He got a booth along the wall, ordered a bloody strawberry lemonade, and shot off to the dance floor. Slithering his way through the bodies, he reached the center before throwing his arms up and his head back, dancing like there was no tomorrow.
He caught…more vampires than humans—sadly. Not that there was anything wrong with his own kind, but biting each other was redundant, and neither of them would be fed in the end.
Once a vampire took in a human’s blood, the nutrients were absorbed into their body. Therefore, a vampire drinking blood from another vampire would gain nothing.If he had been looking for sex, sure, but he was looking for blood.
As they cycled through, some propositioned him for some fun, sexy time, but they all eventually wandered off with either another vampire or a human or two, while Foxx remained.
Two hours into his dancing frenzy, hands lightly gripped his hips. The scent was powdery, almost baby fresh, mixed with sweat—not necessarily pleasant, but not completely awful. Whoever was behind him smelled nervous.
Taking a deep breath, Foxx was shocked to discover that the man who had hold of him was human.
Spinning, he glanced coyly up at the man. Though the human had a cloak on with the hood up, Foxx’s eyesight made it easy to see how plain the man was. Brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and big, thick glasses. Average in looks, perhaps even a bit dorky, but looks weren’t really important when it came to blood, so what did he care? If this human was willing, Foxx had no qualms about using his bite to pleasure the man as he satisfied his thirst for blood.
“Hello,” he yelled, peering up with a friendly smile that he knew showed off one of his fangs. Foxx had been told his smile was lopsided, and that only one fang ever showed when he smiled.
The guy returned his smile with one of his own… Well, it was kind of a smile. Just really painful looking and awkward.
“I’m Ned. Are you…looking for a drink?” the man asked hesitantly, yet just as loudly, to be heard over the noise of the club.
Oh, so right to business? Worked for him. “I am!”
“Let’s get out of here!” Ned shouted before spinning around and taking off through the dancing bodies.
Okay…that was a bit abrupt, but why be picky? He was looking for food, not sex.
“So, you really don’t mind feeding me?” Foxx asked, feeling slightly suspicious and yet hopeful as he followed the human through the tables. The human paused and looked back at him, shifting nervously on his feet.
Ned stuffed his hands into his cloak pockets before answering. “I don’t, but I'd rather go someplace more private.” The human's eyes seemed a bit too wide…as if he was trying to appear unsuspecting—or genuine.
This kind of seemed like it might be a trap. But you only live once! Well…twice for him. Foxx technically had died once before. But this second life of his was bound to end one day. Besides, bagged blood did not taste nearly as good as fresh, and he was trying to get his bite on.
He looped his arm through Ned’s, who flinched in his hold. “Lead the way then,” Foxx said brightly.
Standing at the end of a short driveway, Harlow kept to the shadows of the surprisingly tall hedges that surrounded the property he was on. His head throbbed in time with the beat of his heart. No doubt a pain that would continue until he had a chance to sleep.
He took a long drag on the cigarette in his right hand, the tip glowing in the darkness. The nicotine helped slightly to curb his desire for water.
Night had come again. Harlow eyed the small white and yellow house in front of him. It was…quaint, he supposed.
Harlow let out a stream of smoke before putting out the bud on his boot and tossing it in the trash can that just so happened to be set at the end of the driveway. Apparently, he’d come conveniently, right before trash day. Yay…good timing.
This was the house of Ned Faults, their wannabe vampire hunter. Well, it was really his recently departed mother’s house. Probably the one precaution Ned had taken in his endeavors was luring the vampires here instead of to the apartment he lived in. The man sure hadn't been concerned with avoiding any of the cameras, or giving a fake ID at the places where he’d met the victims.
Of course, it probably was less of a precaution and more that Ned’s apartment was a pigsty. It was unlikely any vampire who had yet to go around the bend would ever step foot inside. The smell alone would be enough of a deterrent. Harlow had to say, as crazy as he was, he wished he hadn’t had the pleasure. The way his boots had stuck to the laminated floors and carpet after he’d broken in—Harlow shuddered. He was fine with blood and guts, arterial spray and all that, but a trash dump was not his idea of a fun time.
Sighing, he rubbed at his head and walked quickly up the drive. On reaching the door, he knocked. There was more than one way to get in besides breaking in. But sadly, his knock received no response, meaning he didn’t get to use his strength to muscle his way inside.
Brains it was then. Pulling out his lock-picking kit from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he freed the two tools he needed. Harlow had the lock open in under a minute.
Entering the one-story home, his first thought was that the place had way too many frilly dollies and shades of pink in the furniture. Walking through the house, he thoroughly searched any drawers he came across. Not so shockingly, he happened to find quite a bit of vampire hunter memorabilia. Because who didn’t keep random bottles of holy water and sharpened stakes in multiple drawers in their home?
Okay, to be fair, Harlow's home was fully stocked as well, with a hell of a lot more useful equipment, but this was his job. Harlow had pissed off a lot of paranormal creatures over the years. He started this job when he was twenty-five, and it had been twenty years since then. And only five of those years had Harlow been choosy on his kills. Choosy, as in, he didn’t venture outside the assignments he was given.
To be fair, during those years, he usually only took jobs and tracked down creatures where he knew the individuals were going on murder sprees. It wasn’t much fun to kill someone just for existing. Not that he hadn’t done it before. But in the past, he usually avoided them if he could. Non-murder spree vampires or whatever were kind of boring to kill.
Sighing as he entered the kitchen, he looked at the fridge. Normal and white. Opening it, he eyed the contents, specifically the bottles of water.
One…couldn’t hurt. Harlow snagged a bottle, and breaking the seal, he chugged it down as he walked further into the house. Harlow found restraining equipment in one of the two bedrooms, which was even more evidence that he was in the right place. The shackles were covered in scripture, and no doubt had holy water ingrained in the metal. He also bet they were probably blessed. It wouldn’t hurt the vampire initially, but after twenty-four hours had passed, the metal would start to irritate their skin. If the cuffs were not removed at that time, the pain would increase in intensity by hour until it eventually started burning their skin. Either way, all those precautions would stop a vampire, especially a weakened one, from breaking the cuffs once they were in them.
