This is rather a large departure from my usual type of story. I don't usually write supernatural type tales, but here goes nothing. :)
Hunger
'Air of the Dog
The coppery tang burst along his tongue, his lips working to contain the gush of blood pulsing in rhythm with the fluttering of a human heart. Gaara swallowed it down in gulps, feeling its warmth travel down his body and easing the chill gnawing at him from inside. The woman's dark lashes fluttered like a hummingbird's wings, her pale skin almost translucent in the moonlight. Her mouth fell open, throat choking down the innate desire to scream. Gaara clung to her as his mouth sucked greedily, tongue lapping the torn skin.
Slowly, the fight began to leave her. The fingers gripping his arm had no strength, her knees bending toward the earth. Gaara held her tight against him and shivered, feeling his strength returning. Brushing a lock of her dark hair aside, he rubbed his thumb along her slender neck almost endearingly as he stole the life out of her. He lost himself in the rhythm of that pulse against him, his ears drumming with the small whimpers of her dying voice.
She could still make it, he realized; if he left her now. If he healed the wound and let her go, she would be weak, but she would not be another body in the ground. He paused then as her life nearly dwindled. Licking his lips he caressed her pale cheek and wondered if she had a lover, or a brother, or anyone who would miss her. Not that it mattered. It never mattered.
The leaves rustled, startling him out of his thoughts. His hunger assuaged, awareness prickled along his spine and for the first time he became conscious of the forest breathing, watching him with its many eyes.
He whipped his head around searching the darkness for its creatures, for the glow of eyes reflected in the moonlight. His victim moaned softly, fingers curling against nothing while her eyes gazed blankly into the dark. The blood seeping from the wound had slowed into a trickle, a thin stream sliding down her neck. He could smell nothing but the human scent of her body; the copper tang of her blood mixed with the earth. So absorbed had he been in the allure of his victim he had forgotten that the forest was host to more dangerous beings. Her blood would beckon more than himself.
He gathered the limp body against him. The folds of her skirt dragged along the dirt as he stepped back away from this well-lit place. There was too much moonlight. He was too visible, too exposed; and though he could detect no other human for miles around, the glow peering at him from the darkness was unmistakable. The intelligence in those red eyes was almost human.
Gaara bared his fangs and hissed; a warning that he was stronger and had it been animal, it would have been smart enough to flee. The red glow stayed fixed on his form.
A large paw emerged in the light of the moon. An orange-red deep enough even in moonlight to remind him of sunset. A fox larger than any fox he had ever seen emerged from the shadows. It moved into the light and sat back on its haunches, eyes locked on Gaara's in challenge.
Gaara had lived long enough to know about the sometimes unexplainable things in the world; creatures like himself that shouldn't have existed, but did. He kept his eyes locked on this being and slowly lowered the woman to the ground. The leaves rustled beneath her body. She let out a small moan though her eyes were closed. The fox lifted his paw as though gesturing to her, as though asking for her to be left behind.
A childhood story rose to the surface of his memory. A tale of spirits, physical embodiments of the land. There were some that demanded sacrifices. There were some who whisked mortals into the forest and never let them go. The woman he had chosen was beautiful. And though damaged, she was still alive.
Unsure of the power of the spirit before him, Gaara raised his hands to show he was free of her. He detected no maliciousness from the other creature and Gaara desired no fight where none was necessary. He backed away slowly and the fox watched him. The large creature rose to his feet and padded across the brush soundlessly. He lowered his head and sniffed the wound at the girl's neck. Leaving him this sacrifice, Gaara quietly turned and slipped away.
He was being followed. Though he could not see his pursuer, he felt the distinct sense of being watched. An invisible presence lurked in his consciousness since the moment he woke up in the abandoned cabin. He picked up speed, traveling through the forest faster than was advisable. Whatever pursued him was not human, nor was it his own kind. He was unfamiliar with this land and he did not care to find out what local inhabitants his presence had provoked.
Lights blinked in the distance, only a pinprick of light penetrating the dark foliage. His ears picked up the distant rush of wheels as a car sped by on a paved road. He slowed his pace and listened closely, moved silently toward the road. Another car appeared and he followed the lights. Whoever or whatever followed kept its distance.
A neon sign blinked like a beacon shining in the dark. A dog wagged its tail just above the letters "air of the dog." He presumed the H was out. A few cars were parked on the loose gravel outside the small establishment. Someone stood in the doorway, a female silhouette haloed in light. Her head turned as though she was looking out into the forest, searching for something. Gaara stayed in the shadows and waited for her to retreat back inside before making himself visible.
His hands brushed along the sleeves of his black coat. He dusted off dried leaves and twigs, hoping no one would notice the smell. The shirt underneath was stiff with dry blood and he was thankful for the autumn chill. He buttoned his coat up to his neck and removed another twig caught in the wool. Hands in his pockets, he stepped out onto the gravel and tried to appear unassuming as he entered the bar.
A woman with short, spiky brown hair nodded to him as he entered. Her dark eyes narrowed at him suspiciously even as she waved her hand to gesture to the tables. There was an energy about her, an intensity that stood out among the patrons. He had felt this energy before.
She wasn't human.
His first impulse was to step backward, to exit out the door from which he just came. But the other patrons had turned to see the newcomer and so Gaara kept his head down as he ducked into the corner. He seated himself at a small table, back to the wall and facing the door. He glanced around as he picked up the menu and pretended to look over the contents.
A man with a long mane of white hair sat the bar. He smiled and teased the young woman next to him. She look unamused but was patient with his advances. A young woman with dark hair pulled up in a pony tail bussed tables. She had the same dark eyes, the same roiling energy coming off of her. She gave him a cursory glance and her lip slid up, revealing a large canine. She shook her head as though laughing to herself. Gaara tried not to panic as he realized he had waltzed straight into shifter territory. And not just a territory, but a pack.
If he could manage to keep his head down, they might let him pass without attacking. He was alone, and he was not being aggressive. If they were generous, they might overlook his trespassing. But these two were female and already he could feel them watching him closely. He searched the scant few patrons in the bar, but none of them exuded the same energy. None of them seemed to notice that anything was wrong.
The female waitress approached. She didn't touch the notepad hanging in her apron. By human standards she was pretty. Had she been human, he might have attempted to lure her out. Gaara was grateful for his meal the night before.
"You look a little young to be in here," the waitress smiled. "Can I get you a soda? A glass of milk perhaps?" The playfulness in her voice was too obvious. Gaara swallowed his pride and did not rise to the bait.
"Cranberry juice, please. Or if you tell me how to get to the nearest town, I'll be out of your hair before you notice." He met her eyes, let his expression convey his sincerity. He didn't try to glamour her and the change in her expression, the set of her mouth, let him know she understood the message.
"Which way are you headed?" she asked cautiously.
"North," he said. She nodded and her feet began moving toward the counter. The woman at the bar watched curiously. Their dark heads bent close and a hurried exchange of whispers took place. The bartender nodded and the younger girl disappeared into the back. The man with the white hair called for another drink and the bartender smiled at him as she pulled his glass forward.
The door opened and two men walked in. Both young, twenty-somethings. One with the same spiky dark hair as the others, the same harsh energy pulsing around his body. He looked in Gaara's corner immediately and the vampire tensed, ready to strike should the other feel the need to attack.
The man next to him threw an arm around his shoulder and laughed at something while ushering him to the bar. He was tall, solidly built with bright yellow hair and skin dark enough to show that he spent a fair amount of time outdoors. Energy hummed around him but it didn't match the same pattern as the bar owners. There was something different, something off about him. There was something eerily familiar.
The two young men slid onto bar stools and chatted with the bartender. The blond leaned his elbows against the counter and gestured forward with one finger. He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the tables and when his eyes fell on Gaara he smiled and gave a friendly nod. His companion shot dirty looks, though he made no move to approach him. Gaara looked away and hoped the waitress would come back out soon.
When the waitress returned she stopped by the counter first. She held a small conference with the rest of the party and a few looks were sent his way. It was the blond who slid off the stool and grabbed two drinks off the counter. He slowly approached Gaara, smiling the entire way.
Two heavy glasses were set on the table. The wooden legs of the chair scraped against the floor and the other man sank into the chair like it was leather and not the unyielding wood that dug into his back. From this position, he appeared less intimidating. Slouched in the chair he picked up his drink and knocked back the glass. He looked at the other glass expectantly and Gaara, realizing he was waiting for him to drink it, felt his stomach lurch at the idea.
He picked it up and let the liquid wet his lips, careful not to let any enter his mouth.
"You're not from around here," the young man said jovially.
"I'm passing through," Gaara said, setting the glass back down on the table. "I stopped for directions."
The young man paused and his smile turned contemplative. He took another drink from his cup. Gaara tried not to squirm under his gaze. Something about it felt too familiar. He wondered if this was his stalker in the woods. But this energy was different. Not quite the vibrant energy from the other shifters. Something muted, unnoticeable to anyone not looking.
"That's a shame," he said with a slow shake of his head. "We've got a tight knit community here. The type where we all know each other... watch each other's backs." The smile no longer touched his eyes. There was an edge in his voice that made Gaara want to throw up the table and bolt for the door. He imagined fleeing, but there was only one entrance and three of them watching him from the bar. He would never make it in time.
"What do you want?" Gaara said testily.
"Just curious about the new guy," the other man said. "Thought we could have a chat before you high tail out of here." He rummaged in his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out a worn photo. He slid it carefully across the table. Gaara looked down at a photo of a young woman with pale skin, light eyes and long, straight black hair. She was smiling demurely into the camera, her hands holding a bouquet of flowers. Dread filled the pit of his stomach.
"My buddy Kiba is pretty upset tonight. His girlfriend was attacked by a wild animal last night. Poor girl was found half dead in the woods. Cops can't figure out what happened. We tried asking her when she woke up, but the whole night is a blank. You didn't happen to see anything last night, did you? While you were out there on the road?"
The blue eyes watched him very carefully. All hints of mirth had left his expression despite the light inflection in his voice. Gaara shot a look at the young man drumming his fingers against the counter, at the two women who all watched him like hungry wolves. A moment of carelessness had jeopardized everything. Had he not waited so long to feed he might have stopped himself. Had he not been wild with hunger...
"I stopped by a large house last night when I got lost on the road. That young woman answered the door. She invited me in," he paused. "I was starving." He looked up and met the blue eyes sharp with understanding. The tension in his face eased somewhat. Grief, sympathy maybe, pity for the girl he nearly killed last night. A type of horror perhaps that he had treated her generosity with near death. He remembered her terror when he dragged her into the woods and realized he would be lucky if he escaped with his life.
A cold sort of determination took over the other man. He snatched the photo back with barely contained anger. His face struggled to maintain his friendly facade. Scooting his chair closer he leaned in so his face was not visible to the others and his voice would not reach prying ears.
"Hinata was like a sister to me. And if you had known her..." he broke off and rubbed a hand through his hair. His jaw clenched with anger and three thin scars on his cheek seemed to grow sharper. They seemed to stand out like lines against his skin as though he had grown paler. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. He exhaled and when he opened his eyes again, the illusion was gone.
"He can smell her blood on your clothes. Right now the only thing standing between you and Kiba's claws is me. So if you want to escape with your life, you will help me. You will do as I say until I am content or you will have every member of the Inuzuka pack hunting you down."
Gaara wanted to curse his bad fortune. He wanted to strike out and assert his dominance. He was not some pitiful vampire to be pushed around by shifters. The struggle would be difficult, but if he took them by surprise, he might survive.
Without warning, a hand gripped his wrist painfully. His touch was warm, too warm for comfort and Gaara should have been able to shake him off, but he couldn't. The young man's face had changed again. The scars against his cheeks stood out sharply and the edges of his blue eyes began to bleed red. The energy in the air began to rise. Gaara had never felt anything like it before.
"Think carefully about your decision," the man said. Gaara looked into the same eyes as the night before- the fox that had challenged him and taken the girl for himself.
Gaara relaxed into his chair. The shifters at the bar were tense, but as the energy roiling off his companion began to calm, so did they. Red eyes shifted back into blue. The man released his grip. He reached for his back pocket and pulled out the wallet again. He returned the photo of the girl and pulled out another.
Gaara looked at a picture of a young man, a teenager with pale skin and black hair. He didn't look related to the girl, but something about him was familiar. He wore a white sweat shirt that zipped up the middle. His hair stuck up in small tufts at the back.
"Have you ever seen him?" the fox asked him. Gaara shook his head. Still, his memory worked to place the resemblance. He thought of the vampires he had come across, and their human companions. He had the sense that this was were to look, but he could not figure out why.
The fox watched him carefully. "He ran away years ago. I've been searching for him, but no one has ever seen him, and when they do, the information is too old."
"If he ran away he doesn't want to be found," Gaara snapped. The fox snorted and pulled out another photo. He held it up and Gaara felt a chill. The same boy smiled in the photo. He was years younger and holding hands with another boy. A young man taller than him with the same pale skin and dark hair. The same inky black eyes.
"He went to look for his brother."
In the distance, a man stood behind them. Gaara stared, telling himself it couldn't be right. He grabbed the photo and scrutinized the face. More human looking, but undeniably the same. He would know those yellow eyes anywhere.
"Orochimaru," he said and the fox startled at the name. What were the chances of finding he had been here? He looked at the boy again- the child who just might lead him to his enemy.
"You know him?" the fox asked. "You've seen him before?"
Gaara nodded and absently returned the photo. "He killed my father," he said.