Jane Trained for Real
A scream echoed off the walls, causing the men to look over their shoulders in panic. Then they, too, screamed. A woman was descending out of the sky - if she could be called a woman. She was naked from the waist up, flying by means of fearsome wings that extended from her back. Jane's vampiric senses enabled her to note the creature's mottled and sickly face, the claws extending from fingers and toes, and the eager yellow light that shone from her eyes. Then the monster pounced.
Jane had witnessed feeding frenzies before, but not like this. The shadow-feeder rent and tore and gored, her insane cries of lust and rage shattering the night. Jane pressed herself against a brick wall, terrified, as the old-school vampire settled on the body in the fewest pieces and began drinking.
The smell threatened to overwhelm Jane. This thirst consuming her insides - this was what being on the receiving end of her ability must feel like to others. She thought of running, but she dared not draw attention to herself.
The shadow-feeder's appearance reverted to human form, though her wings remained. She stood up and began approaching Jane slowly, calmly, blood dripping from her arms and face. Then the shadow-feeder smiled, and Jane recognized Lucy.
Jane had never wanted to use her power so badly. She would immobilize Lucy and run. She had to do it. Owen couldn't expect her to just stand here while a blood-drenched angel of death forced such undead stench into her personal space. Except that was what Owen expected. And Jane realized that this was the real test - not if she could keep from eating random humans, but if she could keep from paining her personal tutor.
Lucy got within six inches of Jane and pressed a finger to the stone vampire's lips. Jane squeezed her eyes and started shaking. Her thoughts drifted back to burning at the stake: this was the same combination of agony and beauty and horror and ecstasy.
Lucy caressed her lips. Jane began moaning with a new pain, desperate and frightening. Then she gasped as bloody fingers penetrated her other lips. Her moans grew urgent, until she, too, finally screamed into the night with a potency and completeness no feeding had ever provided.
She collapsed onto Lucy's bare chest, suddenly understanding the mysteries of why people did what they did. Jane pressed her face into the cold, undead cleavage, desperate, longing: her teacher had better teach her more.