Number fourteen: Rain.
Pairing: None.
Disclaimer: See chapter one.
...
Rain lashed down, pounding against the buildings and the road, against the cars and the trees, against the Vampaneze and his victim.
Murlough held the woman up off of the ground by her neck, his mouth latched onto a large wound on her throat. She had stopped screaming and struggling only moments ago, and Murlough missed that: he liked it when they put up a fight. The few drops of blood that managed to escape from his mouth were washed away instantly by the cold rain, wiping the alleyway – the crime-scene – clean of any evidence. Not that Murlough cared if he left behind any evidence. He was too crazed to care anymore. Too lost in his own insanity.
The woman suddenly let out a whispery gasp, and fell limp against her murderer. Murlough pulled back with a snarl: he had drained her too quickly. There was nothing left. Not one single drop of sweet, sweet blood.
Yet he wanted more.
Needed more.
He let the woman fall onto the ground, her limp, lifeless body flopping down into a crumpled heap. Murlough regarded his work with a mix of disdain and pleasure. He hated that there was no more blood left, but was happy that he had least gotten some of the addictive liquid.
On his way out of the alleyway, Murlough kicked the woman hard in the head, for no reason whatsoever. No more blood spilled. It was just for fun.
The Vampaneze walked calmly through the rain, soaked to the skin. The rain felt cold against his purple skin, and in the back of his mind he regretted leaving his shirt flung on the floor next to the dead woman. Too late to turn back now though: across the street he had just spotted his next victim – another young woman, as scantly dressed as the last, as gullible as the last.
Murlough crossed the road and advanced on the woman, who seemed just as eager to meet him. From under her umbrella, she shouted, "You lookin' for a good time?" Murlough caught her wink suggestively and he grinned wickedly.
Without saying anything, he pushed her roughly against a wall, and it was only as his mouth locked onto hers and his hands travelled over her did she notice that he had purple skin. And crimson hair. And as he pulled away from her slightly and looked her in the eye, she screamed. Murlough's red eyes flashed with delight, and he dragged her down another alleyway to claim another victim and to partially quench his never-ending thirst.
The rain still lashed down.