Any good hunter will tell you that the chase is a difficult, yet rewarding process. The best places to find prey are always the clubs, bars, really anywhere with lonely people and alcohol. The trick, of course is...well there are two tricks, really. The first is that you have to look hot. No matter how much makeup it takes, you have to look appealing. Humans rely on sex to fill their empty bodies, so hotness is essential. The second trick is to never hunt at the same spot twice. If you were last seen with a guy who was found dead the next morning, it's not gonna work a second time. So hop clubs. No one will ask questions, which is vital if you don't want to starve.
Friday nights are, of course, always the best times to hunt. That's what Edmund was doing that night. He had decided to change it up, hit some fancy place downtown. He donned an Armani suit (stolen from one of his wealthier catches) and took a cab into the city. Now, he was sitting at the counter of a hotel bar, drinking a glass of vodka and assessing the situation. He always loved these kills. They were so much fun. All of these rich people, so goddamn clueless. Breaking up a girls' night out or snagging one of those fading beauties who look for any opportunity they can get to cheat on their rich and impotent husbands was always a moment to relish. Killing them was much different from any of the others. Usually he just picked up a guy in a gay bar and slaughtered him in some shitty hotel room. Besides, he always...preferred the men. That's just the way it was. But tonight he would challenge himself, see what else he could catch.
With the reflexes of a cat, he turned his head just as a gaggle of women walked through the door. He looked them up and down, scoping them out. There were....three, four, five. No, four. One was pregnant. All but one had a big, fat, diamond ring on her finger. They were younger, too. Probably hadn't found out about their husbands' affairs yet. Likely happy with their lives and their marriages, at least not ready to fuck another guy yet. The one without the ring could be a possibility. The others didn't look...eligible. Keeping his eye on them, he finished the vodka off and watched the girls sit down at the other end of the bar. He liked the idea of snatching one of them, but groups are always more dangerous. Finding someone totally alone was always the better option. With groups, there are witnesses. The regional council would be pissed if he got caught because he was a careless dumbass. Maybe not, then.
“Hey, could I get another vodka?” he asked the bartender. The man nodded and poured him another glass. Taking it and placing it to his lips, he continued to survey the room. Seven men in suits gathered in one spot, probably celebrating some big deal or something. The gaggle of women at the other end. There were two couples, one honeymooning? another middle-aged, probably on one of those status-boosting anniversary trips, getting drunk and trying not to hate each other, all for the sake of looking good to their 'friends.' And then there was him, Edmund d’Aquitaine, an eight-hundred-year-old vampire, drinking his vodka and watching them all. There was a weird beauty to it. The hunter, in the middle of the flock, waiting to strike, none of them knowing who he was or what he wanted. He loved it.
“Feeling adventurous tonight, Edmund?” a voice suddenly whispered in his ear. Knowing instantly who was there, he whipped around and looked her in the eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled.
“Probably the exact same as you. What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for dinner, but now you’re here, so that’s ruined.”
“Oh, I’m just too much competition for you, aren’t I?”
“Oh, piss off.”
“I could get that one,” she said, pointing to the girl without the ring.
“I was here first.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have gotten her.”
“Really? I don’t think she looks gay. I mean maybe curious, but I don’t think she’d take one of us over the other.”
“Honey, I’ve been tailing them from the last bar they were at. That chick, Cheryl? She just broke up with her girlfriend. They’re bar hopping tonight to cheer her up.”
“That’s a shock. She didn’t look like the lesbian type to me.”
“Please, you have no idea how to read women. Besides, even if she’s not, she’d come to a hot girl like me before some asshole like you any day. I mean, no matter how cute you are, you’re not exactly the ideal manly-man.”
“Did you just call me gay?” he spat.
“Well you are.”
“I know I am, but c’mon. You’ll ruin my cover.”
“Yeah, all the better for me.”
“Oh, you prick.”
“Like you’re not? Stop kidding yourself, Edmund.”
“Thea, I relish the fact that I’m an asshole. It’s the reason I’m as hot as I am. You stop kidding yourself, because you’re the exact same. When you see the things we’ve seen, you stop giving a fuck. That’s why all the mortals think we’re so damn hot.”
Thea laughed. “The things we’ve seen...Oh, you do know I’m having a party next Friday, right?”
“What for?”
“My 1500th.”
“Oh.”
“There’ll be a lot of drinks. I’ll have a whole basement full of drinks. A wine cellar, y’know?” she winked.
“How many?”
“Shitloads. Trust me, it’ll be amazing.”
“I guess we’ll just see if I’m in the mood.”
“It’s free food, dumbass. You’re coming. Besides, you missed my anniversary last year. So you’re gonna be there.”
“Whatever. Bartender! Can you get me another vodka? Actually, can I have the whole fucking bottle? I really want to get drunk today.”
“Yes, sir,” the man responded tiredly. Probably exhausted from all of the annoying pieces of shit in the bar. He handed Edmund the bottle and turned back to the other customers.
“Didn’t you overdose or something last week?” Thea asked, trying to sound concerned.
“Darling, you have no idea,” he smirked, bringing the bottle to his lips.
“Hm.”
“What? Do you have a problem with that? Cause, honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”
“Well, honestly, half the time I wish you would die already. But I do think the regional council is gonna crack down on your bullshit sometime soon. You’re a liability to the whole goddamn coven with the way you act. You could get yourself caught if you go on one of those stupid little rampages of yours. And you know that always means tougher regs.”
“Not always. Besides, why would they care if I got caught? I’m a fucking vampire, for Christ’s sake!” he practically shouted, “I don’t need stupid rules and regs. I’m just doing what I need to do.”
“Yeah, see, that’s the reason,” she sighed, nervously scanning the bar to make sure no one had heard that. “You really can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?”
“Oh, no. Not when I guzzle this much hard liquor!” He continued to drink down the vodka, and it was clear that he was growing tipsier by the moment. Thea sighed. She had always loved Edmund and yet, at the same time, utterly detested him. The fact was, he was a prick. In fact, he had never not been a prick, as far as anyone knew. That’s just how Edmund was. Being a vampire was, to him, a free ride. Immortality, near-invulnerability and a free pass to murder people is what he saw it as. Not that he was wrong. But a lot of the other vampires believed there was a certain...decorum to the trade. That you had to be tactful, choose who you turned and take part in mortal pleasures as little as possible. Edmund, however, had adopted the basic philosophy of get wasted, get laid and murder people. Needless to say, that didn’t always go over well with the Councils, especially when he went off his rocker and killed someone in plain sight. Of course, Edmund found this extremely ironic, since the entire purpose of being a vampire was to kill people. And it wasn’t like he would die if he got caught. What’s the point of it all if you can’t have fun? Thea loved him for that. She also knew that it didn’t particularly matter what Edmund did, even if the Regional Council did crack down on his unpredictable, drunken ways. The fact was, he had always done this, and no one could stop him.
Edmund set down the half-empty bottle of vodka and looked over at her. “So,” he said, “I suppose my chances of catching those fish are gone for the night. I’m on a roll now. Why don’t we go find some sleazy whore in a back alley somewhere, then murder her in a hotel room? That sounds fun. Just order some escorts and rip their throats out.”
Thea just stared at him, tired. “I think I still have a chance with that one,” she said, pointing.
“Oh, but don’t you just want to go get drunk and kill people? Why do we have to have all the foreplay and the courting? It’s bullshit. I say,” he said, trying to stand up and wobbling a little, then sitting back down. “I say we go find us a couple whores…..and rip out their fucking throats. That sounds like fun.”
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“Edmund, knock it off. You can go and starve, for all I care. I’ve got my sights set on her, and I’m not letting her go.”
“Eugh, whatever. But that’s so stupid. I mean, really, why the fuck does it matter? We’re just feeding, after all. We could just go kill whoever. Doesn’t matter.”
“No, not tonight.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I’m in the mood for fine dining.”
“Ohhh, that’s bullshit!” he lilted mockingly. “No no, don’t tell me. Let me guess. You were dating her, and she broke up with you? And now you want to get your rrrreeeevenge by luuurring her in and sucking her dry.” He drunkenly emphasized the words ‘revenge’ and ‘luring’ as he talked, saying them in a strange, operatic tone.
“Actually, no, not even close,” she lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned towards Edmund. “I was assigned to her a couple days ago. I’m supposed to turn her tonight.”
“Oh-ho, then. I see.” Edmund said, his strong British accent making his speech even more slurred. “So you’re supposed to get into her pants and then make her...go to sleep.”
“Yeah, whatever. Really, though, I’ve got to do this.”
“Buuut Thea, whyyy?” he whined.
“Because Ichabod told me I couldn’t do it any later than tonight. No idea why, but you know how he is about this stuff.”
“Fine, then. I suppose I’ll just sit here and get drunk.”
“You’re already drunk.”
“Darling, you’ve got no idea how inebriated I can get.”
“Fine, then. Enjoy getting smashed.”
“Gladly,” Edmund said, tipping his head back and drinking down the vodka.
“Hey, Bartender. Order an Old Fashioned for that girl, the hot brunette with the Hermes handbag over at that table,” she said, pointing. The bartender nodded and began mixing the drink, hands flying between the different bottles peppering the counter.
“That’s not cliche at all,” Edmund smirked.
“That’s like, the most expensive cocktail here? Fuck off. Seriously.”
“Who is she, anyway?” He whispered.
“State Senator. Ichabod’s looking for some political pull. Turning her would make for a senator and a representative in the state legislature.”
“There’s not any representative that’s a vampire,” Edmund said, confused.
“Yeah, there is, dummy. You turned him. Remember? Two years ago?”
“Ohhhh, yeah. Forgot about that, didn’t I? Well I suppose Ichabod always gets what he wants.” He finished off the bottle of vodka and set it down with a flourish. “You know, I got so drunk I almost died the other day.”
“We talked about this five minutes ago.”
“No we didn’t, silly.”
“Whatever. So you got alcohol poisoning?”
“Yes. Yes I did. I drank THREE,” here he held up four fingers. “Three bottles of vodka in two hours. I was so fucking drunk. It was awesome.”
“How the fuck did you do that? You’re a bloody vampire.”
“I told you, I drank a lot of vodka. Simple as that.”
“Oh, hold on a sec.” Edmund rolled his eyes. Thea looked over at the table where the gaggle of girls were sitting. She could see the bartender handing the woman a drink and pointing to her. The woman smiled in surprise, and the others seemed to be excited. “Got her.”
Edmund looked over at the women. “Why does Ichabod even care? I mean honestly. Who needs political pull when you’re fucking immortal. They can give us the chair as many times as they want, but we’ll never die.”
“They don’t use the chair anymore,” Thea said absentmindedly.
“Really? What the hell do they use, then? The chair was always so much fun.”
“It’s lethal injection now.”
“So they just poison you? That’s boring.”
“It’s supposedly more humane, though it doesn’t always even kill the person.”
“That’s nice. Unreliability is always good for an execution method. I remember back in the French Revolution, when they had that stupid guillotine thing. It was too efficient, honestly. I liked it best when you just took an axe to somebody’s neck.”
“Really? I always thought that was dumb. Sure, there’s a lot of blood. But you missed some of the best punishments, back in the old days. Ever heard of the Blood Eagle?”
“Probably, but I honestly don’t care.”
“They cut the ribs from your spine and splayed them out like wings, rubbed salt into your gaping chest cavity, then cut your lungs open and stretched them over your bones. One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s delicious.” Edmund smirked drunkenly and stared, eyes dead, into the bar counter. “She’s looking at you.”
“I know.”
“Her friends are egging her on.”
“I know.”
“I wager there are some good whores hanging out around here.”
“There always are.”
“Probably the fancy ones, too.”
“She’s coming over. Shut up.” Thea put on a sly smirk and sat facing sideways, looking impish and uninterested. The woman sidled over to them and sat down next to her.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
“Thanks for the drink.”
“Anything for a lady like you. Wanna sit with me?”
“Sure,” the woman smiled. “So, what’s your name?”
“Theodora, but you can call me Thea. What about you?”
“Cheryl.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks,” she said, blushing a little.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I haven’t finished the other one yet.”
“Well, who cares?” Sitting next to them, Edmund giggled at the flirtation. He always hated the courting part of these things. The ‘letting you in’ bit. The rules of turning were obnoxious and weird, in his opinion. Can’t turn someone without their consent, unless of course you’re assigned to turn them. Don’t randomly turn people into vampires. Only select mortals can join the coven. What the fuck did it matter? There’s no fun in being immortal unless you get to do what you want. Vampires nowadays acted like a bunch of murderous birds, with their stupid mortal mating dances and rituals. It’s not like they actually needed consent to turn someone. That was just a part of the bureaucracy, because there were too many random prostitutes and homeless guys getting turned. Didn’t want ‘bad blood’ in the ranks. It was bullshit. Of course, Edmund didn’t always follow those rules. Nobody even knew about Roderick’s turning for five years. Talitha, too. She lived in his attic feeding on rats until 1893. They didn’t know that vampires even existed when they got turned. Of course, most vampires, even Thea, a 1500-year-old Byzantine queen, at least acted like they followed those goddamn rules. Though he knew their secrets.
Mmm. Perhaps he wouldn’t eat tonight. Maybe he would just get so drunk he could pass out on the floor. That’s when the Hunger is drowned out. When the body was too weak to even care about eating. It would take another few bottles to reach that point. The point when someone calls an ambulance. Whenever he wound up in the hospital, he liked seeing the fear in the eyes of the doctors and nurses when they couldn’t find a heartbeat. The look of terror and, occasionally, realization, was extremely entertaining to him. But perhaps not tonight. He was craving it, the taste of blood, and the vodka had just made it worse. He looked hungrily at the bartender’s neck. He could imagine the carotid artery bursting as he sank his fangs in, the warm blood dripping down his face and chin.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing his eyes and trying to look away from the boy. “Hey, can I get some more vodka?” Looking worried, but clearly not caring enough to stop him, the bartender nodded and poured another glass. Thea and the woman were still sitting next to him flirting with each other. But, at that moment, he couldn’t hear them. They were there, just sitting there and talking. And yet it was as if his ears were plugged with beeswax. The sound of their voices was completely muffled. No, his ears weren’t plugged. They were filled with noise, a dull, rushing noise like an ocean washing back and forth inside of his head. His face felt warm, like it was filled with liquid, and he was suddenly dizzy. The room was clear, but he felt as if he was going to fall off the bar stool. He stood up, holding onto the counter, eyes uncontrollably fixed on the man in front of him. Snarling to himself, he turned his head violently before the bartender could see the yellow eyes glaring from his head. Slowly, he began to walk towards the door of the bar. Thea looked concerned, the bartender said something to him, but he didn’t look back. The Hunger was setting in, and he needed to eat before he did something dreadful. Blood washed back and forth inside of his head, in front of his eyes, in his ears and his mouth. Then the screaming began. The screeching of a thousand voices pounding in his ears, crying out for help, let us go, please stop, no don’t, please. He shook his head violently and covered his ears, but pulled them away when he felt the warm liquid gush onto his hands. Blood dripped down his neck and onto his suit. They were screaming, all of them, inside of him, the multitudes of him. It was their blood in his veins. But he needed more. He had to feed. He had to find someone before it got worse. Stumbling, he wandered into the hotel lobby and looked around, scanning the room for escorts. There had to be at least one. There was one woman, sitting in a chair in the lounge. She looked like a whore. But as he began his advance, another man walked up to her. Damn. Frantically, he looked around, trying to ignore the screaming and the blood he felt dripping from his face. It was smeared on the sides of his neck, dribbling down his jaw. The concierge. He would do. No, it was too obvious. Goddammit. This is what you get when you get drunk on an empty stomach.
The hallways. He would stalk the hallways and find someone’s hotel room. His vision grew blurry, and all he could see was the blood. Somehow, he blindly made his way to the elevator, stumbling inside as the doors opened and groping at the buttons. The 8th floor. No one would be up to see it. The elevator ascended and, as it went up, he could hear it more and more. Damned souls banging on the shaft, pleading and crying and telling him to spare them. The elevator was empty, so he screamed to the walls as it continued upwards, tears of blood streaming from his eyes. “No! No!” he shouted to the things outside. They were getting louder and louder, closing in on him. Then the door opened. His vision cleared a little. He felt dizzy. The voices became quieter. He wiped the blood from his tear ducts, trying not to smear it on his face. Edmund watched the elevator doors close and then stood there, in the little enclave, waiting for someone to arrive. Anyone. He could hear it swoosh down, then, a minute later, a ding as it came back up. The doors opened and a woman stepped out. She had a suitcase. Probably checking in to her hotel room. Probably alone, arriving from a late flight for a business trip. She was so tired she didn’t even look at him, despite the blood streaming down his neck. Perfect. Head thrashing to the side in a sudden muscular twitch, he stepped into the elevator and held the door open, so he could see once she had turned the corner. Then he got out, let the door close, and quietly followed her through the winding, tan hallways, to the hotel room. Groggily, not looking up, she fumbled for a key card and swiped it in the lock. As she walked inside, he dashed to the door with the speed of a tiger and pushed her into the living room. The voices, the screams were fading down. They were growing further away as he grew closer and closer to making the kill. He covered her mouth with his hand, so that she didn’t scream.
“Hello, darling,” he said, looking at her with his yellow eyes that glowed with an animal ferocity. She struggled in his grasp, trying to get away but failing. He smiled, laughing under his breath, and sunk his fangs into her neck.