Steam blurred the streetlights. It escaped from nearby sewer vents like a convict slipping through the bars. The thinning mist sifted through the night air, a spreading virus, permeating the city. The familiar sounds of cars honking and people yelling echoed through the streets creating the urban music Eric had come to love. That urban music would help him tonight, cloaking his actions with the din of a busy city. The barking of several dogs echoed in a nearby alley as they chased a scared cat that fled into the street before finally being struck by a passing cab. Honking ensued. In a place like that, no one ever noticed Eric. He could live as he chose and be who he wanted to be.

​

     He preferred spending his time here, searching the streets at night for his own delight and pleasure and doing as he pleased, then leaving before anyone was the wiser. Sure, the police would notice within a few days as a dead body or two surfaced in some almost forgotten alcove of an alley wall, but Eric was nowhere to be seen by that time, already searching the streets for his next victim.

​

     The moon watched over him tonight as he stalked past an abandoned church, a place that always made him laugh just a little. A small smirk curled his lips as he thought about the loss of faith in this world. His vision sharpened and his ears fought for sound as he finally noticed an individual worthy of his attention. She was young, twenty at the most, walking along the street with a wary gaze for any shadow she passed. Her red, sleeveless shirt hung on her shoulders with straps so thin they looked like they would break under the weight of her ample chest, which lay exposed more than most decent girls would stand for. A short, black skirt hung to mid-thigh, leaving slender legs bare. Blue sandals added an odd accent to the rest of her attire. Her backpack, and the books therein, was the only thing separating her appearance from that of a streetwalker. Ladies of the night always walked these streets. They stayed far away from where most cops would dare venture, back in the forgotten streets no one cared about. Those overused women were of no interest. Any innocence and purity were long gone. Licking his lips, he watched the girl move and felt a hunger well up inside of him.

​

     He melted into the first alleyway he came upon, hiding just behind a fire escape until she walked past. She barely had time to let out the beginning of a scream before his hand closed over her mouth and the other wrapped like a serpent around her waist, pulling her into the shadows of the alley. Fear flooded her face so thick it seemed as if it would flow from her eyes along with the tears now running down her cheeks. Her breathing became quick and panicked as she tried in vain to push him away, weak fists striking against his back and sides, all the while screaming beneath his hand.

​

     He smiled and shushed her like a child before pulling her tight and leaning close to her ear. "Don't worry. It will all be over soon." He could smell her, a strong, almost fruity scent tinged with fear. He loved the smell of innocence. His mouth watered.

​

     He pulled her tight, his sharp teeth penetrating the side of her neck with a practiced grace and pushing aside skin like a blade. Her breath caught, her teeth gritted in pain and panic, and blood flowed. 

​

     She continued to fight until exhaustion and fear finally caused her to go limp in his arms. He took what he wanted from her, relishing every moment, every sensation, and then finally set her unconscious body near a dumpster. Her breathing was shallow, her shirt torn, and her hands bruised. Rummaging around in her backpack for a moment, he found what he was looking for. Menthols weren't his favorite, but nothing beat a cigarette afterward. His silver lighter brought a pleasing glow to the cigarette tip. He took a few drags letting the smoke drift out of his mouth and nostrils as he examined his handiwork. “Not half bad, dear. You taste like strawberries.” His tongue ran across his lips once more.

​

     Kneeling back down next to her, he removed a knife from his belt and connected the two deep holes on the side of her neck with practiced precision. When he finished, he took one last look at her beautiful form before walking off into the night. Eric smiled as he disappeared into the steam. “It’s good to be home.”

​

     If the girl survived, she would become another child of darkness, a vampire like himself. If she didn't, then she would probably be mistaken for one more rape victim the cops would sweep under the rug.

​

* * * *

 

     Across the city, another man looked out over the night with eyes that were once gray. After the touch of undeath, they had been burnished until they were polished steel, almost silver. He sat quietly on a rooftop, shielded from view by the carved form of a gargoyle on what was once a museum. The place was closed now, after all the money had moved to the other end of town. The building was boarded up, standing vigil over neighborhoods that once thrived.

​

     Jared sat and watched the night go by. He liked this place. It was old and dead, but it felt peaceful, serene. He often came here to let his mind relax, trying to shed the stress of undeath into the bricks of the city itself so he didn’t have to carry the load. He should be out hunting. At least that’s what the others would say. He should be looking for a meal, relishing in his life and his strength and taking whatever he wanted.

​

     That was the way the others worked. They fed off of people like cattle, fed off of society like a cancer growing unknown. None of the Family cared what the rest did, as long as no one did anything to attract too much attention. The life his kind were expected to live was one of complete excess. Take whatever you want, and don’t worry about who gets hurt. People are nothing better than cattle anyway. Even those few who knew about the life in the shadows, those who willingly put their lives in the hands of the blood, were never regarded better than pets.

​

     The desire was there, the hunger to feed off of the city, but Jared fought it every day. Some days were harder than others. Today had been a tough one. In his mind Jared could see the people he passed on the street, feel his teeth sinking in. That was why he was here, thinking, shedding the weight, and ignoring the world until his calm was pierced by a scream from the alley below.

​

     Those burnished eyes turned from the clouded moon to the ground beneath his perch. Three men surrounded a woman in the alley. Now that he was watching, he could see the hunger in their eyes. They weren’t vampires, just men. They were still monsters. The woman was in her early twenties, a bit younger than Jared would be if he still counted human years.

​

     He told himself he shouldn’t get involved. But there was something about seeing the hunger in those men’s eyes. Rather than stoking his own hunger, it dug deep and pulled at the place where Jared tried to keep his humanity tucked safely away. It pulled at his anger.

 

     As the three approached the woman, Jared slid forward from his perch and dropped silently into the alley behind them. The first assailant didn’t even have time to react as Jared pulled the man off his feet and threw him across the alley. The man collided with a dumpster, and the solid sound of a wet crack told Jared he had used too much strength. The second attacker turned just as Jared wrapped a hand around his throat.

​

     “I don’t think she wants your attention,” Jared growled, fighting to keep his hand steady without crushing the man’s throat. As the would-be attacker kicked and clawed at Jared’s arm, the lack of oxygen mingled with the growing fear in the man’s face. The lack of oxygen and rush of adrenaline left the guy ragged. Jared tossed him to the side once his eyes rolled back.

​

     He turned to look for the last man just as the glow of headlights illuminated the alley. The third man steered the van toward Jared. He didn’t have enough time to get the girl out of the way. If he moved, the van would kill her. Resigning himself to the pain, he planted his feet. The driver expected to run Jared down, not for the van to stop so suddenly. As the van lurched, Jared crumpled to the pavement his ribs cracking from the impact. He thanked his luck the van hadn’t had time to pick up more speed. After a few seconds of ringing in his ears, he pulled himself up by digging his fingers into the bumper. He was hurt enough that the hunger flared up, mingling with his anger. The door to the van tore from its hinges easily, falling to the ground as the last of the metal ripped away. The driver was unconscious from the impact of the airbag.

 

     Jared’s fangs sank into the man’s throat before he had time to think. After a few mouthfuls of crimson life, he started to regain his senses, his broken ribs knitting themselves back together, lessening the hunger. Like pulling apart a magnet, he finally released his bite and dropped the man. The driver was still breathing. Only one of the three attackers wouldn’t be leaving this alley. Jared sighed.

 

     A gasp from behind drew his attention. The girl stood there, nibbling her bottom lip and staring at him in either fear or anticipation. He tried to hide from her gaze. With blood dripping off his chin and fangs still out, he knew she had noticed. Instead of the scream he was expecting, the girl slumped to the ground. Fear and adrenaline had taken their toll. Jared wiped his face with the driver’s shirt, then took a few deep breaths. Breathing was not entirely necessary for his kind, but it was a trick to calm his instincts, one of the few semblances of humanity he had left. Once his fangs receded, he picked the girl up and headed toward the hospital.

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About the Author:

Stephen Mayo lives in Montana with his wife, daughter, and three cats.

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