Acquired Taste

   Fucking vampires, Kalvin thought to himself as he maneuvered his aging squad car slowly through the lonely dirt road which cut through the thick backwoods of Morlay County. Although his outward appearance was calm, inside he was seething.

He had told those idiots over and over again that acting like the second coming of the Manson family would get them too much attention from the outside, attention that he as the Morlay County Sheriff wouldn't be able to get rid of. But of course they didn't listen to him. They never listened to him. Why would they? He was the one who had to clean up their messes after these"parties" of theirs. He was the one who had to cover up and keep both State and Federal officials in the dark about the goings-on in this county.

Fucking vampires.

Ever since Roman had taken out Gerard to become the new head of the Family, Kalvin's days had been one headache-filled romp after another. Unlike Gerard, who was calm and smart and actually listened to him, Roman was a mean, egotistical prick with a God complex. Talking to the guy was like talking to brick wall. No matter how many times he had warned the idiot to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, the fucker always did the opposite of what he had said. It was like Roman had no sense of self preservation at all, acting like a vampire rock star and feeding on whoever he wanted.

It made Kalvin's job a hell of a lot harder. When Gerard was in charge, the Family stayed in the abandoned farmhouse near the old Forester mines, taking care to feed only on drifters, illegal immigrants coming up from the border, or the occasional lost traveler who made a wrong turn at the interstate. I.e. people who no one would miss, people whose disappearance the authorities would ignore. Kalvin helped the group cover up their tracks by getting rid of any evidence left behind as well as using his power as county Sheriff to block any official inquiries that might have arisen. In return, Gerard promised him that he would be turned into nosferatu himself, to live forever, young and beautiful for the rest of time.

It seemed like a good deal at the time.

Of course, that was before Roman took control. Before Roman and the Family began killing the residents of nearby towns, and attacking motorists on the highway. The fucker didn't even bother trying to hide things afterwards; in fact he seemed to revel in leaving behind as bloody a scene as he could. Kalvin still felt queasy about what they had done to that family over in Quinton. Neighbors were still finding parts of those children weeks after they had died.

Time and time again Kalvin tried to convince Roman that if he and the other vamps kept going like they were, then eventually the outside world would notice. Roman simply laughed his concerns off, like they didn't matter. The prick was one of those die-hard vampire supremacist assholes. He thought that vampires were the superior species and all regular folk should be treated like cattle. Whatever. Like him and the seven other members of his little coven could stand up to a full Waco-style assault by the Feds, especially if they came knocking during the daytime. You'd think that for someone over two hundred years old he'd be smarter, but obviously Roman was a special kind of stupid.

Fuck, Kalvin cursed again as he continued driving. He turned his eyes to the man sitting in the passenger side of his vehicle, another headache that Roman's bullshit had dropped into his lap.

It had been a typical monday morning, nothing out of the ordinary happening and all the switchboards were as quiet as a graveyard. Kalvin was reading the morning paper, having his usual morning brew that tasted more like black tar than coffee, when a man in a black suit came into the station. He introduced himself as Special Agent Robert Neville, FBI. He then went on to explain that the Bureau had sent him to Morlay County to investigate the numerous mysterious deaths that had been occurring, which surprised the hell out of Kalvin since he thought he had done a pretty good job of keeping a lid on the killings.

As soon as he could get a moment to himself, Kalvin called the farmhouse on his cellphone, hands shaking in panic as he spoke with Roman.

"What the hell are we gonna do?" The Sheriff sputtered into his phone after explaining the situation to the vampire.

Roman didn't seem to share his concern as he heard soft laughter come from the other end of the line. "Don't be such a fraidy cat, Kal. Bring him to us."

Kalvin almost choked in disbelief. "No! No, dammit! You can not kill a fed, that'll bring too much heat down on us!"

"You will do as I say, Food, or I will find you, I will catch you, I will rip your balls off and I will feed them to your mother!" Roman let out a beastial snarl before slamming the receiver down on the other end.

Fuck.

And so that was how Sheriff Kalvin Craigs found himself driving a fucking federal agent through the goddamned woods at night, towards a farmhouse where eight fucking vampires were waiting for their snack. He was almost tempted to just run, to pack up all of his worldly possessions along with his mother, and just leave Morlay County. But he knew he could never do it. Running wasn't an option, he was in too deep. Kalvin knew what Roman and the others were capable of; he had been cleaning up after them for over six years now. But more importantly, he had sacrificed way too much to abandon it now. He'd worked hard to keep up his end of the deal he had made with Gerard, and after tonight he was intent on collecting. He came through for the Family time and time again; it was time for the Family to do the same for him.

"Cats."

The words brought Kalvin out of his dark thoughts. The sheriff looked over to the car's passenger seat and at the source of the voice. Agent Neville had turned on the overhead light so that he could review the (heavily edited) files his department had on the recent killings.

Agent Neville was probably in his late twenties, early thirties, with black hair slicked back smartly. He wore a crisp black suit, along with a pressed white shirt, mirror-polished black shoes, and black tie. A pair of 1950's style horn-rimmed glasses worn over the man's dark brown eyes completed Neville's look. He was the epitome of the stereotypical G-man, and wouldn't look at all out of place on the set of the next Men In Black movie.

"What'd you say?" Kalvin asked.

"Cats," repeated Agent Neville. The younger man continued to sift through the grisly photographs of the killings, looking very much at ease despite their horrific contents. "Did you know cats are one of the few animals that play with their food before killing them?"

"Is that right?" The Sheriff asked, wondering why the hell they were suddenly talking about cats for.

"Indeed. It's all quite interesting." Neville looked up from the grisly photos and smiled. "When I was a kid, we had this cat named Snuggles. Snuggles loved to chase mice, or bugs, or any other smaller creature that was unlucky enough to make their way into our backyard. Snuggles would stalk his prey, follow it around, then leap forwards and catch it in his claws. It was pretty funny to watch."

Neville let out a loud sigh, then turned his eyes back down to the bloody photos in the file. "Of course, what happened next wasn't as funny. He'd take the mouse or bird, or whatever, and pretty much torture it to death. And when I say torture, I mean REAL torture. Like, this was some sadistic, psycho stuff. We're talking Saw-level here. You know, one time I saw that little cat catch a baby squirrel in a tree. After playing around with it a bit, Snuggles just places his paw on that still struggling squirrel, holding it down, right? Then he wraps his mouth around the things head and just... POP! Rips the poor thing's head off."

"Jesus," Kalvin squirmed in his seat.

"Hardcore, right? Heh. Snuggles then starts just batting the head around our front lawn, you know, like he'd do with a cat toy." Neville chuckled. "So yes, cats definitely love to torture their prey. Of course, the cat lovers in the world will try to explain away this messed up shit by saying that there's an actual reason why cats do the things they do. They'll tell you that such behavior is not actually malicious in nature, but actually part of their instinct. They say that though it might look it, cats aren't really playing with their prey, what you're really seeing is how the cat is trying to tire out the prey, to make it exhaust itself so that it can't harm the cat when it starts eating. So you see, it's all a biological instinct that helps prevents cats from getting injured while feeding!

"But. If this truly is the case..."

Neville looked up from the photos and gave Kalvin a disturbing grin. "Then please explain to me why dear old Snuggles, as soon as he got bored playing around with that baby squirrel's head, did he leave that bleeding, juicy meal to rot on our lawn while he went inside to our kitchen and started chowing down on some cheap kibble?"

The Sheriff let out a disturbed bark of laughter. "Th-that's fucked up," he said, turning his eyes away from the agent's creepy smile. "What's that got to do with these murders though?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." Neville shrugged and turned his attention back to the files on his lap. "I just like cats, 'is all."

What a fucking weirdo, Kalvin thought to himself.

After sixteen more minutes of driving around, the sun had gone down far enough that the sheriff felt it was safe to bring Agent Neville to the farm. The fed was quiet as the squad car drove up a short hill towards the long abandoned property, and remained so until they pulled to a stop. Outside the car were two buildings, one a ramshackle barn and the other a dilapidated old farmhouse. The structures looked to have been abandoned for years as the facade was half rotted and there were boards nailed over the windows.

Kalvin knew from his previous visits that the barn was where the younger members of the Family would sleep during the day. The house was where the elders slept. The elders were the oldest of the bunch, all three having lived over a century and thus had more power than their usual vampire ilk.

Said elders were Gerard (when he was alive), Roman, and the creepy silent woman called Salts.

"This is where the most recent killing took place?" Agent Neville asked as he looked towards the house. In the gloom of night, light could be seen shining through the small slats in the boarded up windows.

"Yeah," Kalvin lied as he exited the car. "The boys should be inside, watching the crime scene."

"I see," said the agent as he too left the vehicle. "Where are their cars?"

"I dunno, probably in the back. Come on." He lead the way towards the house, the black suited agent following close behind.

The two climbed the rotting stairs up onto the rickety porch, their footsteps loud upon the old wood in the still, silent night. Kalvin, with some small difficulty, managed to pry open the ancient wooden door and led the agent into the small hallway inside the house. There was a soft glow coming from the far end of the hall. They followed the light through the gloom, which led them to what Kalvin knew was the house's living room. As soon as they reached it, the Sheriff stood aside, motioning for the fed to move into the room first.

Agent Neville stopped in his tracks. Before him was not a crime scene as he expected, but what looked to be a gathering of several very suspicious people. In the old, musty room candles and oil lamps were lit and scattered about haphazardly on the rotting brown floor. Six figures were illuminated in the dim light, each wearing haggard and unwashed clothing. All of them were pale, with bloodshot eyes and hungry looks.

"Friends of yours, Sheriff?" asked Agent Neville.

Kalvin didn't answer, forcing himself to swallow the hard lump that had formed in his throat. His heart began beating hard, sweat beaded wetly on his skin staining the neck of his khaki uniform. He always got like this when he was around them. He was sure any human being did. It was an instinctual reaction, his body recognizing the threat of a lethal predator in front of him that could strike at any moment. It was probably the same reaction a mouse would have when faced with a cat.

The strange conversation in the car sprang up in the back of his mind. Cats are one of the few animals that play with their food before killing them.

Kalvin's eyes narrowed at the agent, who had his back to him. Did he know? About Roman and the others? Was that what that cat bullshit was about in the car? If so, why the hell did Neville let himself be led into the lion’s den like this?

"So," Roman spoke up, a wide smile twisting his smooth, youthful face. "You're the big bad federal-eh we've heard so much about?"

The vampire was seated at the center of a beat up couch that had been pushed against the far wall. Sitting to his right was Richie, a thin, skinny vampire that Kalvin didn't know too much about. To Roman's left was Salts, the other elder. She looked to be a young woman in her late teens with light brown hair wearing a black dress. The Sheriff knew better though; she was the oldest and possibly most powerful vampire in the Family. She didn't like being in charge, though, so she let Gerard (and then Roman) lead.

Two other vampires sat in an adjacent couch by Salts' end. They were known as the Twins, two identical brothers who Gerard told Kalvin were turned by Salts during the turn of the Twentieth century. In other circumstances the two would look utterly ordinary sitting there in t-shirts and jeans, but the grim look on their faces bellied the dark hunger inside them, just waiting to be unleashed.

The last Family member in the room was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. This was Kovach, the brute of the Family. The vampire stood at 6'5" and was heavily muscled. Gerard had told him Kovach was once a circus performer back in the twenties. He had been invited to join the Family after the carnie helped hide them from a group of vampire hunters. Kalvin had probably interacted with Kovach the most out of any other member of the family except Gerard, since the big man was the one who relayed messages from Roman. Kovach always complained whenever Roman sent him though, since the farmhouse had a working telephone and it would have been easier to relay any messages he had through it.

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The youngest members of the Family, Abby and Carl, were absent and most likely still sleeping in the barn. The two were only recently turned (around ten or twenty years ago) and thus needed more sleep than the others. They'd probably wake up at midnight and eat whatever was left of Agent Neville.

"Tell me, Mr. Agent," Roman spoke, leaning back against the couch and crossing his legs. "Are you the only one your agency has sent down here, or can we expect others to show up?"

Neville sighed, putting his hands in his pockets and stood in front of them nonchalantly. "Sorry, but you'll have to make do with me. Nobody else is coming."

Roman broke out into laughter, quickly followed by the rest of the family. Well, except for Salts. She just sat there staring into nothing, like usual.

"See, Kal? You were worried over nothing," Roman said to the sheriff after his giggling fit. "This fuckhead came here alone."

"He's a fed, more will come," Kalvin stated, somewhat annoyed that Roman wasn't treating the situation more seriously.

"Um, actually, about that." The agent looked back at the sheriff and gave him an apologetic grin. "I probably should apologize, Sheriff. You see, I kinda lied. I'm actually not really with the FBI, or any other government agency. My badge and name are all false."

Kalvin frowned while the members of the Family laughed even louder. Even Salts broke out in a soft giggle.

"Well who the FUCK are you then?!" Kalvin shouted. His patience was well passed gone. Not only was Roman and the vampires not taking this situation seriously, but the so-called special agent wasn't either? Who was he? Was he a reporter, or just some nut?

"Calm down, Kal. Calm down." Roman spoke, and immediately all laughter in the room stopped. He stood up from the couch and slowly began crossing the room, stalking towards the stranger in the suit and glasses who had managed to find himself trapped within their midst.

When the elder was less than a foot away from the fake FBI agent he stopped, his smile vanishing as his face twisted into a vicious snarl.

"You are dumb, stupid idiot. I don't care who the fuck you are, you know why?" Roman's pristine white teeth vanished, being replaced by rows of razor-sharp fangs. "Because in the end, it doesn't matter. In the end, you're nothing but food. We are going to eat you. Piece. By. Piece." Drool dripped from Roman's fangs, dropping off his lips to fall onto the dirty wooden floor. "Since you wasted our time, you won't get off easily. We're going to keep you alive for a long, LONG time. As long as your weak, pitiful mortal flesh can take, as we have our fun and games."

The other members of the Family hissed in unison, as they revealed their fangs in the dim light of the candles.

Kalvin was shocked when Neville (or whatever the hell his name was) suddenly broke out laughing. Roman looked just as shocked as the human in front of him continued to laugh, as if he found the situation incredibly humorous.

"This guy really is crazy," the Sheriff muttered.

"What are you laughing at!" Roman shouted, absolutely livid that this prey had the audacity to laugh at him.

Neville gave the angry vampire in front of him a small smile, the type of annoying smile you got as a kid whenever some adult was humoring you. "You. You're funny."

The fake FBI agent chuckled before continuing. "I think it's adorable that you're trying to be intimidating." He shook his head, still smiling, still casually standing there with his hands in his pockets. "Sorry, pal. But it's the 21st Century! I've seen Alien, Poltergeist, The Omen, Blair Witch, The Last Airbender. Now those were terrifying. I'm sure this schtick of yours worked when powdered wigs and fucking dwarves was still in fashion, but if you wanna be really scary, well, you're gonna have to try harder."

Roman didn't bother to retort, his fury unbridled, choosing instead to lunge at the man with fangs ready to shred his neck.

He never got the chance though as Neville pulled something out of his pocket (Kalvin saw that it was a small jar with a clear liquid inside) and smashed it against the charging vampire's face. An ear-splitting inhuman shriek pierced the stuffy air inside the room as Roman began stumbling away, smoke slowly wafting up from his face where the bottle had smashed. The elder fell to the floor, rolling around in agony as he continued to scream in pain.

The man in the black suit reached into his jacket and drew a large revolver from a shoulder holster, then aimed it at Salts. Kalvin was paralyzed, unable to move as he saw events transpire. Somehow, someway, this guy was able to figure out that Salts was the most dangerous threat in the room. How?

The female vampire merely leveled an unamused gaze at the man, obviously not finding his gun to be any kind of threat. And she'd be right; Kalvin had seen one of the twins get shot twice in the face and it didn't even phase him. And Salts was much, much stronger than both twins combined.

The eldest of the Family's elders slowly rose from her seat as she stared down the fake agent aiming a gun at her. The vampire's eyes began glowing an unholy red, and the air grew noticeably colder. Salts hissed, getting ready to attack.

Then Neville pulled the trigger and the dimly lit room was suddenly engulfed in white. Kalvin flinched and staggered back as he saw a streak of visible light erupt from the gun's barrel and shoot directly into Salts' chest.

Tracers! Kalvin cursed. This son of a bitch has tracer rounds!

Vampires, as a lot of the movie-going public knows, have many weaknesses. Sunlight. Stake (or anything remotely sharp and large enough) through the heart. Religious symbols. Holy water. Decapitation.

Fire.

That last one was definitely the thing that did Salts in, as vampires are notoriously combustible. As soon as the tracer round hit, its incendiary ignited the vampire unholy blood, and Salts suddenly found herself bursting into flame. Kalvin watched dumb-struck as the ancient vampire screamed in monstrous agony as she flailed about in pain, levitating slightly off the floor as fire quickly engulfed her entire body.

An enraged Richie quickly launched himself off the couch towards Neville, claws and fangs extended outwards as he sailed swiftly through the air. He made for an easy target as Neville turned, revolver still extended, and fired a tracer round into Richie's neck.

The results were the same as with Salts, and soon Richie was on the floor screaming in terror as he writhed around, body completely on fire.

Neville then turned to the twins, still seated on the couch, with his finger already squeezing the trigger. One of the twins shot up to his feet, quickly interspersing himself the gun and his brother hoping to spare him from the bullet. Unfortunately, this one act of selflessness and sibling love proved to be the twins' undoing. The tracer round shot into the standing brothers chest, causing him to explode into flame. His fire-engulfed body then collapsed on top of his brother, causing him to alight as well.

All that had happened in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Kalvin suddenly found himself able to move again, and realized that he had somehow fallen on his back and was now lying on the floor. The sheriff cursed and quickly made to draw his own gun. His shaking hands fought against the latch at his holster, a movement which drew Neville's attention.

The fake FBI agent turned around and quickly spotted Kalvin. He smiled, then aimed his gun at the prone Sheriff. "You shouldn't lay down with dogs. The fleas are a bitch."

Kalvin stared up in horror, at the dark eyes behind the horn-rimmed glasses. He saw death in those eyes. His and the Family's.

Before Neville could pull the trigger, Kovach slammed into him, the big brute wrapping his arms around the smaller man and crashing both of them against the wall. The ancient plaster and wood cracked under the impact, but neither man nor vampire seemed phased. Neville proved himself to be stronger than he looked though as he somehow managed to break out of the big vampire's grasp and began a mighty struggle with the giant. Their thrashings eventually led them to the boarded up window where Kovach swiftly hefted up the black suited man lunged, causing both to crash through the boards and fall out the window into the dark night outside.

Kalvin sat up, his face dripping, saturated with sweat. He could still hear Kovach and Neville struggling outside, but it was inside the house that caught most of his attention. The entire living room was in flames, the old broken furniture and brown-stained wallpaper set alight by the burning vampire corpses. He saw dark forms Richie and the twins laying still laying still among the flames. What was worse though was that he could still hear Salts screaming loudly within the fire. He could see her small body writhing on the ceiling completely engulfed in flames.

Kalvin began choking from the thick smoke. He forced himself down against the floor, his lungs coughing up something wet into his mouth. He began to crawl along the floor in the direction he thought the door outside was, but there was so much black smoke that he couldn't tell which way the exit lay. Before he could pass out from smoke inhalation he felt two strong arms lift him up to his feet and drag him outside the burning house.

The sheriff was carelessly tossed onto the hard ground outside, whereupon the soot-covered man began coughing and spitting, trying to catch his breath.

"Get up," a gurgling voice snarled at him. He looked up, blinking his tearing eyes clear, to see Roman standing above him. The vampire's face was half-melted off from whatever was in that jar, but aside from that he didn't seem injured. "I said GET UP!"

The elder vampire hauled Kalvin to his feet. "Find him!" Roman shouted, and the sheriff almost gagged at the burned leather smell that wafted from the vampire's wounds. "Find that fucker and kill him! Kill him!"

Kalvin nodded and drew his gun. He followed the limping Roman as they traversed the area around the burning farm house, making their way towards the side of the building where Kovach and Neville fell. As they turned the corner, the sheriff heard Roman curse. At the foot of the broken window lay Kovach's body, a sharp shard of wood embedded in his chest.

"Fuck," cursed Kalvin as he looked around for any sign of Neville. "Who the hell is this guy?"

"He's a dead man, that's what he is!" spat Roman. His eyes suddenly widened in fear. "The barn! He's after Abby and Carl!" The panicked vampire broke into an inhuman sprint, rushing towards the dark form of the barn.

"Roman! Wait up!" Shouted Kalvin as he tried to run after him, but the vampire proved too fast. "Damn it!" The Sheriff continued to follow, albeit in a much slower pace.

Kalvin stopped about twenty feet from the barn to lean against a tree and catch his breath. His throat was dry as sand and his lungs felt filled with soot. He was getting too old for this.

He looked towards his squad car, which was parked only ten feet away from his position. He could get out of here now, leave, and fuck Roman and his kin. It was the smart thing to do. But that would mean saying goodbye to immortality, to eternal youth. Roman would definitely make him a vampire now that most of the Family was dead. It might be worth it to-

A sharp, fierce pain stopped his internal debate. He looked behind him and saw Neville standing there with a blank expression on his face. Kalvin looked down and saw the fake agent's hand holding a large combat knife, which was currently embedded in his left side.

"W-wait, Neville..."

He never got a chance to say what he wanted as the man forcefully, cruelly, twisted the knife, causing him to gasp and twitch in agony. The blade was then forced up and to the right, slicing open his uniform shirt, flesh, and innards. The shocked Kalvin looked down and saw his intestines spilling out from the gaping hole in his belly. Mercifully, it was at that moment that he blacked out from the pain.

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Consciousness came slowly, and unwanted. In the deep dark blackness everything was quiet. It was cold. Safe. As Kalvin began to wake, as he floated out of that blissful blackness, the quiet was broken. The cold was broken. Safety didn't exist. It all started with sound, soft at first, then loud. Someone was...

Someone was screaming. Then Kalvin felt the heat; it was close, almost singing his skin. Then he felt pain, worse than any he had ever felt in his life, at his stomach. He tried to scream, but his voice was gone. Instead he opened his eyes, and saw Hell.

He had been seated against a tree stump, seated so that he was sitting up and could see the barn. It was on fire now, like the farmhouse before. Right in front of the barn and directly in front of him was Roman and Neville. Roman was the one who was screaming. That's weird. Didn't Roman scream before, too? Oh yeah, he screamed before when that fake FBI agent slammed the jar of acid or whatever into his face. But this scream was different. This screaming was much worse now. This time Roman's voice sounded distinctly, unmistakably human.

Roman had been crucified, his hands nailed by the wrists and forearms to a rusted tractor's side. He had been stripped naked, his pale body completely white except for the numerous spots of scarlet where Neville had begun... working on him.

The vampire had both legs missing, chopped off at the knees. Strips of skin were missing on his thighs, belly, and chest, leaving the red muscles and blue veins exposed to the night air. The man who called himself Robert Neville stood next to him, still wearing his stupid black suit and glasses, though the former was now stained in numerous places with thick, red blood.

As Kalvin watched, Neville used his combat knife, the same one that had gutted him, to carve off another strip of skin and flesh from Roman's arm. The vampire screamed and screamed, his eyes wild in its agony, each dripping crystal clear tears for what may possibly be the first time in centuries. The sheriff watched in horror as that strip of flesh was then tossed onto an old barbeque grill where the blood and oils began to sizzle from the hot coals underneath. Kalvin saw other strips of what he assumed to be Roman cooking on the grill as well.

"Oh, you're awake."

Kalvin looked up from the ghastly sight on the grill to see Neville smiling at him. With all the strength he had left to muster, Kalvin forced out three words from his dry, parched lips.

"What... are... you..."

"Huh, me?" Neville plucked up a piece of roasted vampire meat from the grill, then began munching on it. "I'm just a guy, nobody special. If you're asking what species I am, well, I'm as human as you are."

No fucking way. This son of a bitch was a monster. Worse than Roman. Worse than the Family.

Kalvin shook his head, then gasped as the even the slightest of movements caused a lance of pain to shoot throughout his body.

"Oh yes, I assure you that I am most definitely human." Neville popped the piece of meat into his mouth and began chewing. "Mmm. So juicy. You know, I've eaten a lot of things in my time: Werewolves, zombies, demons. Even got to eat an alien once. But you can't beat the flavor of an elder vampire." The fake FBI agent licked his lips with gusto. "Yum. Sheriff, imagine the finest, most succulent steak you've ever eaten. Then multiply that by a thousand! That is what vampire meat tastes like. An unimaginable flavor that will leave any gourmand breathless. Absolutely exquisite."

The madman suddenly looked up from the grill and met Kalvin's eyes. "You want some?"

He had wanted to shout "FUCK YOU!" at the psychopath, but all that came out of his mouth was a gurgle of blood.

"Hmm, guess not. It's an acquired taste." Neville shrugged, turning his attention back onto the grill. The fake agent began turning the meat on its other side. After being satisfied that the meat was going to be evenly cooked, Neville turned his attention back to Roman. The vampire had stopped screaming for the moment and was now breathing heavily, his mouth gasping for every breath as if it were his last.

"Now then, Roman, was it?" Neville approached the crucified vampire, making sure to pick up his knife from where he left it.

"No, no, no..." Roman gasped out, his breath hoarse with screaming.

"You know what the best part about vampires is?" Neville chuckled then remained silent, as if waiting for an answer. "No? Well, let me tell you." He began carving another strip of flesh off, causing the vampire to let out another agonized scream.

"Vampires heal from nearly any wound. Lose an arm, they grow back in a few weeks. Loose some flesh? Back in a couple of hours. The UN could probably end world hunger if they just started vampire farms." Neville continued cutting while Roman continued screaming. "Yes sir. You're gonna last me a long, long time."

As his blood seeped out of his body to pool upon the dirt around him, Kalvin watched as the man who called himself Neville continued to carve up the vampire like a choice piece of beef. As the life slowly began to fade from him, Kalvin realized something. Cats. When Neville spoke about cats earlier, he had mistakenly thought that it was some type of weird allegory about vampires. About how they played with their food.

But no. Neville was talking about himself.

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Author’s note: This story was inspired by this writing prompt: “You hunt monsters. Not because you want to save people or get revenge. You just like how they taste.”