Everything was tinted red again. A dense fog surrounded David. He wandered aimlessly for what seemed like hours, searching for something. That hungry pang had returned to his gut, and he let the feeling lead him blindly through the red clouds. He heard footsteps coming from behind him. He could not hear his own footsteps, but these were becoming more and more clear. The fog swirled into a pitch black nothing, leaving him with nothing but the ever-pounding footsteps behind him, knocking against the non-existent ground.

Pounding… knocking…

Knocking…

There was a strong surge of pounding on the door to the storeroom, and David woke with a start. "Are you in there? The door's locked!" Sylvia's voice called bluntly through the wood door. "We've got customers! We could use you on the register."

David sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hangover had not subsided. Climbing to his feet, he made his way to the door and tried his best to look awake. "I'm on my way," he replied through the door, though it took him another moment to reach it as he tried to steady himself on the shelves. It must be at least four o'clock by now, he thought.

Opening the door was like finding the sun sitting calmly in the hallway. David's vision was so brilliantly flooded with daylight that he hissed in pain as he shielded his burning eyes. A thin shadow appeared in the white blur he was trying to focus, and Sylvia's voice hit his ears. "Sir? We need you at the till. We've finally got some customers." David's vision cleared enough to see Sylvia's sheepish face before it disappeared through the doorway to the front of the store.

David did his best to pull himself together, to look at least presentable to the people in the store. Standing up straighter, he smoothed back his loose strands of hair and straightened the front of his shirt. With a deep breath and a few steps forward, he reached the doorway to the store and discovered that Sylvia was not entirely specific about how many was included in the phrase "some customers."

The bookstore was fairly well packed. There were four women chatting by the counter, each holding a few novels in her arms. Jonathan was talking to a gaunt man in glasses near the end of one of the far stacks. Sylvia had an armload of books and she was dodging between shelves, handing different genres off to various people. With a quick scan of the store David guessed that there were easily fifteen people in the store, and two more walking in. Sunlight danced off the glass pane on the door as David looked at precisely the wrong time. He winced and turned his burning eyes back to the counter. Seeing the four women now gazing intently – almost questioningly – on him, he quickly turned the wince into an awkward smile. An action he later decided wasn't an entirely bright idea, as the women's expressions twitched nervously.

Nearly simultaneously, all five find their natural smiles and David finds the nerve to take his place at the till. He made small talk with each of the women as they paid for their books, and waved them out the door. David was ready to return to his quiet, dark room in the back when he found a man waiting at the till, with a book in hand.

Then another man… and another… three more…

"Oh God," David muttered to himself in a ten-second spot between customers. "I'm in Hell."

-

The day went by agonizingly slowly, and only seemed to get worse as evening approached and the sun, in all its westward glory, shown its brilliant face directly into the storefront windows. At precisely seven o'clock, David tossed his key to Jonathan and told him to lock the front door. Jonathan did so, and placed the 'CLOSED' sign in the window near the door. David sighed and slumped down behind the counter. Only an hour left till dark.

Sylvia leaned over the counter to see David heaped against the wall, rubbing his eyes. "Err, is there anything you want us to do before we leave, sir?"

David slowly looked up at her. She thought she saw a glint of red in that stare and startled. He continued to stare at her, but the look was only one of exhaustion and irritation. "Right," she said. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." The sounds of Jonathan unlocking the door and placing the key on the front table was shortly followed by the two workers walking outside, and finally a faint click of the door closing once again.

David hardly moved for the next hour, slipping in and out of consciousness as he waited for darkness to fall. His lack of sleep must have been catching up to him; he felt the ephemeral strength of a second wind coming on when the sky started to fade into its cool blue. He took this as a sign to clean up the store before Max came. He peered over the counter to glance through the stacks. The place wasn't a complete mess, but there was work to do. He assessed the workload and walked to the front to retrieve his key before committing to the task ahead.

-

Max awoke and fell gracefully to the carpeted floor below. Stretching, he let out a let out a large, sharp yawn and headed to the stairs. Perusing the paper followed a quick shower and a trip to the walk in closet. Owning a business, he needed to know how the Herd's economy was fairing for once. Nothing too bad, but something told him that the store would have its hard times sooner or later. Probably in the next 25 years or so, he figured. The sound of the beach faintly tickled his ears. The beachfront property he inherited was really quite posh, though it needed help. His sire did not exactly an eye for style. Easily remedied, once I've got the resources to do something about it.

He checked his pocket watch and set out for the store. It was quite the walking distance, for a mortal. He reached the front gate of his property and launched himself upward, soaring above the ocean as its waves lapped the shores.

He landed about a block from the store and walked the remainder of the distance. There were few people still out after the street lamps had been lit. Mostly it was other storeowners, locking up their shops and heading home. Two scraggly men stepped out of a particular shadowy alley that lay just between Max and the bookstore. Over confident, each casually brandishing a small knife, and looking directly at Max. The one on the left looked him up and down quickly and croaked out "Nice suit."

"Thank you sir," Max replied with a smile. He glanced at the dark alley, listening for more men. Just the two? Surely you jest. He rolled his eyes upward as he thought this.

"He's bein' smart with you," the man on the right said to his accomplice. "I say we find out wut he's got in all the pockets in that suit."

"Sir, I do not think you possess the right to do so without my consent, nor the ability." Max was now surveying the area around them for bystanders and innocents. No one for blocks.

The two men started walking toward him, each spreading out to a side. Max looked at the man to his left and flashed a toothy grin. Just enough to make the man double take and stutter in his step, and give Max an edge. He flicked his right wrist at the other man and he was suddenly surrounded by a wisp of thick, black shadows that seemed to slither out of the alleyway. As the shadows surrounded the man, Max rushed at the first. His face contorted and his hands sprouted large talon-like nails. Fangs bared, he slashed at the man before he could raise his knife in a pitiful attempt at defense. Three red lines appeared on the man's face, lacerating his left eye and sending a rain of blood to the ground. The man had an instant to scream before his mouth was smothered by Max's large hand. He felt his feet leave the ground as was lifted by the face into the air.

The second man was struggling to keep himself dry as the urge to piss himself became overwhelming. He yelled, but the sound was muffled. Everywhere he turned was in total darkness. The atmosphere seemed too thick around him, making it difficult to move. Panic swept over his mind, sweat beading on his brow and his eyes growing wide as he started gasping for air. Then it was gone. The shadows disappeared, receding back into the alleyway. He was alone. His cohort had disappeared, as well as the man they had assumed would be their victim. It was still deathly silent though. The sound of the waves had returned, the lights from the lampposts, but above all was his own ragged breath.

And then a light thud came from behind him. He turned quickly to see something on the ground, half covered in the darkness seeping from the alley. He recognized a leg, in the brown trousers of his companion. He crept closer and bent down, nudging the lifeless body on the shoulder. Nothing; no movement, no breath. His fingers were wet. He pulled his hand back into the lamplight and found it painted red. His breathing became panicked again and he pushed the body over onto its back. He could hardly distinguish the face. Four large slashes took out the majority of the flesh, and there were what looked like… puncture marks on the side of his bald head.

The sound of wings overhead pulled his eyes away from the grotesque scene. Wings? Something above him was moving. Somehow, instinctively, he knew it sounded like wings. His eyes kept searching the dark sky between the two buildings, but nothing appeared. The sound swept behind him and he spun, still squatting, and lost his balance. Landing hard on his side he let out a yelp and dropped his knife. Another sound above forced him to look up, just in time to see the horrid face of his predator bearing down upon him from above. His screams were muffled as Max sank his sharp fangs into the man's neck and pinned him down, his large hands on the man's face and chest. Darkness once again fell over the man.