It has been sinabi that those with no words often have the most to say.
New York City, circa 1992.
He was quiet, a secret sort of troubled, his hands buried deep into his pockets as he wandered the slums of a black city, a heavy shadow cast over the sky that was too dark for the stars to penetrate.
She was a bloodnut and she watched him from the shadows, her dead puso rattling inside of her empty chest. She launched herself at him and latched onto his arm like a leech, beginning to beg, offering services in exchange for the substance she craved so much. Just a taste, she said, she promised that would be all, but a girl’s gotta eat, she said, a girl’s gotta make a living. It wouldn’t hurt, she said, it would be just like someone halik under the skin, and it was true. Bampira won’t hurt you if they don’t want to. The numbing chemicals in their saliva are the best anesthetics available. This was madami of a hindrance than an advantage, as they were often exploited for their healing properties. Many died of shock during the milking process.
“I’ll do anything,” she said, trying and failing to look seductive with her pale skin and sunken eyes. He watched her a moment, almost in pity as she clung to his hand as if it would make all the difference between sanity and madness, as if her very soul depended on getting that one last taste. He smiled at her and took in her tousled appearance. Her mousy brown hair was stringy, unwashed and matted. Her skin was stretched tightly around her bones, as if there weren’t enough of it to cover her frail body. Her eyes were an empty brown, dead and desperate, hungry and heartbreaking.
Caleb brought his hand up to her white cheek and she gladly leaned her head into it and closed her eyes, her grip on his other arm beginning to lessen as she sensed that he was acquiescing to her pleas. He pushed a strand of frayed hair behind her ear and leaned in close, as though to halik her. Her face moved to meet his lips, but he pressed past them and whispered into her ear.
“You don’t need to do this. Take some of my blood, but just enough to keep you strong, then go to Sacred puso Blood Clinic and ask for Sophie. Tell her Cal sent you. She will get you the nutrition you need. She will take care of you.”
Caleb pulled away from her, and her eyes held something new in them. They were stunned and swirling, daring to hope that maybe this man she had chosen to appeal to this night would finally give her something lasting, something the other men never gave her. She leaned her head against his chest, but this time it was not an act of seduction. She was hugging him, being held for the first time in years sa pamamagitan ng a man she wanted to hold back. She took Caleb’s hand and kissed it, and looked him in the eyes as if for his final blessing before biting into his flesh.
And then she began to crumble, pieces of her falling to the ground, and all that was left in Caleb’s arms was a pile of ash.
It took only a moment to understand what had happened. His hand was bleeding from two puncture wounds, and the blood dripped onto the pavement. At the end of the kalye was a woman, standing strong and proud, classically holding a crossbow.
“Vampire Squad,” Caleb observed, nonchalantly.
“Protecting your bloodline since 1567.” The woman smiled.
“I never asked for protecting.”
She simply smiled and shouldered her crossbow. “You have a nice night, sir,” she said, and then went on her way.
New York City, circa 1992.
He was quiet, a secret sort of troubled, his hands buried deep into his pockets as he wandered the slums of a black city, a heavy shadow cast over the sky that was too dark for the stars to penetrate.
She was a bloodnut and she watched him from the shadows, her dead puso rattling inside of her empty chest. She launched herself at him and latched onto his arm like a leech, beginning to beg, offering services in exchange for the substance she craved so much. Just a taste, she said, she promised that would be all, but a girl’s gotta eat, she said, a girl’s gotta make a living. It wouldn’t hurt, she said, it would be just like someone halik under the skin, and it was true. Bampira won’t hurt you if they don’t want to. The numbing chemicals in their saliva are the best anesthetics available. This was madami of a hindrance than an advantage, as they were often exploited for their healing properties. Many died of shock during the milking process.
“I’ll do anything,” she said, trying and failing to look seductive with her pale skin and sunken eyes. He watched her a moment, almost in pity as she clung to his hand as if it would make all the difference between sanity and madness, as if her very soul depended on getting that one last taste. He smiled at her and took in her tousled appearance. Her mousy brown hair was stringy, unwashed and matted. Her skin was stretched tightly around her bones, as if there weren’t enough of it to cover her frail body. Her eyes were an empty brown, dead and desperate, hungry and heartbreaking.
Caleb brought his hand up to her white cheek and she gladly leaned her head into it and closed her eyes, her grip on his other arm beginning to lessen as she sensed that he was acquiescing to her pleas. He pushed a strand of frayed hair behind her ear and leaned in close, as though to halik her. Her face moved to meet his lips, but he pressed past them and whispered into her ear.
“You don’t need to do this. Take some of my blood, but just enough to keep you strong, then go to Sacred puso Blood Clinic and ask for Sophie. Tell her Cal sent you. She will get you the nutrition you need. She will take care of you.”
Caleb pulled away from her, and her eyes held something new in them. They were stunned and swirling, daring to hope that maybe this man she had chosen to appeal to this night would finally give her something lasting, something the other men never gave her. She leaned her head against his chest, but this time it was not an act of seduction. She was hugging him, being held for the first time in years sa pamamagitan ng a man she wanted to hold back. She took Caleb’s hand and kissed it, and looked him in the eyes as if for his final blessing before biting into his flesh.
And then she began to crumble, pieces of her falling to the ground, and all that was left in Caleb’s arms was a pile of ash.
It took only a moment to understand what had happened. His hand was bleeding from two puncture wounds, and the blood dripped onto the pavement. At the end of the kalye was a woman, standing strong and proud, classically holding a crossbow.
“Vampire Squad,” Caleb observed, nonchalantly.
“Protecting your bloodline since 1567.” The woman smiled.
“I never asked for protecting.”
She simply smiled and shouldered her crossbow. “You have a nice night, sir,” she said, and then went on her way.
