Waiting. I do a lot of waiting, with the taste of Blood burning in my mouth. But
one thing I’ve learned is that you’ve got to wait for the right one, the one who will come
to you. The one who wants it.
The other thing I’m learning is that it’s not good to stick to a spot. I’ve been
hunting here in the club district since I left the crypt, and I’m starting to get looks. People
recognize me, and I think I creep them out. It’s time to move on, but I’m scared. There
are others like me out there, and I don’t think I want to run into them.
Here it comes. My thoughts fade away as a girl comes into view. I feel the wolf
clawing through my brain to the front; my nostrils flare. She’s with a group, a bunch of
clubgoers, nothing special. And there’s nothing special about her looks, but I know she’ll
come. She’s looking for something.
With a quickness that still astounds me, I move through the shadows, and break
into the light from a nearby storefront. I move quickly so as to draw her attention, and it
works. She glances at me, and that’s all I need. First she stares at me, checking me out. I
probably look her type: leather jacket and army pants. Then we make eye contact, and I
gaze right through her eyes and hook her soul. She doesn’t look away. I slow to a
natural pace and approach her, never looking away. Her group stops and questions her,
and glances at me. She mutters a reply, but pays them little attention.
"And what’s your name?" I whisper, projecting it towards my girl. “Beth,” she
answers loudly, still staring. Her friends look at her in confusion.
"Beth, how would you like to come with me, for a night you won’t forget?" I
smile broadly at her, watching the others out of the corner of my eye. They mill about,
staring at me warily. One snickers.
"Yes," she states simply, and steps away from the group, coming to me. My grin
widens.
"Beth, what the hell are you doing!?" sputters a startled young man. "You don’t
know this acid freak." His plea goes unheard as she follows me along the deserted street.
I walk back, past the clubs they must have come from, she walks along behind. I hear
their confused conversation, their worries, their arguments. But I hear no footsteps.
As soon as I put some distance between the group and her, I turn to an alley that
leads behind one club, Zeus’ Balls. I lead Beth through the maze of dumpsters, and the
inky pools of dark between them. Deep into the alley, we lean against the wall, like lovers
sneaking away from the crowd.
He’s apparently oblivious to the sounds coming down the alley. Undoubtedly, the
pounding of the Blood fills his ears. I can hear it from here, but I can also force it back
and listen to what’s around me. That’s what the centuries have done for me, but when
you are young and about to feed, you walk in a sea of Blood. That is why I watch them.
That’s why they need watching.
He’s bent over her now, and he’s feeding. I’ve watched him before. He knows
how to bend minds, how to make them forget. Usually the Newborn overfeed and kill, or
else leave their confused prey to wander in to the night. But he has potential. However,
he needs to be aware. Human minds approach, those mortals who were with the girl
earlier. He’s not going to notice them.
Nothing as a human ever prepared me for this joy. It’s like a continuous orgasm
flowing over every taste bud, and then into my blood, where it delights every cell. I know
I have to keep control of it, or else she will slip away. Still, I can have a few seconds
ecstasy...
Voices. There are people talking around me. I lift my head from her neck and
look dazedly around me. There are people at the corner of this alley, watching
us nervously. They mutter to themselves, peering into the gloom, trying to see us more
clearly. Her friends must have followed us after all. I feel the Blood running down my
chin; I feel her stir in my arms. I don’t have time for this.
I hook the eyes of the first fellow. "Leave. Let us be." I shoot the words at him
with all my force. He looks around nervously, turns as if to go, but runs into a guy behind
him. A girls whispers, "Beth?" Then, steeling herself, "Beth! Are you all right?" A
murmur escapes from the girl in my arms. This seems to strengthen them, and several
guys step down the alleyway. I command them again, but they are looking at Beth, not
me.
"Get away from her," one growls at me. They are spread out and moving along the
alleyway at us. I frantically wipe at the Blood on my mouth, and glance from one to
another. The Blood pounds too hard for me to focus on their eyes. One draws a knife. I
drop the girl to the pavement, and move towards them, hands out.
They rush me together. I let them grapple me, and then explode outwards. Bodies go
flying; I hear them crack against the brick walls. The Blood burns within me, allowing me
to rush to one, lift him and hurl him into a dumpster. He stirs again, so I crush his skull
with a wing of my hand. I turn to the others, and find one already running down the alley,
catching up with the others disappearing around the corner. One man leans against the
wall, staring with a dazed expression. I reach in with my eyes and hook him. “Go.” He
turns to leave, but lurches to his knees. Blood soaks his pants leg. He whimpers and
attempts to pull himself forward. I eye his exposed figure, crawling through the trash.
But I decide to ignore him. Let him deal with the pain he brought on.
The Blood surge is fading, so I lean against a wall and clear my thoughts. I look down at
myself and notice a wet, red stain on my shirt. Surprised, I tenderly probe my chest. I
thought I avoided the knife?! I’m sure I wasn’t hit. I search out the knife, and find it lying
on the pavement, looking clean. Certainly not bloody. Then, as my mind finally rises out
of the lake of Blood, I raise my eyes. There is Beth, slumped against the wall. Her body
is still, her shirt also soaked in blood.
Damn it. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I wanted to stop. I wanted to stop the wound.
I wanted to make her forget. But then came danger. Oh shit.
The red haze around the Newborn is fading. It’s replaced by a cool calm blue, and then
tinged by the deep blues of regret. He has remembered the mortal girl. And even without
the Sight he can tell she is dead. Well, regret is for mortals; Kindred require caution and
control. When it comes time for regret, that’s the end. And it’s no different in this case.
But the mortals are the first danger, I will deal with them.
I’ll require a different form for this job, and help. Within this rat’s body that I inhabit I
find its mind. In it I implant the image of this Newborn, and his smells. I command the rat
to follow. He will do so.
Now I let out a call to the sky above. I touch the minds of the bats above, and give them
the images of the mortals, who are undoubtedly still on the run. The bats will begin the
search, I will finish it.
I position this rat close to the Newborn. Then, with a snap, I release my psyche from its
body and go spiraling back to my hidden sanctuary.
I haven’t seen another mortal tonight. I left Beth’s body where it lay, and crawled
off through the alley into the dark. The burning of my Blood had left me hungry, but I
couldn’t feed again. I shoved it away. I had to after that mess.
It’s almost dawn, and I’m scurrying through the maze of streets to my haven. But
gnawing at my brain is the sound I can hear behind me: the scurrying of small feet. The
rats. I sat under their watchful gaze in the alley, covered with blood. And in every alley
and alcove I’ve visited tonight they’ve been there. I don’t know how to tell rats apart, but
these are starting to look familiar. And that is spooking me.
Not to mention what I found when I returned to the alleyway that held Beth’s
body. She was still there, and so was the tough that I had last seen pulling himself through
the filth. When I had left, that guy had still been whimpering and crawling. When I
returned he lay still, just at the corner of the alley. And his neck was broken clear
through. This was not an injury he had before, I know that. Under the light of the sun I
was a doctor, and no human being could have crawled with a clean break of the neck like
that. It didn’t spell paralysis, it spelt instant death. The angel of death had visited this
man, and it had mighty hands.
Dawn will be soon, and I still have to reach my haven, but I’m unsure what to do.
Behind me are a mess of rats, swarming through the garbage heaps. I don’t know what’s
following me home, but I do know I don’t want to keep it.
But I’m going to have to make a move. It’s time to go home. I make a choice,
get to my feet and get going.
I lie curled in a pile of trash in a long-forgotten sewer tunnel. But my mind is
elsewhere, behind the eyes of a scurrying creature of the night. I watch as the Newborn
hurries home. Dawn approaches, and I too feel the heaviness of sleep on me. I need only
see his haven and I can rest. Come nightfall, the business will be done with. Five mortals
dead will cause a stir, but not the kind that five mortals attacked by a vampire would. And
of course a Kindred is never missed.
As my rats follow his journey I can guess where it’s taking him. The scraps of
humanity that cling to his corpse have led him back here before. No surprise that it is his
haven. I have watched him as he watched his mother. Brooding over the site of his
childhood, watching over what remains of his life. Time does heal all for we Kindred, for
it forces us to sever the tendrils of life that hold us down. Those who let the tendrils drag
them down never discover that release.
As expected, the Newborn has returned to the house of his mother. The night sky
is losing its bulk under the influence of the Sun, and both he and I can feel it. I watch as
he slips to the bulkhead door and descends into the basement. That’s all I need to see. As
the door closes I let loose the bonds that tie me to this rat. Even as my mind returns to my
body I am sinking into the fog of sleep. I let myself go, for I have early work to do this
evening. Early work.
I feel as though I’m walking with chains on. My body is tugging me down into the
slumber of death, but I’m not ready. I crouch inside the basement, listening. Assuring
myself that Mother isn’t awake. I hear no movement, so I open the door and enter the
house. My preternatural speed can do nothing with this sluggishness. So I walk softly
across the kitchen. I rummage through a drawer until I find what I need, and then pad
upstairs. I want to assure that I won’t awake her. I want to reconsider my plan, but
there’s no time for quiet or caution now. If feel as though I will collapse into sleep right
here. I can only hope that whoever or whatever is out there has stopped watching me,
that the rats have left. The blood in me is sluggish, dawn’s light creeps ever closer. I’m
turning into a dead man. I’ll only get one chance at this.
I creep past my mother’s bedroom, and to the very end of the hall. Here are the
stairs that lead her to the attic, once the easel for a child’s imaginings. Summoning my
will I keep going, up and into the attic. Into this shrine to my childhood, to my father’s
life, to days gone by. Filled with boxes and crates, sheets and paper, it’s a quick victim of
my match. The light and heat of the flame char my skin, and with a mewling cry I turn and
run.
Down the steps and down the hall I flee. At my mother’s bedroom I pause. I
pound at its door and watch it splinter. "Mother! Mother! It’s Avery. Get up. Get up
and run!" Behind me I hear crackling; through the door, rustling.
"Avery? Is that you? What are you doing, what happened to you?" I hear fear
and worry and love, I see their colors streaming from the door. I brush them away.
"There’s no time for questions. Run! If you love me, run!" I can’t see her eyes, I
don’t want to see her eyes. But I project my words toward her with all the power and fear
I have. And then I’m gone.
The heat and light chase me down the hallway. Dawn’s first rays pierce me from
the windows. I use the fear to churn my sluggish blood and hurtle myself down the stairs.
In the kitchen I crash through the side door and into the street. Sleep pulls me down and
the Sun impales me, but fear drives me onward.
The Sun has just taken the last-second plunge that ends the day when I rise to my
feet. There will not be another Kindred in the city awake at this moment, especially the
Newborn. This moment is mine alone, paid for with centuries of self-control.
In an instant the Blood is driving me forward through the sewer tunnels at
unbelievable speeds. I’m down on all fours, moving like a rocket through waste, trash and
bare concrete. The Sun’s glow is still on the sky when I reach my destination. I rise to a
drain gate in the pavement behind the Newborn’s haven. A few moments work and he
will no longer be a danger.
I don’t need to sniff to smell the smoke. There’s no fire out there now, but there
has been. There are mortals gathered on the other side of building, but no one here. I pull
myself out from the drain and crouch in the dark. Before me is a pile of charred rubble,
piled onto the hole that used to be a basement.
Suicide?! That’s not what I expected, but it’s certainly not unknown. Even a
Newborn will have experienced the pain of flame enough to know it is a way out. And
certainly those who cling to humanity have reason to want out. This is why I watch first,
act second. Some situations solve themselves. Those Kindred that are a danger to us all
are usually too weak to survive. Regret and nostalgia have no place in a predator, they
only weaken him, and in turn, us.
The fire seems to have been massive, it should have been sufficient to end him in
his Sleep. Still, caution and care. I sniff the wind and probe the ashes with my mind.
Nothing. I open my perceptions and let the colors flow in. I widen my search, in case he
ad enough strength to crawl off. I sense the minds of the city around me. But they are
living. I’m looking for...
Hold on. I’ve felt him. He is only across the street, in another basement. Only
slightly harmed, he must not have been in the fire. He sleeps still, weary from a hard
dawn’s work. I feel an urge to grin. I can see his plan, not in his thoughts, but in its
obviousness. He sensed me somehow and now he feels he has slipped out of the way.
That I will shrug my shoulders and leave, and he will run free. Amusing, how much like
the mortals the Newborns are. Foolish and naive, and so confident. Unfortunately for
him, he sleeps still, and he can still be mine.
Yet, he may have stayed my hand despite his clumsiness. Yes, he reeks of
humanity; he apparently saved his mortal mother who is among those outside the building.
But he had the power to fight the Sleep long enough to pull this off. And he had the will
to destroy his home, and his haven. There may be little need to act. Perhaps the scare of
last night has matured him. Perhaps the scare this morning will harden him.
Coming out of the sleep always comes as a jolt to me. I feel as though I am a dead
man being revived; perhaps by Dr. Frankenstein’s electricity. I find myself sitting upright
in a strange place. I soon remember that I’m in the basement of the apartment building
across the street from my home. I soon remember what I have waiting for me out there,
or possibly in here.
I creep out of the old storage room and towards the basement windows. I try to
be wary, but I’m too eager to see what’s going on outside. If my pursuer is in here I’m
already done, I tell myself.
At the window I see the street I grew up on. The street lights are on, and a crowd
mills about in front of my house. My house is gone. It’s nothing but a pile of black
rubble. I scan the crowd, and a weight lifts off me when I see my mother. So far, so
good.
I don’t know what I’m looking for now. Do I expect to see some beast sifting
through the rubble? Or a horde of rats sniffing at my path? Most likely it’s a person like
me. It could be anyone out there, eyeing the rubble, wondering if some of it is me. I can
only hope they go for my fake. Then I can get the hell out of this part of town. I was
right, it’s not safe to linger, especially after you screw up. I don’t want to attract any
more attention to myself. And I’ve caused enough trouble for my mother already. It’s
time to move on.
I need to get out of this building unseen. I can try to go out the back, and keep to
basements and alleys until...
A shadow moved. Not in here, but out there, behind the rubble. It’s come.
Whatever it is, it’s out there. And I get the feeling I wouldn’t have seen it if it didn’t want
me to. It’s coming for me, it knows I’m here. If I don’t get away, that will be the end.
The shadow shifts again, and this time draws my attention to my mother. She’s
talking with a group of her neighbors. But as I look at her, she turns and looks into the
dark of the alleyway. She stares into the shadows, ignoring the conversation around her.
My mind sees it happening before my eyes do. Her legs will begin to move, will take her
along an invisible string into the bitter dark. It’s a scene I know too well.
The brick sill of the window crumbles in my grip, but my feet sit like stone. I
watch with horrid calm as she reaches the edge of the rubble. Her friends watch her leave,
and continue to talk. At the edge of the shadows, she nods to an unseen figure, and then
turns and stares directly at me. I see nothing in her eyes.
I am racing out of the basement and across the street, too fast to be noticed. In an
instant I’m behind the rubble, surrounded in darkness. A glint catches my eye. It’s a
sewer drain, the grate resting against a pile of charred wood. I lay along the pavement,
slowly extending my head over the edge of the hole. I see nothing but deeper dark inside.
In a cold daze, I reach inside. And feel flesh. Out of the sewer I lift the limp body of my
mother. I hold her bloody face to my still chest, but no tears of blood come. Dry-eyed, I
sit inside the dark and stare into the dead face of my mother.
by Ken Winchenbach Walden! Who Am I? Contact Me
