A rush of warm blood seeped into his mouth, and he slowly felt his faculty returning to him. Harry barely noticed his own hands held her wrist to his mouth, even less that the mysterious woman's hold on him had loosened. Had he noticed, the jar of hitting the ground as hard as he did might not have come as such a surprise. As it was, Harry groaned and writhed his aching body across the concrete, to stunned by has fall to care about anything except the fire that flew through his body. He convulsed with pain, clutching at his chest to relieve it, but the fire refused to be extinguised by his desperate homeopathic means. Harry wept, he shireked, he clawed, he writhed; every action was futile, but he could do no less and had not the capacity to do any more. Cool, feminine hands touched either side of his face, drawing him flat against the ground. The smell of roses filled his senses again, and he looked up into the eyes of this strangely beautiful woman.
For the first time he saw twin fangs in the corners of her smile.
By the time she had cleaned him and clothed him, dawn was fast approaching. Harry's vampiress took him by the hand and led him down a back alley to crouch behind a dumpster. She said nothing in response to Harry's questioning glare, rather indicated the people barely visible around the corner of their hideout. His vampiric eyes allowed Harry to see the man cornering his young prey against the wall in asounding clarity; he admired the glint of moolight that grazed the man's jawline, and how the moonlight and streetlight combined to accentuate the brightness of the woman's eyes and the natural blond-esque highlights of her dark hair. The folds of clothing playing in the weak light, how the touch of each person slid across the other- Harry could easily spend hours sitting there admiring the new sight afforded him, and vary well might have, had his vampiress not clutched his soulder and whispered the first words to him since first taking him from the bridge: "Feed, my fledgeling..."
At once the light altered once again, and some of Harry's sense returned to him. He was a broken man, but a man nonetheless, and would not- would not? he could not- kill another of his kind. It still escaped him what strange magic this vampire had performed on him; why she had not killed him, and why his pain had not seemed to be caused he her were mysteries to Harry still. Yet she had told him to feed.
And named him her fledgeling...
"Feed, my fledgeling..."
Harry turned to this creature with a new horror in his eyes, and what he saw only built upon his fear: Her eyes had gone bright, but not bright like the tear-filled eyes of the woman, bright with excitement, bright like an animal ready for the kill. Harry tried to scramble up, but she still had him by the shoulder, and when she decided that they would advance upon the pair, none of his protests could deter her. The man had heard them, and when he turned to confront the interlopers, the vampiress shoved Harry at him.
Vampiric instinct took over.
Once the blood flooded into his mouth and Harry felt the warm, velvet liquid wash over his tongue and into his aching body, he lapsed into a state of calm, of staisfied pleasure. Despite all his previous high minded thoughts about the killing of men, Harry loved the feeling, and when it began to ebb, he deepend his kiss, eager to regain it. As the rhythym of the flow slowed, he felt a tug at the back of his head. When it slowed even more, the tugging became more insistent. The rhythym be damned! But when it had nearly stopped, his head was ripped from its cradle and the corpse crashed to the ground, greeted by the petrified shriek of its former companion.
"You must stop before the beating stops," she said. "Or you will drink the death with it, and nothing can revive you then." She glanced down to the body, and saw the blood spattered on his neck and stained upon his shirt. "One more thing," she whispered in his ear "drink neatly, please." She released him, and picked her way carefully to the girl, who seemed completely entranced by the elegant vampiress, and not in the least concerned that her death rode on the bloofer lady's shoulders. They entered into a passtionate embrace, which broke but minutes later when the life had flown from the girl's eyes, and the vampiress turned to show Harry the wound. "You see? Neat. No blood."