Chapter Five:
The moment the song ended, Vlad excused himself and hastily made his way from the gallery. Outside, in the cool evening air, he took deep gasps of breath that he didn't technically need. A remnant of his days as a human, the motion did help calm him – though it did nothing to slow the burn of hunger igniting his veins.
This was a terrible mistake, he thought. Why would Alec do this to him? Why would he put Theresa in Vlad's path without warning? Alec had to have known the effect it would have on Vlad…
Of course he did.
Why would Alec do something that would intentionally bring Vlad pain? What a stupid question. Bringing Vlad pain was Alec's favourite pastime. He'd been perfecting his methods for hundreds of years; it would be a shame to waste them when such an easy opportunity presented itself.
Vlad had no one to blame but himself. He could have listened to his father, who had warned him to feed before returning to the monastery the night he became a vampire. Or, he could have just killed Alec when he came to his senses and found himself holding the half-dead abbot. He definitely should not have panicked and begged his father to save Alec.
A mistake Vlad had spent the last six hundred years paying for.
But this… this went too far. Vlad felt more than capable of doing what he'd failed to do all those years ago. With his bare hands.
Alec!
He sent the probing thought into the night and quickly received a distracted, Busy! in return. Choking down a growl of frustration, Vlad went in search of his tormentor. He found Alec on his knees in a storage closet.
Alec's companion – What had Theresa called him? – started when Vlad threw open the door.
"Oh, for the love of-" Vlad looked away as Timothy rushed to tug up his slacks.
Pulling out a black handkerchief from his pocket, Alec dabbed daintily at the trickle of blood on his chin. "I did tell you that I was busy," he said with an unapologetic smile.
Vlad stepped aside so a very flustered Timothy could pass. The long-haired man was dishevelled and red-cheeked.
"I'll be in touch!" Alec called after Timothy as he hurried away.
Alec stood, folded the handkerchief, and returned it to his pocket. "Now," he said, "what can I do for you?"
"You've done quite enough," Vlad snapped. "What's the meaning of bringing me here?"
Alec's brows drew together in a look of mock confusion. "I would have thought that was obvious," he replied. "Unless you've grown tired of waiting for your little wi-"
He didn't get to finish the sentence. Vlad grabbed Alec by the throat and slammed him into the shelf behind. Several jugs of some chemical were knocked to the floor as his body crashed into the metal racks. One burst open and glugged its contents onto Vlad's shoes. He didn't notice.
"No jokes," he snarled. "No games. Not this time."
Alec jerked free of Vlad's hold. He caught himself before he hit the floor and pulled himself upright. Straightening his shirtfront, Alec gave Vlad a hurt look. Vlad didn't buy it. Too much time in his company had proven that Alec didn't have feelings to hurt.
"I thought you would be happy to see Theresa again," Alec said. "It's been so long since her last reincarnation, I was starting to think she wouldn't-"
Vlad turned and walked away. He clamped a lid down on that thought. Hard. His emotions were already too raw to dreg up the many times he'd failed to find Theresa before it was too late. Happy? Was happiness one of those emotions?
He'd thought so – until Theresa had hesitantly laid her head on his chest as they danced. The hair had fallen away from her neck and Vlad had been mesmerized by the vein that pulsed there, beneath the flawless skin. His gums had ached with the effort to keep his fangs from sliding out. If the song hadn't ended when it did…
His gums ached now, as a matter of fact. Just thinking about Theresa made hunger pound through him. Vlad needed to feed – and quickly. Before he convinced himself that it was a good idea to go back into the gallery, sweep Theresa up in his arms, and-
"Let's go," he rasped, heading for the exit.
Alec gave Vlad a curious look but followed. "Where to, my friend?"
Vlad ground his teeth together. Friend was not a word he would have used.
"To hunt," he said. "Then away. Far away."
Walking out into the night, Vlad left the gallery – and Theresa – behind. For good.
Or so he thought.