The fact that the human Aaron Gray has no idea what's about to befall him almost takes the excitement out of the game.
Almost.
The thought of taking him, pushing him against a wall and showing him what I am before burying my teeth in his neck, finding the pulsing carotid artery there, sweet with the thick stream that is his blood, his life, quells my boredom. Every time I imagine the smell of his fear, how the whites of his eyes will swallow the iris, of the screams that will try desperately to tear their way out of his throat, my teeth lengthen, ache with the need to bathe themselves in his blood. I take in air I don't need to breathe and let it out with an almost-silent hiss.
Though the joy of a kill is running through me, an excitement I haven't felt in hundreds of years, but I collect myself. I'm in a public place, which I'm comfortable enough in, but it is an extra risk, one that threatens exposure and my livelihood. What complicates matters is the fact that I'm not alone in my hunt for Mr. Gray. His appetite for blood, a thirst that rivals some of my own kind, and it's finally caught the attention of the police. They'll probably send some pretty thing to face off with this man, to lure him into attacking; the equivalent of rolling up a snowball, placing it on a fire and hoping it doesn't melt. But she won't have to worry, this lamb sent to slaughter, because I have no plans to let Gray go anywhere near jail.
A mistake made by one of my kind, being intruded upon while feeding, had made Gray dangerous, powerful and knowledgeable about vampires. And humans aren't good with power. Or secrets. He's been researching us, becoming a slow but sure threat. He finally crossed the line two weeks ago, when he managed to capture a newly-turned vampire with silver bindings, who he then tortured for information. He'd discovered something, something that could wipe us all out: the power of our blood. It heals humans, makes them stronger, faster and more beautiful, and is also addictive, a drug to them. He'd drained her, the newborn, cut her blood with aspirin, called it 'red coke,' and sold it.
His life is now forfeit, and I've been chosen to end it for him. But now that the police are close, I have to act fast, have to get him tonight, before his need to kill delivers the evidence of our existence into police hands. As I sit here, in a restaurant, waiting for Gray and his 'date,' my associate is glamouring the super of his building, disposing of the vampire blood, cleaning it so no trace is left.
I wait here, surrounded by humans, the women of whom glance my way subtly, the hungry expressions on their faces spelling out exactly what they think of me. I smirk, bored with the attention, annoyed with the pathetic whisperings and small talk that surround me. I try not to listen, but I'm not impervious to the voices that interrupt my own thoughts. Gossip, frivolity, the pitiable lives of those around me fill the air, rushing at the speed of life while I sit like stone, salivating over the violence to come.
My self-induced trance is broken when a woman in a black dress arrives. She gives herself away as a cop quite quickly, though I doubt any mortal would think to question her motives. First, her stance is not that of a woman arriving to a date; she should be nervous, happy, electrified with the anticipation of meeting a would-be lover. But her back is straight, and her face is set, neither animated nor eager. My guess is cemented when she nods at the waiter, another couple at the back of the room, and a table of three men dressed in business attire. Her acknowledegments are micro expressions, flashing across her face for less than a second, but I catch them like a ball snatched from mid air.
She sits at a table across from mine, smoothing the dress across her legs, twitching her shoulders once before settling back into the seat. Her skin, all that I can see, is slightly tan, a memory of the summer that clings stubbornly, refusing to leave, though it is November. Her long, red-brown hair settles on this skin nicely, sliding over her shoulders and back in smooth ripples. My gaze settles there, just above where her collarbone juts out, moving up and down in the rhythmic pattern of her breath.
She turns, feeling my gaze, and stares at me for a moment before frowning and turning away again. I'm surprised; most people, most women, appreciate my eyes lingering on their faces and bodies, or they pretend to be disinterested so I'll be more attracted to them, to the chase. This one finds me uninviting, or at least, had no interest in my attention.
Her features, I can tell, even when twisted into a disapproving frown, aren't beautiful, exactly. Her bottom lip is a little too big, but her top lip curves sweetly, enhanced by a deep cupid's bow, similar to my own. Her nose is small, curved at the end. Her eyes, though, are what catch my attention. They're large, slightly wide-set and deep, but the color holds me. The inner iris is an ice blue with odd dots of color; white, grey, green, gold, surrounded by a navy-blue ring that makes the iris jump out against the white. She emphasized this with eyeliner and mascara; if she isn't beautiful, she's certainly striking, the sort you want to examine closely to figure out why, exactly, you're so interested.
I'm trying to do just that when Gray arrives. I pinpoint my interest to her instant dismissal, her apathy toward me. She stands, greets him with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Her shoulders tense when he lays his hand there, grasps at the skin lightly to give her a kiss on the cheek. He tells her she looks beautiful. The way the black fabric of her dress flows over her tall, lithe frame, I'm not disinclined to agree. She thanks him and they sit, begin to dissolve into idle chatter about where they're from, where they went to school, what they do; I roll my eyes internally. Humans. I understand that I used to be one: weak, fragile, a heartbeat away from death, but really? When will they stop playing these games? Why go out, get to know one another by spewing pleasantries when what they really want is to tear each other's clothes off, join together in ecstasy?
My guest arrives as a waiter approaches Gray's table. Adam is 400 years old, much younger than I, but we understand each other. He tells me the apartment is taken care of, spotless. I thank him, and turn my attention back to the woman, who, by her gaze, knows the waiter. They order, and as soon as the waiter turns around, his smile falls off, lips pulling back into a grimace.
Cop.
Their wine arrives and she takes a sip, closes her eyes as it flows down her throat. I watch the veins in her neck as she swallows and lick my lips reflexively. I want to taste her. She opens her eyes, grins at Gray and I see that her mouth is perfect when she smiles, curved red against the tan of her skin.
Gray asks her what she's writing about; apparently, she's posing as a writer. She blushes, blood running just beneath the skin of her face; I want to touch her cheek, run my fingers over the protective layer that keeps her blood hidden. She offers a description I don't catch; I'm salivating over her blood.
"Something catch your attention?" Adam asks, knowingly. I look at him, a smile playing at his mouth, lighting up his dark eyes.
"She's interesting to watch," I reply, and Adam chuckles. He understands life's lack of surprises after a certain age.
The sound of her heart doubling its pace calls me back to her; anger practically leaps off her skin in waves of heat that makes my own hair stand up. My skin is electric, reading off of hers.
"Wow," Adam whispers, his voice too low for humans to hear. "That's the cop?"
"Seems so," I say. She's smiling again, a hunter's smile that says she's got Gray right where she wants him. But then, she looks toward me again; I raise an eyebrow, wanting to see her reaction to a challenge. She tilts her head, stares into my eyes, hard, the light hitting them so they almost glow, the refraction of the cobalt blue ring jumping out at me. She squints those eyes, then turns back to her date, features neutral once more.
They eat together, and she entices him sensually, eating slowly, calling attention to her lips, her hair, speaking with her hands. When they finish, leans in toward him.
"I'll be right back," she says, and stands up. Gray does as well, then keeps his gaze on the table. I stare at her straight-shouldered, retreating back as she walks smoothly to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Gray leans on the table with an elbow. His face is slightly flushed, and he tenses and relaxes his hand on the table. He's excited, wound tight with energy. His gingers are looking forward to wrapping themselves around the woman's neck. Watching this, my lips pull back instinctively, and Adam puts a hand on my arm.
"Don't," he says, his voice deep with warning. "Do not ruin this. Just wait a little longer." I clamp my mouth shut, close my eyes for a moment and allow a shudder of pleasure to run through my body, the thoughts of what is to come.
"No man of honor kills an innocent woman," I say, the words stiff as planks of steel.
"Different times," Adam says simply, removing his fingers and sitting back in his chair.
Gray signals a different waiter, not the cop, and asks for dessert, and the check. My moment is nearing. The woman comes back from the bathroom, eyes on Gray for the duration of her walk. He smiles up at her as she sits, and tells her he's ordered dessert. He plays coy when she asks what it is, refusing to say until it's come, which is a moment later. Strawberries and cream.
He picks a piece of fruit up, dips it through the thick, white topping and places it delicately in her mouth. She takes it, and licks the tip of his thumb before letting go. Her eyes harden as she does this, but his breathing falters while his heart begins to race.
"Do you want to see a movie?" he asks.
"If I can pick it," she smiles. She knows she's got him. He reaches across the table, strokes her hand lightly with a finger; she turns the hand over and he traces her lifeline.
"Be right back," he says, standing up to pay the check. He turns back. "Want to finish dessert, then meet me out front? I'll pull the car up." She nods her agreement, then places another strawberry on her tongue, chewing slowly.
"It's time," Adam says, and I nod. I stand and head toward the men's bathroom, but instead leave through the back door and cut across the alleyway on the side of the restaurant towards the front. The night air is cool on my skin, and the scents carried by it awaken my hunger. I'm alive with the hunt, with the satisfaction that Gray's blood will bring me. I hear his footfalls a few seconds later. I step out from the darkness of the alley, meet his gaze and tell him, the seductive electricity of the glamour coating my words thick like honey, to come here. He does, his eyes wide, hypnotized. I reach out to him, lift him off his feet, my hands on his expensive collar. Without hesitation, my teeth lengthen and I am a true predator; a second later, his thin skin snaps under the pressure of my fangs and I drink deeply, quickly. His blood boils, red hot in my mouth, down my throat and into my body, igniting excitement, frenzy, everywhere.
I don't notice the woman coming toward me, gun drawn. I do notice when she puts four bullets into my chest; the pain is sharp, encompasses my thoughts for a fiery moment. I release Gray, who lets out a death rattle before shuddering quietly on the ground. Blood dribbles down my chin and I pull my lips back into a snarl. The woman stares at me without wavering, though she should be afraid, should be begging for her life.
Either way, I won't be the one taking it.
"You never saw this," I say, laying the glamour into the words. "You're going to get back in your car and forget you were going to see a movie with him."
She looks at me like I've grown a second head, sort of the reaction I thought being a vampire would get.
"What are you trying to pull?" Her words are fierce, triumphant.
My fangs retract in surprise. My glamour isn't working; she isn't getting that sleepy smile across her face, isn't backing away, content with her new reality.
"Interesting," I say, and lick my lips for the blood that's still there. "Very interesting."
She tells me all that's interesting is how I'm going to survive in jail, since I did just screw up a police investigation. I laugh. No human will ever know I've even been here.
Grey gurgles below me, exhaling for the last time. "I'm not going anywhere, and, in fact, you're coming with me." I pick Gray's body up, moving too fast for the woman to see, and then rush at her.
"Like hell I--" She gets out, before I tap her lightly on the head, forcing consciousness from her. I pull her over my shoulder, pick up her purse, which had fallen from her hand, and walk across the street quickly so that anyone looking would see a shadowy blur; by the time they rubbed their eyes and looked again, I would be gone.
My car waited, idling on the side of the road. I'd have to remember to thank Adam. I opened the trunk, dumped Gray in, then placed the woman carefully into the front seat.
With my task done, and the entertaining woman in my custody, I begin the drive home.