Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long, but things have been sort of hectic lately and this was a chapter I really didn't want to rush. So, with that said, I hope you all enjoy it, and I'll update again as soon as possible.
Boston, 1806
If Katherine had thought that fresh air would be a relief, she was sadly mistaken. She stood outside her sire's household, crowds of people milling about, going on with their daily business. The wind whipped around, carrying with the unmistakable scent of human flesh, the scent of the blood that coursed through their veins. Katherine inhaled despite herself, instantly regretting it as she knew without a doubt that her pupils were already dilating with hunger. She took an unconscious step backwards, as if to retreat from the temptation, only to be stalled by Darien's firm hands on her shoulders.
"So much fresh blood right for the taking," he murmured, his voice low in her ear. "So many victims to choose from. Who will it be, my dear?"
"None of them," she retorted, her voice tight, strained. "I can't do this."
Even though her gaze remained focused on the milling crowd before them, she could sense the smirk on his face as he responded, "You have to. It's essential for survival."
She swallowed a lump in her throat, protesting, "There has to be some other way. Animal blood as a substitute; drinking but not killing. Anything but this."
"You're not strong enough to be able to subsist on animal blood yet," he said, lightly stroking one finger along the side of her neck. "And if we let our prey live, we put ourselves at risk for exposure. We'd never be able to stay in one location for more than a few days. It's not worth the trouble."
She shuddered a little, pulling away from his touch. "I hate you," she murmured for what must have been the thousandth time since he turned her, her voice trembling.
A resigned sort of sigh, followed by a flat, "I know," was the response she received. Gripping her shoulders a little more tightly, Darien turned her around so that their eyes met. "But you can't keep on fighting me, Katherine," he informed her. "Particularly not on matters like this. I'm only trying to ensure you don't put yourself in harm's way." When he received no other reaction outside of a contemptuous glare, he leaned in to murmur, "You'll want to catch them off-guard and alone. Other than that sage advice, I'll leave you to it," before turning her back around and gently shoving her forward into the crowded streets. By the time she glanced back over her shoulder to glare at him again, he had disappeared.
Swallowing again, she slowly turned back to face the masses. Another shiver coursed through her, but this time it was more in disgust of the way she could feel her body reacting to the scent that was surrounding her; the way her hunger made every inch of her ache with longing for the taste of fresh blood. She couldn't do this. How could Darien possibly expect her to be able to live with herself after taking the life of another? Just because he apparently had no conscience, that didn't mean that she lacked one as well. Regardless of this inner turmoil, however, she found herself unable to muster the strength to turn back and lock herself inside the house, away from all temptation. But to do so would require a certain level of resistance that was, as of yet, beyond her capabilities. He was right, she realized bitterly, there was no other way. Not yet. Heaven help her, if God had any compassion for those souls condemned to this kind of damnation.
It was with resignation that she allowed her gaze to sweep over the surrounding masses as she threaded her way among them. If her heart had still been capable of beating, she was certain that it would be pounding with anxiety. She found herself clenching her fists so tightly that her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she struggled with the urge to just attack the next person who passed her. Even with her body shaking from the need to acquire sustenance, she knew that she'd have to be discreet and she'd have to choose wisely. For a moment, she had to shut her eyes, suddenly feeling quite ill at the turn her thoughts were taking, but she shook the feeling off with effort, continuing her search.
A group of chattering, laughing children passed by unsupervised, taking a shortcut down an alley. The inherent predator instinct that was still new to her urged her to follow, rationing what an easy target they would make, but her conscience, and the memory of the son she had had to abandon, forced her to turn away and head off in the opposite direction. She may have to kill, but she wouldn't be responsible for the death of a child, she swore vehemently to herself. No matter the overwhelming strength of her hunger, she would never sink that low. Never.
Her feet carried her farther down the street, almost of their own accord, and as she continued to thread her way through the huddled masses, she pulled her cloak even more tightly around herself. It wasn't that she was cold-how could she be among all that body heat-but almost as if she felt that by keeping a tight grip on the material, the better she'd be able to anchor herself to the realm of stability. At last, she turned a corner onto a more deserted street and heaved a silent sigh of relief. At last, she could breathe again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an elderly woman attempting to make her way up a steep flight of stairs. She was about a quarter of the way up when her cane got stuck in a crack in the cement and she tottered backwards, about to fall. Within seconds, Katherine was at her side, supporting her as she helped her straighten up. The woman glanced up at her, clearly a little startled by her sudden appearance, but then offered her a gap-toothed smile. "Thank you, dearie."
Katherine returned the smile, sighing inwardly with relief, the sheer hint of decency that had shone through her primal urges ensuring her that perhaps she wasn't soulless after all. "It's no trouble, ma'am," she responded evenly. "May I be of some assistance in helping you up the rest of the stairs? You can lean on my arm."
The woman's smile widened a little more as she said, "Yes, thank you kindly. What a sweetheart you are," taking Katherine's arm when offered it. Katherine proceeded to help her up the stairs without another word, even supporting her patiently as the woman stood on the narrow top step, digging around in her purse for her house key. It wasn't until the front door had swung open, revealing an empty house, and Katherine was helping her elderly companion over the doorstep that Darien's words came back to her. You'll want to catch them off-guard and alone. It was another one of those moments when she knew for certain that some ten years before, her heart would be pounding with anxiety, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. All that prowling and she had happened upon this, the perfect situation, by chance. Was God mocking her or did such luck really befell the condemned
As if some cosmic force was indeed answering her question, the old woman tottered inside, asking, "Would you care for a cup of tea, my dear? It's the least I can do to express my gratitude."
Katherine remained rooted in the doorway, still hesitating despite how easy everything was now coming to her. Finally, however, she managed to calmly respond, "Tea would be lovely, thank you, if it isn't too much trouble," and stepped inside, taking care to close the door behind her.
The woman waved a hand dismissively, already making her way into the kitchen, Katherine following. "Not at all, dearie, not at all." She had to pause in the doorway as a coughing fit overcame her, her frail body shaking a little as she hacked into a handkerchief which gnarled hands had retrieved from a pocket in her skirt. "Excuse me," she apologized once the coughing had subsided, "but these old lungs just aren't what they used to be."
Any reservations that Katherine had retained about what needed to be done faded away at the sound of the first cough that sounded from the woman's lungs. She was elderly, she was ill, Katherine had caught sight of specks of blood dotting the handkerchief, she realized, her mind making swift rationalizations. Even if she didn't attack this woman, she would no doubt be dead within a year or two. During that period, her health could only decline, and she'd end up suffering far worse ailments than the ones she was facing now. By taking her life now, before her condition worsened, wouldn't she be doing her a favor?
The old woman hobbled over to the hearth to start a fire and Katherine knew she didn't have much time to make a decision. As soon as the woman's back was to her, she reached out to seize her firmly, spinning her around and shoving her back against the wall. The woman stared up at her again as she had done before, but the gratitude from earlier had now been replaced by obvious fear. She opened her mouth to speak, but was left speechless with fright. "I'm sorry," Katherine whispered, her voice throbbing with true remorse, before bending to sink her teeth into the woman's throat.
Once she started to feed, she found herself unable to stop. The woman's feeble attempts to push her away, her gasps of pain, all of which might have, under different circumstances, made her pull back had absolutely no effect on her. In fact, it wasn't until she had drained the last drop of blood from the old woman's body that she seemed to even become aware of what she had just done. As realization dawned, her face quickly drained of all the healthy color that had just returned to it, and her hands started to shake as she recoiled, allowing the woman's corpse to drop to the floor.
Clamping a tremulous hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, she started to move backwards, nearly stumbling, until she felt her back press up against the door. Turning doorknob, she wrenched it open, tearing down the stairs at a speed that she hadn't even realized she was capable of. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and turned her gaze downwards, concealing her face, as she hurried almost blindly back the way she had come. By the time she had reached Darien's house, her entire body was trembling in addition to her hands and tears were threatening to fall. She only half-noticed her two companions lounging in the sitting room, waiting for her, and breezed past them and up the stairs, flying into her room and collapsing in a tearful heap on the bed.
Several minutes passed with Katherine just lying there, sobbing brokenly into her pillow, her mind reeling with the images of the atrocity she had just committed. Then she felt a familiar hand, firm but gentle, come to rest on her shoulder, and when she lifted her tearstained face she was met with the sight of Darien. But gone was the smug, slightly leering expression that was his norm, and in its place was one of utmost compassion. She was so stunned by this that she was left speechless, only able to stare at him as tears continued to stream down her face. He was likewise silent, only reaching out to tenderly wipe her tears away, cradling her head in one hand. When he finally did speak several minutes later, it was only to gently murmur, "It will be alright. You may feel like the lowest piece of scum to ever dirty the ocean floor right now, but it will be all right. I promise you." She could still only stare at him, more touched than she could ever express by this unexpected display of tender affection, and this feeling only intensified as he pulled her into a warm embrace. Settling into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder as he gently stroked her hair, Katherine started to think that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't a monster after all.