Prologue

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The most unpleasant aspect of an ambush is rightly considered waiting. If it were only a matter of standing in one place quietly, looking out for a drunken customer, then one could accept being stuck in an alley that reeked of shit and vomit. Alas, it was not so simple. I had to choose the place carefully: not very bright, with several escape routes. Secondly, to be constantly on guard, keeping an eye out for the appearance of local bandits or the excessive number of drunks. The ideal prey was a drunken fisherman with stumbling legs or a local drunk, that is, people who could offer little resistance and whose words would probably be ignored by the people around them. I retreated into the shadows as the three drunken men passed me, then returned to my spot and waited again.

At last, a tempting staggering figure appeared in the distance, and I mentally prayed to the powers that be, asking for help and luck. Someone above must have heard the prayer, for the man, seeing the slender female figure, let out a contented exclamation and moved purposefully in my direction. I mentally rejoiced; not only was he barely able to stand on his feet, but he wore a sailor's suit and did not give the impression of a physically strong man. He was too good a client to pass up. I smiled timidly and leaned back slightly, so that the collar of the dirty cloth dress "accidentally" fell back, revealing a considerable piece of the chest. From the outside, my whole figure radiated defenselessness: he must never suspect a threat.

"Hello, belle, why are you bored alone, on a dark night?" The drunkard yelled from afar. "Maybe you want me to warm you up, you must be cold! Gah, gah, gah!"

I didn't feel cold, but he didn't need to know that. Hunger dominated all my senses, intensifying with each passing moment. I had to hurry.

"Ah, sir, you must be joking with the poor girl. How could I interest such a strong man?"

"Well, you've got something interesting," he pinched my ass with a laugh. "Come on, let's take a walk back to your place, and I'll show you something, ha-ha. How much do you charge for the job, pretty girl?"

"Like everyone else, six coppers at a time, a silver coin a night."

"All right, come on, let's go." Apparently, he couldn't wait.

We entered a narrow alley, walked a couple of dozen steps, and I suddenly stopped near a pile of crates.

"Sir, if you wish, we don't have to go anywhere. I can serve you right here."

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He snarled, pressed me against the wall, and began fumbling between my legs when a short shadow came up behind him and swung the truncheon. There was a thud, and the sailor fell unconscious to the ground. I nodded to Medea:

"Pull him behind the crates, they won't see him there."

Medea helped hurriedly pull the body away. Her eyes glittered feverishly and didn't take their eyes off the prey's body, her fangs showing from her mouth. Her last meal had been three nights ago, and now she could hardly control her instincts, forcing her to dig into the exposed neck so she wouldn't let go until she was fully satiated. She grabbed the man's wrist and hissed furiously when I had to pull her away by her hair:

"Be patient a bit longer, sweetheart. Now you're going to eat."

She wrapped her arms around herself and swayed, not taking her reddened gaze off the hapless lover of girls, as I cut a vein in his arm with a splinter I found and handed it to her.

"Drink."

Medea clung greedily to the wound, sucking the blood while I looked around once more. There was no one there. The sucking sounds subsided and grew longer, my friend's back shuddering less and less until finally, she leaned back with a satisfied rumbling. When Medea turned to me, the madness was gone from her gaze, clear again:

"Thank you, Celeste."

"You're welcome. Are you full now?"

"Yes, at last. Will you?"

Yesterday I managed to catch only a couple of rats, so the madness was less of a problem today than it was with my friend. I could use some sustenance. I checked the fisherman's pulse and nodded: "Yeah."

The blood was still oozing thinly, and I didn't have to widen the wound. When the brackish liquid filled my mouth, I closed my eyes involuntarily in pleasure, the sharp taste of the divine flavor rendering the world irrelevant for a brief moment. Something inside me howled in frustration as I pulled away from the source of the euphoria. No, not anymore.

Fortunately, Medea had not torn the man's arm with her fangs, and the wound looked like it had been accidentally inflicted during a fall. No one would connect her to the ghouls, the consequences would be dismissed as common criminals. We hastily searched the helpless body, took the money and the knife hidden under his shirt, and then ran toward the docks before dawn. We have a few good hideouts in the harbor quarter, just in case, so we can wait out the day there if we have to. But there were no guarantees that people would not find us helpless during the day's sleep.

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