Page 21 of Vampire so Virtuous
Was that it? Was that the reason?
Her blood had been so potent, it hadn’t merely been her exquisite taste. And she’d reacted so fast, albeit only by chattel standards. She was a warrior. Antoine knew something of combat himself; it was hard to live through the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries without becoming embroiled in mankind’s favorite pursuit.
Was that why she was so different? No, he’d fed on warriors often enough.
Something else, then.
Maybe he could find her again, take a little more, enough to taste her and confirm her blood wasn’t the reason for this.
‘Take a little?’Why wouldn’t I feed as usual, if I were going to feed?
He was making excuses, justifying himself. How strange that one mere chattel should cause such a reaction. Yet, he was already leaping through the air, heading back toward the alley where he’d first found her, like this was what he should’ve been doing all along.
Was she really so special?
Worse, was he somehowfixatingon her?
So maybe I am fixated. I want to taste her again.
It felt good to admit it.
Though I still have to find her.
It was a little over a mile to where he’d first seen the woman.
Antoine flitted from building to building, staying to the rooftops, trailing shadows. It was easy to stay hidden from chattel; they rarely looked up, and their night vision was poor. Even if they caught a flicker of him, they’d dismiss it as a trick of the light or a figment of their imagination. Or, in some cases, outright denial that they could possibly have seen what they’d seen.
He touched down lightly on the corner of the building where he remembered seeing her. The alley was empty, not that he expected otherwise. There was always the chance she’d never return. He could wait nights, weeks, maybe never see her again. But what did he have, if not time? Patience was a centuries-old companion.
It was a bitter reflection on the pointlessness of his life.
Maybe Minh would offer a much-needed distraction. Antoine hadn’t survived for almost three hundred years just to allow some sadistic vampire with a superiority complex to take his territory. He knew how to play the game, he’d simply refused to. Maybe that needed to change. Before it was too late.
His blood pumped faster, the anticipation of conflict stirring him. How long had it been? Decades, at least. So much time had passed. He’d claimed his territory in the early 1950s, when Harvard and MIT were expanding, and the city was undergoing postwar redevelopment.
With its deep historical and cultural significance, blend of old and new architectures, and, of course, the river, Boston reminded him of Paris. A foolish comparison, in hindsight—he hadn’t seen Paris in over two centuries.
Then there was the woman. Antoine felt a flicker of thrill at the thought of a chase. Finding her wouldn’t be easy, but it gave him purpose; somethinghe hadn’t had in a long time. At the very least, it was a diversion. A break from nights spent—how had Minh put it—‘doing his gargoyle impression’?
Putain!Antoine laughed, startling a crow into the air with an offended caw.
Screw Minh. He still liked the view.
He was going to put that vampire in his place and enjoy doing it.
The Code forbade them from killing each other, but there were other ways to take his territory within the Code’s limits. Not that he needed more holdings. Still, Minh’s club held appeal, for the entertainment if nothing else.
Antoine paused, surprised at his own thoughts. Something had reawakened in him, a hunger he hadn’t felt in years.
Not the craving. This was something else.
A hunger for power.
Simpler, baser, yet no less intoxicating when fed.
Was Minh right? Had he been wallowing in self-pity?
It didn’t take much self-reflection to find the answer.
