"Shhh Shh Shh shh…."
Vlad swallowed the useless sentiments he wanted to whisper to the teen curled up on the bed, instead resorting to equally useless nonsense noises. He just wanted some way to give a bit of comfort, but even the lightest touch was swatted away. It was work enough to get him to this house.
Daniel squirmed, the arms around his midsection shifting and curling tighter. His face was locked in a grimaced expression - had been for days. Yet despite the awful hunger he knew was chewing up the boy's gut, he still refused to transform and give in.
"Please, child, you need to eat."
Daniel couldn't even muster the energy to glare at him, foregoing any attempt at vocally complaining and simply hunching his shoulders in sullen silence.
"It's what ghosts do. It's how we survive."
Daniel brought his shoulders a bit higher up, turning his face into the soft white pillow. It was nothing he hadn't already said a dozen times before. Vlad wished once again that he could simply force the ectoplasm down the boy's throat, but their human forms were still vulnerable to the corrosive substance. Until he transformed, there was no relieving this. And while Vlad had found ways to force the transformation to his base human form, he'd yet to force the shift the other way. Until Daniel volunteered to change back and consume…. well, he was a rather stubborn boy.
"The doctor will be here soon, with some food. Will you eat it? It's just… just human food."
The words felt strange in his mouth, even now. It was unlike him, to show such gentle comfort, but the worry gnawing at his own heart, and the pitiful noises Daniel made when his core stabbed its starving tendrils deeper throughout his body, searching for the last stores of ectoplasm in every cell. Stars above, he wished he could just inject it directly. Even just to alleviate the torment he had never been strong enough to resist. Never wanted to resist. Even the beginning of this deep hunger was hellish - he didn't want to know what Daniel felt, with furious starvation roaring through every cell.
"Please sit up for me."
He did, at least, respond to the doctor's order.
Vlad watched with hawklike eyes as steady hands placed an ornate breakfast tray over Daniel's lap, pulling back a silver hood to reveal mashed potatoes, some sort of shredded meat curled between petals of carmelized onions, and thin strips of steak still pink and steaming in the middle.
The young halfa prodded listlessly at the food, as expected. His human stomach wasn't bothered by this - it wasn't a lack of food, it was a lack of a specific sustenance. Vlad was just thankful the boy's parents accepted his offer of an expensive private doctor.
With a bit of prodding, the boy went through the motions of taking bites of his food, mechanically chewing potatoes and meaty onions with little interest.
But then…
Danny's eyes widened, lips still caught on the tines of his fork, a bite of steak in his mouth. He bit down, paused, and Vlad straightened up as his pupil narrowed to a fine slit, acid green flooding the iris.
His next movements were quick and efficient, and Daniel wolfed down the rest of the steak, a soft, desperate moan on the edge of every breath. He tested the edges of anything that touched it, and staring greedily at the juices like he wanted to lick them up despite polite company.
What on earth…?
Vlad turned, but his doctor had already walked from the room.
When he faced Daniel again, the boy was pushing the potatoes through fatty juices with a determined glint, eyes still green. He didn't look on death's row anymore, and awe bloomed in his own heart when he realized the prickly edges of pain had relaxed from the boy's face.
The doctor returned a moment later, and didn't seem bothered when Daniel delightedly accepted a plate piled with carefully sliced steak, leaving the vegetables and shredded meat to cool to the side.
He risked being stabbed with a fork to snag a piece of the meat from the edge of the plate, holding it delicately between his fingers as he watched his unwilling charge stuff his face gracelessly.
With a sideways glance at the man standing beside his chair, Vlad licked it.
Of course, there was the taste of fatty meat - Lamb, probably, or pork. Delicate seasonings perfectly complimented the rich flavor, and he would have been more impressed if it wasn't for the underlying… sense. It wasn't exactly a smell, or a taste, but a throaty satisfaction that purred across his tongue and down through his core. It took a moment, before realization bloomed.
Dr. Lecter offered him a raised eyebrow, the quirk of the corner of his lip looking more amused than he had any right to be. Vlad gave him an affronted stare in return, pointedly folding the piece of meat into a napkin instead of eating it.
He really ought to ask the question. The meat had to be incredibly fresh, for bits of a soul to still be clinging to it. Still clean, still untainted by the lingering rage of a vengeful spirit. Still years before it could age into true corrosive ectoplasm.
No, nevermind. He didn't want to know.
It was taking the edge off Daniel's pain, and that was enough.
The boy was slowing down, and from the small grimaces and unhappy shifting, his human stomach was becoming too full to continue, despite the continuing craving of his core. A quick glance and small toss of his head, and the good doctor took his cue to step out of the room.
"What is this?" The boy (finally) asked, still taking hopeful nibbles, sucking the juices out of a piece and looking more alert and alive than he had for the last three days.
Vlad swallowed, gripping his napkin a bit tighter. There was no way Daniel would - No, he couldn't tell the truth.
"Lamb." He said simply, exhaling his exhaustion and adding "Freshly slaughtered. Doctor Lecter is an incredible cook."
Two truths and a lie.
Daniel looked a bit green around the edges, probably contemplating 'Freshly slaughtered' and weighing it against the incredible feeling it was giving his core. Like the first gulp of water after waking up dehydrated, or sliding into a warm tub on a cold winter's night. Pure satisfaction.
From the way he kept nibbling and giving soft, pleased hums at the taste, the latter was probably winning. His eyes had even relaxed back to mostly-blue, pupil looking almost human again.
No, Vlad couldn't tell him.
If the boy nearly killed himself to avoid eating the corrupted spirits of the long-dead…. Well, it wouldn't be 'nearly' anymore, if he found out the kind of meat Doctor Lecter preferred.
Vlad closed his eyes, listening to the whispers of spirits still swirling uneasily in the basement of this house - trying hopelessly to confess their killer's crimes.
A few of them were even starting to corrupt into vengeful ghosts, and his own claws would be able to touch them, soon. It was almost sad, being killed for food, and being food even in the afterlife.
He wondered what kind of monster Daniel would become, if he ever decided to hunt his own prey