The Fledgling

by Diana Vincent

  Part 2: The Pet

  ∞∞∞∞∞

  Several pairs of footsteps crunched across the gravel lot. Paul sucked in his breath and reached for his gun even before looking in his rearview mirror. When he recognized the D’Capillas he exhaled in relief. His hand released his gun and he closed up the glove box, stowed his thermos and magazine, and stepped out of the car, ready to open doors.

  “Paul, please take us to the Crystal Cave,” Orion directed.

  “Very good, sir.” After the family settled in their seats, the chauffeur maneuvered onto a frequently traveled route to a popular hot spot. Paul pulled up in front of the club and a bulky-muscled bouncer sauntered over to open the doors.

  “I’ll text you when we are ready for the car,” Orion said to Paul.

  “Very good, sir.” Paul drove away to find a parking space, relieved that this neighborhood was a step up from Sandy’s.

  “Good evening, Elizabeth and Orion,” the bouncer greeted the couple. “It is always nice to have you visit the club.” He eyed Marcus, waiting for an explanation for the presence of an obviously underage kid.

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth replied sweetly. “Marcus is a friend of ours. He’s heard about the Crystal Cave and has been pestering to come along.”

  “I’m afraid I will need to check his…”

  “Of course you will.” Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively. “Marcus, show him your I.D.”

  Marcus obediently pulled out his wallet and extracted his student card, watching his mother gaze deeply into the bouncer’s eyes. The big man blinked a few times but never looked away. “Looks okay,” he said, without examining the card.

  “May we enter?” Orion asked.

  “Please, go in.” The bouncer stamped each of their wrists, and then opened a glittery, silver-painted metal door, and they entered.

  The interior design of the club reflected its name. The walls had been textured in stone patterns to mimic the walls of a cave and lined with crystal-like sconces within alcoves. Stalactite-shaped objects hung from the ceiling flashing colored lights. A live rock band blasted music from a stage at one end of the room opposite the bar. Dancers in groups, couples, and singles packed the floor.

  “We’ll just mingle in,” Elizabeth said. “In a crowd like this and with the lighting, it is very easy to nip and sip, and believe me, they love it.”

  “Stay away from the anorexic girls,” Orion advised. “Choose those who appear well-nourished.”

  Marcus followed his parents pushing onto the dance floor, both of them already moving their bodies in rhythm with the music and drawing the attention of those close enough, and sober enough, to notice their extraordinary beauty.

  A man grabbed Elizabeth’s arm to pull her toward him in a dance. She emitted a tinkling laugh as she allowed him to gyrate near her, placing his hands on her hips.

  Screaming to make herself heard, a middle-aged, auburn-haired woman, heavily made-up to hide her years, sidled up to Orion. “You are the most incredibly handsome man I have ever seen!” She stroked down the sleeves of his suit jacket. “So well dressed!”

  Orion pulled the unresisting woman into his arms and held her closely as he danced with her, and then leaned in to talk into her ear. Marcus watched the woman tilt her head back in laughter. His father took a quick nip at her neck, catching the jugular vein with one fang, sucked once, licked her neck, and then encircling his arm around her shoulder, pressed his finger to the spot.

  The woman’s eyes fluttered and she breathed in a deep sigh of satisfaction. “Where did you ever learn to kiss like that?” she moaned.

  Marcus knew that a bite from his kind did not cause pain; rather it invoked a most erotic, orgasmic-type sensation for the victim. His mother always said it was a gift they gave in exchange for the blood donation.

  Orion winked at his son over the woman’s shoulder and cocked his head toward the crowd of dancers, signaling him to move in.

  Before he had taken more than two steps, a pixyish, scantily dressed woman grabbed at his hands while swiveling her hips. “Dance with me,” she commanded.

  He obeyed and danced in close, staring into her wide-open eyes transfixed on his handsome features.

  “You are the most awesome dancer,” she yelled. She pressed up against him and brought her mouth to his ear. “I would love to see you dance without your jeans!”

  Laughing to keep her relaxed, Marcus held onto her waist and nuzzled her neck, which she tilted accommodatingly. Not the carotid, go for the jugular, he reminded himself. He nipped gently, finding the vein, and took one swallow of the delicious, hot fluid that flowed evenly into his mouth. He reluctantly pulled away after the second swallow, but he stared at the bead of blood on her smooth skin, and watched as another, and then another trickled down the side of her neck, enjoying the beauty of the dark red venous blood against the paleness of her creamy skin.

  “Marcus!” He heard his mother call to him in a voice pitched above that which a human ear could hear. She frowned at him over the shoulder of the man draped around her.

  “What?” he answered in the same pitch. Then he saw his father not far away with his tongue flapping in and out.

  “Ooh, you naughty, naughty man,” a nearby brunette shouted at his father, and lifted her face up to him with her own tongue hanging out.

  “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.” Marcus understood the hint from his father and quickly licked up the trickle of blood, then pressed his lips over the puncture site, ebbing the flow.

  “Ohhh!” his pixie moaned. “So hot!”

  “What?”

  “Hot…HOT!” She brought her mouth up to his ear again. “We could hook up at my place,” she suggested.

  “I wish I could,” Marcus answered, “but I’m flying to Wisconsin in half an hour.” His parents had tutored him in how to extricate himself from a clingy situation. One method was to use as ridiculous an excuse as he could think of at the moment, one that was not easy to argue with or that even made sense.

  “Oh,” she said with a pout on her lips.

  He pressed a finger to her neck, kissed her mouth, and then disappeared into the throng.

  Marcus moved with the dancers, nipping and sipping at every opportunity, marveling at the different flavors; all rich, hot, and satisfying. He encountered one flavor, so deliciously sweet – diabetic - he realized, remembering a past lesson. He understood now why the blood of diabetics, next to wine-rich blood, was the most sought after. “The glucose content of the diabetic human is slowly toxic to the human’s own system, but it is a bonus for us,” his father had taught.

  Unaccustomed to so much rich blood in abundance, Marcus soon felt bloated and a little ill. His appetite sated, he really didn’t enjoy mixing in with the humans here. He sensed the loneliness and despair emanating from so many of them in spite of their outward joviality, and he was not used to such depressing energy. The kids he hung with at school tended to radiate jubilance, excitement, and anticipation.

  “I’m going to step outside for some fresh air,” he called out to his parents.

  “Don’t go far,” Elizabeth warned. “I need to find a source with a little more zinc, and then your father and I will be along soon.”

  Smiling, Marcus watched his parents for a few minutes. They really like to party! And why should that surprise him? His parents were still young, both in their early one-hundreds. There was no reason for them not to enjoy themselves. His father spent many long hours at his art gallery or in his office juggling their many investments. His mother kept their home a place of beauty and comfort, shopping for and changing the décor periodically to maintain its harmonic feng shui. She often hunted solo to provide food for Marcus when his father was occupied with business. They deserved a time to play. He watched his mother dancing (along with a crowd of men and even many women ogling her). She obviously enjoyed moving to the rhythm of the music and showing off her grace and agility. Men grabbed at her hips or bolder ones tried to touch her breasts
. If they interested her, she allowed them to hold onto her for a few minutes, long enough for her to have a sip or two.

  His father drew a different crowd of mostly women, all reaching out to touch him as he danced with one after another. In spite of the rock beat, Orion somehow managed a flair of ballroom style dancing as he took a woman into his arms to sweep and guide her around, always finishing with a nip on the neck. His formal clothes did not seem out of place on him, and harmonized with his style of dancing.

  Turning away, Marcus exited the club and nodded to the bouncer who sat in his chair playing a game on his phone since there were no customers to check in. He stepped away from the light of the club’s neon sign, and leaned against the wall in the shadow of the building. The cool night air refreshed the pores of his skin that had absorbed too much of the heavy, negative energy and heat of the packed bodies inside.

  “Want some company?” A girl walked toward him with swaying hips, her question asked in a husky, seductive voice. He had noticed the girl leaning against the wall of the opposite building where she could watch as people left the club, and had determined she was a prostitute. His acute night vision had picked out the details of her attire: a black sequined halter top, very short tube skirt, high-heeled shoes that laced around her ankles, and a flamboyant, Vegas-style pinkish-blonde wig.

  “No, thank you,” he replied, too sated to be interested.

  “Ya