As I cross the room, following her towards an empty bed, I ignore the stares of humans and vampires alike who clearly know who I am—I can’t find the will to care at this point.
“I’ve seen your face before,” the woman says as she sits on the bed, the cheap sheets crinkling under her like paper.
“Oh, yeah?” I mutter, hardly aware of anything but the throbbing vein in the side of her neck. I lick my lips, my fangs sliding down as I inch closer.
Usually, I’m one for niceties. I’d like to think I’m good at making feeders feel comfortable, allowing them to enjoy the process as much as I typically do. Not today, though.
“You’re that princess,” she realizes. Her expression is distant. Dreamy. From the marks on her neck, chest, and arms, this is far from her first feeding today. I wonder how much is left—will it be enough to sate the monster?
“I’m no princess.” I slide my chair closer to the bed.
The feeder moves her long, dark hair away from her neck, granting me access, and my pulse races in response. “Really?” she says faintly. “You look exactly like—”
I touch her arm, cutting her off. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really… I’m really hungry.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles, turning her face away and baring her throat. She folds her hands on her stomach and exhales.
Without a moment of hesitation, I sink my fangs into the woman's throat. She gasps, whimpering as I slice through her skin and into her jugular. Drinking deeply, I close my eyes, reveling in the way her blood explodes over my tastebuds. I swallow greedily, her blood smooth and almost sweet as it passes over my tongue and down my throat, warming my stomach like red wine. It doesn’t take long, a few minutes maybe, before the throbbing in my gums recedes. The woman moans as my venom trickles into her bloodstream, having mixed with my saliva as I fed. Her grip on the sheets loosens, and her pulse sings with subdued bliss.
My heart slows, my mind quiets. When I open my eyes, the world comes into focus, like I’ve been looking at it through a broken camera.
Pulling back completely, I lick the blood from my lips. The woman is barely conscious, but her pulse is steady enough that I can leave without worrying I took too much. I haven’t always been good at remembering to track the human’s heartbeat while also satiating my thirst, but years ago, Father himself trained me how to feed properly. I think he could see how much the bloodlust bothered me.
Just as I step away from the bed, though, the human stirs. She blinks up at me blearily. It feels strange to thank her, but I also can’t bring myself to leave without a word. “Take care of yourself,” I mutter, turning away. “You really need take an iron supplement and some vitamin B twice a day. Or evening, I should say. Good… good luck, with everything.”
The girl blinks again, and this time, it’s as though she’s looking through me. “The blood man is coming,” she murmurs. “He’s coming, coming, coming. Silver teeth. Better run.”
I know it’s the venom speaking, but the eerie words, combined with her happy expression, make my skin prickle with goosebumps. Without responding, I turn my back on the woman and hurry away.
Though she was hardly unwilling to let me feed on her, the guilt is already setting in. It feels like a monster with physical form, stalking me every step of the way, breathing hot air onto my neck. As I push the door open, I bow my head against a gust of wind, thinking of those lessons with my father, once so tender-eyed and affectionate as he looked at me.
“You can do this, Charlotte. You just need to focus. Think about how awful you’ll feel if you hurt one of your favorite human pets. Hold onto that while you’re feeding. Use that to make yourself stop when it’s time.”
I blinked the tears away. “But how will I know?”
Alexander Travesty, a creature I’d overheard our servants call the devil, smiled angelically at me. “There’s a moment when you’re feeding that you’ll have to listen for. The human’s heart will race for a few beats.. and then slow drastically down. That’s when you know it’s time to make a choice—stop feeding, or continue drinking and risk taking its life.”
“Okay, Father,” I said in a small voice.
He rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get better at it with time, sweetheart. And we have nothing but time.”
Remembering how it used to be makes me want to cry again, but I refrain from doing so as I head down the street with a full stomach. Once again, I pull my hood over my head in an attempt to block out the sun, and move at inhuman speed back to the boardinghouse. By the time I creep up the stairs, my limbs are heavy with exhaustion.
It starts to rain again as I’m hurrying down the hallway. Water pounds against the roof with insubstantial fists as I slip into my room. Fully clothed, I lower myself onto the thin mattress and try to coax sleep to me. But now, with the hunger pangs gone, everything else I’ve been holding at bay has a chance to sweep down in a burst of flapping wings and flashing fangs. I wish I could be a child again with the belief that a single blanket would keep the monsters away.
Where will I go in two days? When the money runs out, I won’t be able to rent a room or an apartment. Maybe there’s a homeless shelter nearby? There must be other Lavenders in the city…
Suddenly there’s a soft scratching at the door. I’m already on edge, and the sound makes my heart lurch in my chest. I sit upright in a blur, uncertain whether I want to fight or flee, hardly daring to breathe… until I hear a heartbeat that’s faint and small through the thin layer of wood.
“Damn cat,” I mutter, getting off the bed with a relieved sigh. I cross the room on silent feet and open the door. The little beast runs in, brushes past me without expressing any sort of gratitude, and immediately leaps for the windowsill. Her calico fur glows prettily in a flash of lightning as she sits, curls her tail around her paws, and gazes out the glass at the rain falling from heavy clouds. I close the door and hurry back into bed, making the bedsprings squeak.
Within seconds, the fear and the worry comes back, wrapping around me like a blanket of thorns. The air is so cold that it seems to sprout icicles that sink into my skin. I combat both shivers and sobs, but as the day wears on, I lose the war to both. Again and again, I relive the expression on the Vampire King’s face as he closes himself to me. Forever.
An hour passes. Two. On hour three, though my heart still aches, my tears run dry. My face feels swollen as I roll over and stare at the cat. I pray to sleep like it’s a god, able to grant wishes and pay visits. Meanwhile the sun plods along the blue, blue road it travels every day. Shadows shift over the uneven floorboards. All the while, the creature on the windowsill doesn’t do anything—she just stays through every pang of panic, every tear of terror, a silent presence.
Sometimes, though, that’s really all you need.
I wake to the sound of sirens and the sharp bark of gunfire. So it wasn’t a terrible dream, I think as I open my eyes. A sigh fills my throat. Just in case I forgot where I was, Oldbel is here to remind me.
“Drew, you have got to stop watering dead plants. Throw them away.”
Shouts float through the paper-thin walls. There’s a flurry of activity on the other side of the door. More footsteps pound past. Doors open and slam. Ada’s voice thunders from somewhere downstairs, and in that instant, I realize breakfast is over.