My First Hunt

Six weeks my vampire life has lasted, and in that six weeks Mister has told me what to do but not how to do it. Sometimes I've doubted how good a mentor he is, and other times I've regretted not listening to the wisdom he offers (my eye still itches from the sun damage three weeks ago).

Tonight comes my chance for redemption. I slaughtered my roommate, Jared, when I didn’t take Mister’s advice to feed, and now I am hungry again. Scratch that, I am starving.

When the sun dipped over the horizon and night reigned the sky, I crawled out from the cramped coffin and stretched out, feeling a burning sensation at the back of my throat, and a certain cramping in my muscles. At first, I thought maybe my body was just all stiff from being stuck lying next to Mister for so long, but the feeling didn’t go away.

“Tonight, we hunt,” Mister said as I was stretching. “You need sustenance.”

“And what about yourself?”

“I will hunt with you, young Anthony,” he promised, dipping his head into a bow.

I was nervous when he said that earlier tonight, and I’m still nervous now, of course. I feel sick, but maybe that's just hunger.

“You don’t feel sick from hunger like you experienced as a human.” Although he walks ahead of me, his voice sounds as if he is right at my shoulder. “The signs of your hunger are already present; your muscles become stiff and, given enough time, you weaken. It is important to feed regularly. The longer you wait, the weaker you become, and the harder it will be to feed. Eventually, you may just starve to death.”

Isn’t the whole point of being a vampire that it’s almost impossible to die? I feel like I’ve been robbed of all the glory they promise in fiction. I add starvation to my growing list of things to avoid, joining shit coffins, sunlight, and sleep.

Mister glides soundlessly across the footpath, steering me toward a mass of beating hearts among the otherwise quiet streets. I can hear them overlapping to create some kind of delicious symphony, yet each one remains distinct. So focused on the pulsing life pulling my body, I don’t realise the sound of music until the building comes into view.

A perfectly square building with pink-hued lights stands before me. For a moment, I feel suspicious of the decision to bring me to a gentleman’s club for hunting. Tits, dicks, alcohol, cocaine… not a problem; I am adult enough to handle this. Choosing a public place for me to practice feeding… that is strange for Mister to do.

I have been in hiding for a while since I murdered Jared. What if I am a wanted man? I’m probably screwed. As Mister makes quick work of the bouncers by the door, laying on the Persuasion thick, I understand I am undergoing another test, a rite of passage.

I enter behind Mister without even a sideways glance from security. We pass a bright pink neon sign “Ready or Not”. I suppose it is supposed to be tantalising. Inside, the air feels heavier, with a bodily salty smell on the nose. Is it the blood I smell?

“Indeed,” Mister says as he approaches the bar. “Greetings. Two vodkas with lemonade, please.”

“Greetings?” I say quietly as the bartender readies the drinks. “Nobody says that.”

“I hardly think that, of the two of us, you are the master of subtlety.”

“Subtlety… so, what, you are just trying to say something forgettable?”

“Precisely.”

The usually hard-faced man flashes a warm, handsome smile to the bartender as she delivers our drinks. I narrow my eyes while I study him not-so-subtley. The way the smile pulls his cheeks makes him seem a good decade younger. His lips are curled to produce a natural smile while hiding his fangs. I prod my own flesh-rippers with my tongue nervously. I haven’t seen a mirror in a long time to tell how visible they are.

Drinks in hands, we walk through the lounge booths and head left through some curtains toward the show. My grip on my glass is dangerously tight, and it takes mental effort for me to relax. Smashing a glass in my hand in the first five minutes isn’t subtle.

I’ve never been to a gentleman's club before, but I feel like I have stepped onto a movie set. Booths line the walls and small tables and chairs are placed across the floor. Some clearly look like they are VIP seating, with the richest looking men sitting right at the base of the stage. The patrons are respectable, nobody is causing trouble, besides some loudness at a few tables.

Mister stands awkwardly, staring at the stage, and a few moments pass until I realise he is waiting for me to pick a table. I scan the area, quickly identifying the pros and cons of each table before I finally choose one in the centre of the room. My mentor takes a seat across from me, sipping his drink quietly, watching the dancers on stage.

While he is distracted, I watch him back. His eyes are stern, as always, careful, calculating. The other men in the room each show some level of interest or excitement or pleasure but the vampire… Well, women don’t excite him, apparently.

Mister’s eyebrow twitches, and his beady eyes slide toward me. “What exactly do you expect of me, young Anthony? Do you think a member of our kind would be sexually aroused by these human women?”

The air is trapped in my lungs as I stop breathing, mentally kicking myself for ever thinking Mister would be distracted enough to not hear my thoughts. I want to explain myself out of the situation, but he is clearly waiting for me to answer his question.

A reluctant sigh leaves my lips as I turn toward the stage, eyes roaming across the women, the poles, the exposed bodies, only to feel… very little. Had I been brought here as a human, I am sure my expression would mirror that of the other men here. But I am not human, and apparently vampires aren’t attracted to humans. Am I attracted to other vampires now? Are there even many vampire women my age?

“Age doesn’t matter. The body matters.”

I want to argue and say it doesn’t sound right… but it makes an annoying amount of sense. The idea I could be with someone a hundred years older than me still feels so wrong, though.

“You will change your mind, you just need to meet some women of our kind to understand.”

“What about you?” I ask, snapping at the opportunity to find out more about Mister. “Have you ever had a relationship with another va - uh, woman?”

His jaw tightens and, uncharacteristically, he blinks. “Of course I have. You think I would go hundreds of years without companionship?”

“How many years?”

I think this is the third or fourth time I have tried asking his age, but I am no closer to getting an answer.

“Too many,” Mister says quietly, shifting his eyes back to the stage. “The booth toward the toilets would have been a wiser choice. Less noticeable if we follow someone in.”

Downing a third of my drink, I nodded. “I considered that, but I didn’t want to limit us. If there was a good opportunity across the room, we would have to walk all the way over through the middle and that’s hardly subtle, right?”

“True, but don’t think about the target, think about the destination. If you needed to walk over to the other side of the room, how would you perform the act in front of a crowd like this? If you have someone in mind who sits over that side, then it would be best to ambush them in the carpark, however there are security cameras.”

“Okay, so toilets are the best option?”

“For you, yes. For me, I can feed while hardly being noticed.”

My fingers tap on my glass while I think. Toilets are the safest place to bite someone without causing a scene, but I can’t shake the feeling that by fixating on a destination, I now have no choice on who I want to feed from. If they don’t visit the bathroom, I will have to pick someone else or risk the carpark.

I glance at the women on stage and wonder if they would taste sweeter than a man. They look juicier… softer, that melt-in-your mouth look, tender. God all I want to do is sink my fangs into a warm pulsing neck and drink to my body’s content! My legs are ready to launch at someone, but I lock myself in place. Women are not an option. A bite mark under the stage lighting will be a problem tomorrow. The patrons are my prey.

Many of the men are middle aged, unfit, unhealthy… not exactly appetizing. The men in the front row are too notable. A man strides past our table to another in the centre where a friend of his was waiting. An intense bitterness wrinkles my nose.

“What’s wrong with him?” I whisper.

“Cocaine. It is best for you to steer clear of that, for now. When you are more experienced, you can try it.” Mister shakes the ice around his empty glass and stands to visit the bar.

While he is away, I scan the rest of the patrons. Some women were in, but not many. The same bitter smell tainted what should have been a sweeter oder. The fitter men smelled of something different, gauging by their muscles it might be steroids or high testosterone. I am not sure I like it.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

A man in his thirties stands gesturing at Mister’s empty seat. He has a beer in hand, and his business suit from his day job still on, carrying both the smell of his salty sweat and his sickly-sweet cologne. His eyes are flat, and his expression is tired.

“By all means, go for it,” I wave for him to join me.

“Usually this table is free on a Wednesday,” he says simply, as if it is supposed to explain something.

My response is simple; I nod, a forgettable interaction.

The beer bottle empties quickly and he collects a second. He groans quietly as he sits back down, slumping into his chair, letting his head hang back for a moment. Another ten minutes pass before his phone lock screen flashes with a picture of his kids when he checks the time.

“Hey mate, before you head home to the family, you should probably grab a mint from the men’s room,” I say.

“They added mints?”

“Sure did. Maybe the high paying fellas down front made some requests to spruce the place up a bit,” I shrug. “Just thought I would let you know, in case you don’t want to go home smelling like beer.”

“Jesus, is it that bad?” He tries to smell his own breath. “Nice save. I’ll owe you a drink next week.”

Downing the rest of his beer, the man pushes himself to his feet and heads toward the bathroom. With no clue how to achieve subtlety, I try not to overthink while taking a slightly different path as I weave through the tables. I try to amble like the rest of them do, I try to have bad posture like the rest of them do, and I even fake some stiffness… but I worry it isn’t enough. I want to be so normal that I am invisible to the human eye.

As a vampire, the stench of the men's toilets is worse than anything I have had to smell before as a human. I stop breathing, my chest quickly resting comfortably in the stillness. The man has his back to me at the urinal. I wait for some kind of instinct to kick in but I freeze, unsure of what to do now, unsure of how to feed without causing him to freak out, and feed without tearing him apart like I did to Jared.

“You are a vampire,” Mister’s smooth voice says softly from the other side of the door, but I can hear him clearly. “You can command a human. Have faith in your strength, in your command over life, and tell him he has had too much to drink.”

“Mate, you are swaying a bit there. I think you might have had too much to drink to drive home, yet.”

The zipper comes up and the man rinses his hands at the sink.

“I’ve only had two. Looks like they ran out of mints.”

The man moves to walk past me and I panic. My arm shoots out and my palm stops him in his tracks. A look of immediate anger sparks behind those tired eyes.

“You have had too much to drink. You are clearly drunk. Stay a while longer to sober up.”

My voice is hard, the words feel sharp on my tongue as I say them. For a moment, the man’s brow furrows as he considers my words in confusion.

“Look I don’t know what you are thinking but you better back off.”

The man grabs my wrist in a feeble attempt to break by grip but I am immovable. Mister told me to have faith in my strength. If I can’t manipulate the man, then my strength is my advantage.

In a flash I whip behind the man and wrap my arm around his neck, squeezing firmly against his windpipe. Human instincts rule him as he tries to rush backwards to pummel me against a wall but my reflexes are too quick. I flick my legs out to push against the wall and avoid the slam. My prey drops to his knees and punches at my forearm but I don’t release any pressure. Eventually, the body is utterly still.

The entrance door swings open and Mister stands with his arms folded, staring at my catch. He doesn’t look impressed, but neither does he seem disappointed.

“I couldn’t do it. I don’t know how to use Persuasion. It didn’t work,” I say as I separate myself from the man.

“With practice I am sure you will master it. Tell me, what do you intend on doing now?”

“I can’t feed on him now, he has seen my face and I can’t make him forget.” I throw my hands up in defeat. “I have already assaulted the guy and he has seen my face.”

“When you have already assaulted him, then, is there any extra risk in biting him?”

The question makes me hesitate. “Well… what if he tells someone about the bite?”

“Do you think he would want anyone to know he is currently here?” Mister leans against the door, stopping a person on the other side from entering. “Is it worth the risk? The man has already seen your face, so a little bite on him just adds to the list of things he is a victim of tonight. There may be a chance he won’t tell anyone, if he is here secretly.”

“He is here secretly,” I nod confidently. “He took the bait of the mints to hide the smell of alcohol.”

“Very clever,” Mister smiles.

“I could bite him. Sure, he will remember, but he will never see me again anyway or tell anyone. Okay, I will do it. But, um, how do I stop?”

“Think of it this way,” my master’s smooth voice says, “If you are a clever vampire, you will not kill your food source. Letting your prey live will serve you well. As an undying being, this is critical to your survival.”

Survival, not pleasure. I focus myself, analysing the unconscious body for a strategy. Neck is too obvious, and I’d personally rather avoid the thigh, so the wrist is my next best. It’s winter, so long sleeves could be worn to cover it easily. With a paper towel ready to staunch any bleeding, I snatch at his hand and push the material of his suit up his forearm before sinking my fangs into his flesh.

Warm blood fills my mouth slowly but I want more. I suck at the wound, drawing a mouthful of the rich, sweet and salty liquid in, soothing my throat, satisfying the belly. I want more, I want to drain this like I used to drain a milkshake. Every inch of me wants to indulge, but I can feel the pulse weaken through the arm. I am desperate to clamp down on the arm as hard as I can, but the memory of my human bite mark on Jared’s neck breaks my frenzy. I rip my head away, pressing the paper towel on the wrist. I am panting, jaw hinging, and every cell of my body aching for more. Muscles cramp and tense, contracting, forcing me to double over where my head hovers near the wound. The sweet smell is so alluring! I freeze, holding my breath, not daring to tempt myself any further, else I will kill this man.

Mister doesn’t interrupt me, but I wish he would; anything to distract me from the arm I’m trying not to break in my grip! A minute passes and clarity returns. My senses are no longer locked on to the blood. The paper towel is red. Pulling the paper back I see two small punctures in the skin. I dip my head down again to create two more to obscure the obvious vampire bite, careful not to get any more blood in my mouth. If I taste it again, I won’t have the power to stop.

I stuff more paper towel up the sleeve and make sure it is snug before I lift the man into a toilet stall. Unsurprisingly, his weight isn’t an issue. I maneuver him easily and wash my hands before laying a damp piece of towel on his forehead, hoping it will wake him sooner.

Finally, I go to check my reflection for any blood on my face and I find a stranger looking back at me. My black beady eyes could bore a hole into someone, no longer the pale blue they used to be. My skin is bone white, aside from the area around my mouth stained red. Scrubbing it clean helps. My chest and shoulders are completely still and I make a mental effort to move them again to look natural while holding my breath. A blink occasionally breaks the hypnotic stare I trapped myself with. Blinking… Breathing… human things I forgot to do. Have I looked like this for weeks?

“Indeed,” Mister says in a deep tone, smiling in amusement. “If there is a warrant out for your arrest, or a missing persons case, it is doubtful many would recognise who you are now.”

I stare at his smile a moment, noticing the artful way he covers his fangs with his lips. In the mirror, I give my old human grin. My vampire fangs shine with slick blood still covering my teeth. My wide black eyes and bloody fangs would strike fear into anyone. I lick my teeth clean and smile with my lips closed, this time.

I'll have to work on my vampire smile.