Kurt had to ignore Rachel's crying and clinging to him. He had to ignore that he would never see his father again.
He had to leave the tavern and follow the woman to her car and slide in the passenger's seat.
She drove through the dark cobbled streets out of town.
"Is it far?" Kurt said quietly. He had to be sure the money reached his family in time.
"Don't worry about it," the woman, Santana, said. "Everything's being taken care of as we speak."
Kurt felt small and insignificant. He folded his stiff, cold hands in his lap.
"Are you a virgin?"
"What?"
Santana glanced at him. "Think of this as a screening. Deal's already been made, but my employer likes to know the situation he's entering."
"Wh-why does he need to know that?" Kurt swallowed nervously.
Santana rolled her eyes. "Relax. He doesn't want to fuck you. Or, well, I guess he might. But I'm asking because it makes the blood taste different."
"Different how?"
"A lot of vamps will say it tastes better, more pure, if you're a virgin, but I think that's a load of bull. It's just some stupid myth from centuries ago."
"Wait…a-are you a vampire?"
Santana laughed. "No. No, but I know a lot of vamps. And Blaine – my employer – is one of many who have told me that the taste may be different, but it's not better or worse. Like apples and oranges or something. So, are you?"
Kurt blushed. "I've never been with anyone."
"Okay. Do you smoke anything?"
"No."
"Got any illnesses?"
"N-not that I know of…"
Her questions continued on like that, and Kurt couldn't tell from her poker face whether his answers were good or not.
At last, they arrived. Santana pulled up to a huge house with a gate that opened automatically. Kurt shivered as the reality of the situation hit him full force.
Tonight, he was going to die.
He would give himself, his blood, his life to a vampire, one rich enough to pay the money necessary to keep his father alive. His father would probably never forgive him, but he would be alive, and he would look after Rachel. It was the best scenario.
Santana showed him to a room with a shower, sink, and toilet. It was a beautiful room. Kurt had never seen a shower before. He was used to boiling rainwater or snow for his baths. She handed him a bar of soap and a large, fluffy towel. Kurt's eyes bugged out at the soap. That bar alone would feed his family for a month.
"I want you squeaky clean head to foot. Blaine has his preferred drinking points, but you never know where he'll pick depending on his mood."
Kurt nodded, fear coiling in his stomach. He wondered how Santana was still alive. But perhaps she never interacted directly with the vampire. She said she knew many vampires, so maybe she acted like this for them all, going amongst the humans, finding desperate people willing to sacrifice their lives, and being paid handsomely for her work, both with money and still being alive.
Because everyone knew vampires only wanted two things from humans: death and sex. They wanted to suck you dry or keep you around as a plaything. Kurt knew he was going to his death, that the vampire would drink his fill and kill him. But he had no other choice.
When he stepped out of the hot shower and wrapped the towel around himself, hugging his body like he was saying goodbye, he found a simple pair of white slacks and a white long sleeved shirt waiting right outside for him. He pulled the things on with trembling hands, grateful he had been given anything at all to wear, and grateful the clothes were so simple.
Santana led him to a tall set of doors that stretched up to the high ceiling. Kurt didn't have the time or wits about him to look around and take in the wealthy splendor around him. Santana knocked twice and waited.
"Blaine is a traditionalist when it comes to feeding. Just listen to what he tells you to do and everything should go accordingly," she said, and she opened the door.
Kurt's knees shook as he stepped inside.