Page 24 of Farkas: Gothika

“I don’t have anything worth stealing,” the youth said.

Vincent’s smile was very white in the gloom. “I get permission for what I take.”

The youth’s eyes widened. But after a heartbeat or two, his posture relaxed and he broke into a wide grin. “Sometimes I don’t mind givin’,” he said. He sounded as if he was from the South.

“Excellent.” Vincent put his arm around the youth’s shoulders and steered him into the alley. When Lee hesitated to follow, Vincent looked back at him with eyebrows raised. The question was clear: Are you prepared to see the consequences?

Lee wasn’t at all sure he was, but he followed Vincent nonetheless.

The alley was narrow and strewn with flattened cardboard and bits of trash. It dead-ended at a brick wall where a single yellowish lightbulb glowed dimly over an unmarked metal door. No windows were visible, and the large garbage bins would shield them from anyone passing by on the street.

Now Lee could see that the youth was pretty, with dark curly hair and big dark eyes. A certain hardness at the corners of his mouth suggested that he wasn’t an innocent—which was confirmed when he reached for Vincent’s belt.

Chuckling, Vincent moved the hands away. “No. I seek something else. Will you give it to me?”

“Sure.” The answer came easily. “Him too?” He gestured at Lee.

“He is here to watch.”

The youth leered at Lee. “Okay.”

Vincent emitted a long sigh, like a man setting down a heavy burden, and opened his mouth. His canine teeth had elongated into sharp points, his eyes glowed ruby red, and his fingernails had become talons. The youth looked mildly surprised but not alarmed, and when Vincent stepped in close, backing the young man against the metal door, the youth simply tilted his head to better expose his neck.

Vincent bit.

It was more delicate than vicious, and the youth didn’t struggle, but Lee immediately smelled fresh blood. Vincent sucked at the wounds, and that noise, combined with the victim’s shuddering moans, made an obscene chorus that echoed against the walls.

Lee felt… horrified. Captivated. Slightly sickened. Excited. Dizzy. Needy.

So many things at once that he staggered and leaned back against the bricks. But his gaze never left the drama unfolding under that dim yellow spotlight. He saw Vincent for what he was. Not a man. Not a human at all. A predator.

That didn’t make Lee yearn for him any less.

After a few moments Vincent took a step back from the youth, who slowly sank down until he was sitting on the ground, back propped against the door. His neck was smeared with blood, his eyes closed, his skin very pale.

Vincent, licking his lips clean, watched Lee closely.

“Is he dead?” Lee asked.

“Not at this time. He will likely survive until morning, when he will be discovered by the garbage collectors.”

Likely. “But he might die.”

“Yes.”

“Others have.”

“Many,” Vincent answered calmly. “For a variety of reasons, I generally prefer to leave my prey alive. But sometimes I am too hungry, or the circumstances are such that I would prefer not to leave my prey alive. It is a gentle death, I think. If that matters.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him.

“You kill people.”

“Yes. You have killed as well, have you not?”

Lee let out a grunt. “That was war.”

“Yes. You killed because it was required of you. The same is true of me. The blood is the life, you see. Without it, I would crumble to dust.”

Although Lee was certain that killing enemy soldiers wasn’t at all the same thing as draining the life from a boy in an alley, he couldn’t articulate why. And he wasn’t sure whether he cared about the distinction. He shook his head—not to negate or deny anything, but in an attempt to clear it.