Page 14 of Vampire so Virtuous
The man was oblivious, glancing over his shoulder to confirm he had no pursuers. Like every other chattel, he didn’t look up. He slowed and turned onto a side street. Despite the late hour, it was still too busy for Antoine.
There was no rush.
It gave him time to reflect on Minh’s presence in his territory. Twice in a little over a week—that he knew of.
Any other vampire would have already challenged the young upstart, putting him in his place, kicking him out to lick his wounds and learn respect. But Antoine found the prospect tiresome.
What was Minh after? Was he testing the waters, or was this a prelude to a takeover?
He doesn’t really think he could defeat me, does he?
Beneath him, the mugger slipped down an alley between a mini-mart and an apartment block, crouching between two dumpsters as he upended the purse into his lap. Antoine touched lightly down before him, his swirling shadows blocking the streetlight, deepening the gloom around the dumpsters. The mugger was so fixated on rifling through the woman’s wallet, he didn’t look up, merely muttering in irritation as the light faded.
Antoine shoved one of the dumpsters aside, the screech of metal drawing the mugger’s attention. His eyes widened, fear thick in the air. Before he could react, Antoine yanked him to his feet by his greasy hair and sank his teeth into the man’s neck. He never had a chance to struggle. The mugger reeked of sweat and grime, his blood flat and lifeless like the musty air of an old tomb—utterly devoid of vitality.
Damn, but it tastes like shit.
Antoine grimaced, eyes squeezing shut in disgust, as if that would block the foul tang. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to settle, and he forced himself to ignore the man’s lust-filled moans, drawing from him again, then again.
Finally, he’d taken enough to justify pulling away. He sealed the wound with a lick across the man’s grimy skin, and the mugger slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The blood sat heavily within him. His stomach roiled.
Merde. The hell have I drunk?
Antoine stared in confusion at the unconscious man. The mugger wasn’tthatfar gone. Malnourished, yes, but lean and fit enough to run. There were likely drugs in his system, though that didn’t matter. Antoine had fed on worse, far too often.
So why, then, did his blood taste so bad?
Antoine gathered himself and leaped to the nearest rooftop. It was only two stories, but he barely made it, stumbling over the edge before dropping to one knee beside a humming HVAC unit. His shadows curled around him.
From the best blood I’ve ever tasted to the worst.
He wondered if Minh had tried to poison him—set up the mugging, tainting the man’s blood, hoping or knowing Antoine would react as he had. But it was too convoluted, even for such an overdressed charlatan. Was it even possible to poison the blood of a chattel? Antoine wouldn’t know how. His own system filtered out narcotics that could kill the host. As long as the blood was fresh, its quality didn’t matter.
Besides, there was no way Minh knew of Antoine’s vigilante past.
Was there?
Mind reading was a rare vampire gift, traced to only a few bloodlines. But while young, Minh was old enough—he had the power potential. The thought was troubling.
Yet this didn’t feel like an attack. It was too weak, too ineffective. The man’s blood was bad, yes, inexplicably so, but all that mattered was that the craving had lessened.
Minh, though… Minh was an issue he would need to address sooner or later.
How did he always know where Antoine was?
Once the question formed, the answer was obvious.
Merde. He has thralls in my territory.
That was irritating.
Minh knew the Code. Was he choosing to ignore it? Did he see Antoine as such an ‘outcast’ that he believed he could act with impunity?
“Vampirism is the ultimate blessing, yet you see it as a curse. You’re not fit for such a gift. It is wasted on you.”
Tell me, Minh, did you receive yours gift-wrapped, or was it simply handed over with a flourish?
