A Site of Pure Fiction

Leading the Way

I am very pleased with my newest disciples. Day by day their powers grow. Juventino already shows a remarkable aptitude for the mortal languages…but his is a story for another time. It is the one called Danielle that now occupies my mind. Her first hunt with me…a work of art.

Pauvre chère…at first I was not sure I had chosen well in her. She foolishly clung to her old mortal life, as if there was anything left to cling to. I made sure that there would not be. Still, she became like a ghost, wandering in pain and misery…and hunger.

As for me, I had finally grown weary of her constant lamentations. I was determined that I would either teach her the hunt…or send her the rest of the way to oblivion. She was ready, though–her own hunger made her ready. She took my hand, and in a speed that can only be accomplished by the dead, we came to my favorite hunting grounds, deep within the city.

First, we stopped by a little nightclub the local mortals called “The Milk Bar.” At least, that was it’s current name. Before we entered, I told her my one rule–feed on whomever you’d like, but never kill while inside. She blanched at the mention of the word “kill,” and turned away from me for a moment, but she could not resist me, much less her own hunger. I drew her close to me and held her, though I could not help but utter a small laugh. Her innocence was…cute.

We went inside to the dark, smoke-filled club, where young bodies jerked to the beat of angry music. I led her out to the dance floor, and with a little coaxing, she and I began to dance together. “Watch the crowd” I whispered in her ear, “they will come to you.” No sooner than I had spoken those words than I noticed two handsome young men staring at us. Without a word Danielle followed my gaze; I was pleased to see the bloodlust–FINALLY–grow in her eyes. We did not beckon to them. There was no need. The pull of our stare was all we needed.

As the four of us danced, I demonstrated to Danielle how to subtly bite our victims. There is a technique to this–vampires that willy nilly just rip and tear their victims are the ones that are soon hunted and killed like animals by the mortals. She watched me, then turned to her own victim to follow suit. For a moment though, she hesitated. I could feel her inner turmoil wage its war. I merely waited. I felt her harden her resolve, then before she could change her mind yet again, she bit into her victim. A bit too harshly, for the young man cried out in pain. That was fine, though–the music was far too loud for anyone to notice. She relaxed her jaw a bit as the blood began to fill her mouth, and her victim fell back into a semi-hypnotized state. As she drank, I whispered more instructions into her ear. How to listen for the victims hearbeat as she drank, and how by its rhythm she would know when she has drank all the mortal’s body can handle. “Very good, Faye,” I whispered in encouragement. She stopped and looked at me in confusion, but I only smiled. Now that she had been baptized in blood, it was only fitting that she should have a new name for her new life. It was a tradition for most vampires…especially vampires with too strong a hold on the mortal world. Without a word from me she began to understand, and with a smile Faye returned to feeding.

I am proud to say that by the 3rd victim, she had it down to a near-science. However, these were mere apéritifs. She had gone for far too long without feeding, and with each drop of blood her bloodlust was only growing. It was time she picked a victim that could leave with her.

“We are leaving” I told her after she had snacked on her…what was it…tenth victim, I believe? Her disappointment was clearly evident on her face, and I laughed in spite of myself. “Do not worry, pretty one. You are not leaving empty handed. Pick one.” For a moment, her eagerness fled her, and she blanched once again. Old mortal fears were haunting her, and with uncertainty she gazed at me, and then again at the crowd. Assez de cette folie! All humor leaving me, I stared at her firmly. Her hesitation to kill gave way to fear of me, and with wide eyes she gazed at me with rapt attention. “Pick one, Faye,” I repeated coldly.

Shaking slightly, Faye gazed out to the crowd, scanning until she found one she liked.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s