

  "I just need to confirm a few details before we start the intake process."

  She read from the screen while I answered.

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  Full name.

  Birthdate.

  Address.

  Employment.

  Medical history.

  The questions were simple, but there were a lot of them. I answered quietly while she typed everything into the system. The keyboard clicks filled the room for a few minutes before she finally nodded and turned back toward me.

  "Alright. Since this is your first registration visit, we'll be running a full blood profile today. Future donations will be shorter."

  I nodded slowly.

  "What exactly does that mean?"

  She moved toward one of the trays while speaking.

  "We test for health markers, blood classification, and compatibility records."

  "Compatibility with what?"

  She glanced at me briefly.

  "With vampire consumption standards."

  The way she said it made the explanation sound completely normal. Like she was describing a standard medical test instead of something else entirely.

  She pulled a sealed packet from the tray and opened it, placing the contents carefully beside the chair.

  "Place your arm on the rest," she said gently.

  I did what she asked.

  The metal armrest felt cold against my skin as I rolled up the sleeve of my sweater. The nurse wrapped a thin elastic band around my upper arm and tightened it slightly. The pressure made the veins in the bend of my elbow stand out more clearly.

  "Try to relax your hand," she added. "Tension makes it harder."

  I forced myself to loosen my fingers.

  The nurse swabbed the inside of my elbow with a small antiseptic pad. The smell of alcohol filled the air for a moment.

  "Small pinch."

  The needle slid into my arm before I had time to think about it too much. It stung briefly, then settled into a dull pressure that wasn't nearly as bad as I had imagined.

  A clear tube connected the needle to a glass vial mounted on the tray.

  I watched the blood fill it for a few seconds before looking away.

  The nurse monitored a small screen attached to the side of the chair.

  "This part takes a few minutes," she said. "The initial sample is larger than a standard donation."

  I nodded quietly.

  The room was warm enough that I could feel a faint layer of heat building under my sweater. My breathing felt slightly slower than usual, but I assumed that was just nerves.

  Somewhere down the hallway I could hear the sound of footsteps moving back and forth. Doors opened and closed. Occasionally a nurse's voice drifted past, speaking calmly to another donor.

  The building felt busy.

  Efficient.

  Like a system that had been operating this way for a very long time.

  After a moment I glanced toward the small window on the wall beside the door. It overlooked a narrow courtyard behind the building. Through the glass I could see a few dark vehicles parked near a gated exit where security guards stood talking quietly among themselves.

  One of the guards wasn't human.

  Even from this distance it was easy to tell. His posture was too still, too controlled. The other guards stood normally, shifting their weight occasionally or gesturing while they talked. The vampire stood completely relaxed with his hands behind his back, observing the area like someone who didn't feel the need to move unless he wanted to.

  The nurse finished labeling the first vial and placed it in a metal container on the counter.

  "Everything looks normal so far," she said. "Just a couple more samples."

  I nodded again.

  The needle remained in place while another vial was attached to the tube. My arm felt slightly heavy now, though it wasn't painful. Mostly it just made me aware of how still I had to sit.

  I tried to focus on the small details around the room instead of the blood leaving my body.

  The quiet hum of the overhead lights.

  The faint ticking sound from the monitor tracking the extraction.

  The careful movements of the nurse as she prepared the next set of testing equipment.

  Eventually the final vial filled.

  The nurse removed the tube and pressed a folded pad of gauze against my arm.

  "Hold this here," she instructed. "Firm pressure."

  I did as she asked while she disposed of the needle in a sealed container.

  After a minute she placed a small bandage over the spot and lowered the armrest.

  "That completes the initial intake samples," she said.

  I exhaled slowly, surprised at how relieved I felt just hearing that.

  "Am I done?"

  "Not quite."

  She turned back to the computer.

  "The lab will process these samples and assign your classification. You'll wait in the secondary room until the results come back."

  "How long does that take?"

  "Usually twenty to thirty minutes."

  That sounded manageable.

  She gestured toward the door.

  "Take a left down the hallway. The observation room will be on your right."

  I picked up my bag and stood carefully. My legs felt steady enough, though there was a slight lightness in my head that made me move slower than usual.

  "Drink water if you feel dizzy," she added.

  "Okay."

  I thanked her quietly and stepped back into the hallway.

  The corridor felt cooler than the intake room. I adjusted my sleeve over the bandage and followed her directions toward the observation area.

  Inside, a dozen chairs were arranged along the walls where other donors waited quietly for their results.

  I took an empty seat near the end of the row.

  Across the room, a large glass window looked out toward the main lobby.

  From here I could see the waiting area again.

  More people were arriving.

  More numbers appeared on the screens.

  And somewhere out there in the building, unseen by most of the humans waiting in chairs like mine, vampires continued to observe the entire process with quiet interest.

  I leaned back slightly in my seat and pressed my fingers against the bandage on my arm.

  This was only the first step.

  The real part of registration hadn't even begun yet.