My Precious Nightmare

10: An Old One

As Husani smelled the oncoming night, he told the guilty part of himself that the sedative was important to keeping the girl safe. He couldn't leave her just to come back and find she had wandered off alone in an unsavory part of the city where anyone could find her, other vampires included.

Still, he was surprised at how readily she drank up the hot cocoa he gave her. When she'd woken up for a moment she had only picked at her food, which was to be expected. But the way she hugged the warm drink to her mouth unnerved him. It was almost as though she were seeking comfort from the sweetness.

And then, as her eyes had been closing, she met his and he knew she knew he had drugged it just like the first.

He stayed a good half hour after she had fallen asleep, wishing he'd at least asked her name before giving her the cocoa, before finally leaving, locking the door tight behind him. Then he reached out for the shadows like one would a cloak, curled them about him, and took off to the sky for the last place he had the trail of the rogue vampire. He found no pleasure from watching the city lights pass beneath him, or from the chill, nearly freezing air against his face. In fact, his usually clear, sharp mind was rather muddled with half-formed thoughts.

Really, there was nothing for him to feel guilty for. She was lucky he was the first vampire to find her, with blood like hers. He'd use the extra strength to take down this particularly powerful vampire then send her home, neither of them worse for wear. And if she reported him, which he actually hoped she did, it wasn't like he didn't know how to change his identity or go under the radar. He was due for another move soon anyway.

The trail was a day old, now, and difficult to pick out beneath the multiple layers of scum the city tended to blanket over everything. He had to covertly get on the ground several times, like a dog. Twice he almost got hit by a car, as the extra speed he had gotten from Lea's blood died down, which was a pity as he had been using it to cover the ground he had missed. Lucky for him the vampire seemed to linger near the back of a barred up pawn shop for a while. The scent thickened, as did the pounding of his heart.

Just as he thought he might be reaching the end of the trail, he came to the side of the Tijuana River, a sad, polluted thing encased by cement and sticky grass. Taking hold of the shadows again, he spread his wings and took to the other side to find the scent, but found nothing over several miles of shore.

The aching of his wings, which weren't built for long flights, brought him back down to the muddy ground, cursing.

"Do boats even go this far upstream?" he wondered aloud, eyeing the murky waters. Old and new warehouses crowded the shores further West towards the ocean, but here the river was narrow and hemmed by chain-link fences, streets, and a mixture of shopping malls and old apartment buildings. It wasn't the poorer parts of town Husani was used to, but neither was it all that rich either.

Figuring he should keep moving, in the case the gunman from the night before should catch up with him, he stretched his wings for one last flight and took towards the ocean, where the warehouses might prove a good hideout for a weary vampire.

Just as the first of the metal warehouses spread beneath him, his screaming wings brought him back down, refusing to go any further. He tucked them back into his flesh and pulled his shirt back on, keeping an eye out for any discrepancies. Built for the night, his vision pierced through every shadow, using the light from the moon like the noonday sun. Even so, the spaces between the tall, riveted metal buildings gave plenty of hiding spots for ambushing.

He took a deep breath. Rust. Metal. Water. Distant sea grime. Fume soaked cement.

And there, on the very edge of it, a familiar pungent smell, like melon that had been left out to mold.

Husani smirked wide. The tips of his lengthening fangs nicked the edge of his lips. Buried hunting instincts shot to the surface as he undid carefully placed mental holds, brightening his vision and bringing the scent of his prey to a vivid burning. He took off his shoes and jeans to reduce noise, leaving himself in spandex athletic shorts, and set them behind a set of old wood pallets before shrinking into the shadows.

Time seemed to lengthen. Each corner he rounded brought possibility. It just pleased him all the more that he couldn't make out the warm scent of live human. That meant he could go all out, and his instincts whooped with glee at the new freedom.

Countless corners later, he found his prey in an empty warehouse.

The vampire had a crazed, long mane of platinum blond hair, practically white, that shone in the moonlight. So he was old, thought Husani. Very old, as a vampire's hair color lightened with age. The vampire had his back to Husani and his focus to something between his feet as he sat on a long, short crate. Husani could smell something like blood off of him, but an old blood. It made his mouth water. He thought of the sweet, soft young woman waiting for him back home and the thought nearly turned him off from his prey entirely. But he still had his mind and the strength to school his instincts back to the target at hand.

Now the question: should he attack without warning or be chivalrous? This being was, after all, as self-aware as himself, or not. An age of living off slaughter could do things to the mind.

Husani took another whiff of the sweet blood on the old vampire against his control.

"I can smell you."

Husani froze.