Hunger

by Karen E. Taylor

  I glanced down at my hand and noticed that my cigarette had burned down to the filter. I angrily crushed it out in the ashtray. Smoking was indicative of my constant attempts to be human; it was a habit I had acquired many years ago to appear more normal, to try to fit in with the crowd. Apparently, like my relationships, it was an empty gesture. Maddened, I shredded what remained of the pack, put on my coat and left the office.

  “Never again,” I thought out loud on the way down in the empty elevator. “I will not rely on another. I will stay true to my nature, a hunter, a lone predator. I don’t need anyone; I don’t want anyone.” I felt a new strength, a resolve in my very being, that was never there before. For so many years, I had been frightened, guilty, and apologetic; that would end now.

  As I walked out of the building and slowly made my way to the hotel, I began to make my plans. I would still feed this evening; I needed the strength, physically and psychologically. I could see now that I had lived like a pampered pet for years, Max’s pet, to be thrown a morsel now and then, to be caressed and played with. Now I would reawaken my feral instincts, stalk my own prey and take what I wanted. There were many places in the city where people walked alone, where my food could be easily obtained. I was never afraid to prowl the parts of the city where the undesirable and unwanted lived. There were homeless people on park benches, people who had nothing to lose, no reason to guard against thieves, no value to anyone but me. And I would steal less from them than others had, only a little blood, something that they would gladly give for just a few dollars. Before I met Max this was how I lived, and I could do it again.

  I spun through the entrance to the hotel, deep in my plans for the night, and nearly ran into someone waiting by the door. With surprise, I noticed it was Larry. Despite my resolve, I felt my spirits rise. Max had sent him to apologize, Larry had misunderstood his message and he wanted to set it straight. I smiled encouragingly at him, but he kept his head lowered. His expression was rueful.

  “Miss Griffin?” I turned around and saw that Frank was on duty again. He looked at Larry and continued. “He said he had to speak with you, that it was important. I was just about to ask him to leave when you came in. Do you know him?” Frank always took his responsibilities as doorman and guard seriously. I had never had anyone call for me, and I imagine he found it rather unusual.

  “Thank you, Frank. I do know him, it’s fine.” Turning to Larry, I said quietly, “Do you have time to come upstairs? I’d like to talk about this in private.”

  He smiled at me, too brightly, I thought. “Yes, I’d like that.” We boarded the elevator and rode silently, both staring at the lighted numbers above the door. The elevator stopped at my floor, and as we walked down the hall, I found his closeness exhilirating. Surely he was not off limits now. I imagined I could hear his heart beating, circulating the precious blood through his veins. By the time we arrived at my room, I was trembling with anticipation and nearly dropped my keys. He took them from me, and without a word, opened the door and escorted me in.

  I took off my coat, walked to the bar and poured myself a drink, to steady my nerves. When I turned around, Larry was staring at me, with a look of surprise on his face. “You look so different, Miss Griffin,” he said, sitting down on the couch. “Younger or something.”

  “Not quite the elegant lady of the night you’re used to, am I?” I indicated my clothes with a gesture and made a slight curtsy. “Let’s just drop the Miss Griffin, shall we? Please call me Deirdre. Can I fix you a drink?”

  “I’d better not, I’ve got to be back to work in a bit. If Max knew I came here he’d fire me.” His mouth set into a frown incongruous for his years. “And unfortunately, I need the job.”

  I was disappointed that he was apparently not here to apologize for Max, and yet, just the closeness of this man, this human with his aroma of blood and sweat, was enough for me to forget my hurt and concentrate on my hunger. I would have to act fast on this and satisfy my need before he had to return to the Ballroom. I knew he wanted me, I could read it on his face. It would be easy enough to seduce him, to feed on him, and then to implant the suggestion that he had spent a rather disappointing time in my bed, that his visit here was not something he’d like to repeat. I felt a rush of power, and said a thankful prayer that my first independent victim in years was so neatly delivered to my doorstep.

  I moved slowly toward him. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He stood up for a minute as if to come closer to me. I leaned forward, but he moved back, suddenly seeming uncomfortable and uneasy. Then I smiled and he relaxed, sitting down again and casually laying his arm over the back of the couch. I admired his handsome form clad in the Ballroom’s uniform tuxedo. On Max the suit seemed like a second skin, on Larry, it was a cocoon from which his lean, youthful body struggled to emerge. I longed to unbutton his shirt, undress him completely and enjoy his blood. Take it slow, I advised myself. Don’t scare him away.

  “Are you sure you won’t have a drink, Larry?”

  He checked his watch, “Well, yeah, I guess a small one wouldn’t hurt.”

  As I filled a glass for him, I was aware of his gaze following my every movement. Slowly I walked across the room and handed him his drink.

  “Thanks.” He gave me a nod and took a sip. I sat down next to him and waited.

  “I thought maybe you could help me out.”

  “And how could I do that?”

  “Well, you could answer a few questions for me. I’ve been trying to understand what goes on with you at the Ballroom. Max has always maintained that you belonged to him; that no one at the club was to touch you. But then, he’s always setting you up with other men, total strangers, some of them real sleazeballs, and you always go along with it.” He looked at me, with a odd, almost pleading look, wanting answers I could never give him.

  “Larry, it really is not what you think.”

  He gave me a sharp look. “How can you guess what I think it is? Just answer my question, what happens between you and the men he brings in? Once a week, almost like clockwork you’re there, not good enough for the staff but just fine for anyone else he can drag in. And what about this Andrews guy? He’s dead, did you know?” At my nod, he continued. “I thought you might. The cops were there too, talking to everyone, looking for you.”

  “But I didn’t have anything to do with . . .”

  He didn’t let me finish. “That doesn’t matter,” he said with a shrug. “What bothers me most is Max’s reaction. When he heard, he was furious, ranting and breaking things. He doesn’t even want to hear your name, and asked me to keep you away. He should know you by now! How can he turn on you like that? You, of all people, you’re so beautiful and, well, he should want to protect you, worship you . . . like I do.” This last was said quietly so I could not hear, but I did and looked at him intently; he stared at the floor, his cheeks flushed.

  “How old are you, Larry?”

  “I’ll be twenty-five in January.” He seemed defensive, avoiding my stare. “Not that much younger than you.”

  “Looks can be deceiving. I’ll be thirty-six on my next birthday,” I lied. I reached over to him and taking his hands in mine, made eye contact. “Take my advice, please. Don’t try to get involved in any of this, not with Max or me. You’ll just wind up getting hurt.” I dropped my eyes but remained holding his hands. “Whatever goes on at the club,” I smiled my most convincing smile, “and even my relationship with Max, well, that is all over now. So let’s not discuss it, okay?”

  “But what goes on, Deirdre? What happens that’s so awful you can’t talk about it?”

  I realized that I had perhaps underestimated him. He was young, true, but not stupid and certainly not unobservant. And unfortunately for me, not a good choice for feeding. Taking his blood now would only raise more questions in his mind, cause me more problems than it would solve. “It doesn’t matter, Larry,” I said with certainty, meeting his eyes with a
s much determination as I could muster. “All that is over. Just forget about it. Forget about it.”

  He stood up and shook his head briefly, confused by the forcefulness of my command. “Well, I guess I’d better get back. Thanks for the drink.”

  “I am glad you stopped by, Larry.” I took his arm and walked him to the door. “It was so very nice of you to be concerned for me. But if you have to go, you had better go now. I would feel just terrible if I got you fired. We can get together some other time, dinner on your day off, maybe?” I didn’t want to alienate him, but if I spent much more time in his presence I could lose my control. Fortunately, he seemed not to take my comments as a brush off.

  “I’d like that, Deirdre. May I call you?”

  I smiled my warmest smile. “Anytime, Larry. I would be happy to talk with you again.” On impulse I stretched up to kiss his cheek. He turned his head to meet that kiss, and folded me in his strong, muscular arms. His tongue probed my mouth, tentatively at first and then with more purpose, his warm hands molding the flesh of my lower back. He was so ardent that I almost relented and, regardless of the danger involved, almost sunk my sharpening teeth into his neck. As I was about to make my move, he pulled away, abruptly. Surprisingly, he was blushing.

  “I’m sorry, Deirdre, I didn’t want to, I mean, I’m not ready to . . . See you later.” He ran from the room and down the hall as if I had bit him and was pursuing him for more. The elevator door closed and I closed my own.

  I was shaking still from my unsatisfied need, when suddenly I began to laugh, sounding slightly hysterical. “It seems the great huntress may have found herself a virgin,” I said to myself. “The best blood of all, so the books say, and she let him get away.” I poured myself another glass of wine and as I drank it, I calmed down. In another few minutes I would leave and find myself a more appropriate victim.

  Frank gave me a curious look as I left the hotel, but I ignored the questions in his eyes, and walked out into the night.

  It was early evening, and there were many clusters of people, pursuing their own interests, shows or dinners or drinks with friends. These could be no help to me, but not too far away were dark streets avoided by most of the city’s dwellers. Gwen’s weirdos walked these streets, or at least I hoped so; my conscience seldom rebuked me for feeding on these. I sniffed the air and enjoyed the stabbing sensation of cold entering my lungs. It would snow tonight, a thin white covering that would too soon be grey or black with the morning’s traffic. I turned off onto a less traveled street, and began to grow uneasy; was I being followed? I looked behind me, but there was no sign of movement. I thought I could hear faint footfalls echoing my own, but when I stopped the sounds ceased, even as my own did. I brushed off the feeling; I was letting the events of the last few days influence me. There was no one there, and even if there were, I knew I could handle them. After all, I was hunting for just such a person.

  Then, in the darkness ahead, I perceived a shadow against a wall. Had my night vision been less than perfect, I would have walked right by without noticing him. I heard him breathe a small sigh, his patience and silence had paid off, or so he thought.

  Whether he desired my purse, my body or my life, I never had the opportunity to find out.

  I walked past him, as if I did not know he was there. He came up close behind me and grabbing my arm, whirled me around. “Hey, baby,” he said, and then spoke no more. I flung myself at him and fastened upon his neck. He struggled, but I drew his blood quickly and violently, quenching my dark thirst. As he grew quiescent in my arms, I fed slower, savoring each drop. It was ecstasy; it was hell, it was life. I pulled myself from him, shuddering when the withdrawal was complete. He was unconscious, but his pulse was strong, much stronger than Bill’s had been last night. Ordinarily, I would have taken more, but I felt safer only taking exactly what I needed.

  I left him lying where I had found him. When he came to in a few minutes, I would be gone. Chances are, he wouldn’t remember the incident, and due to the darkness of the alley he would probably not even recall my face. And I doubted that he would report the attack to anyone; after all, who would believe him?

  As I turned away and began to walk back down the alley, I heard a stifled gasp coming from where he lay. There, I thought with satisfaction, he was even stronger than I thought and was already reviving. I hurried back to the more populated streets, and passing a store, peered in the window at my reflection. Other than my shining eyes, there was no telltale trace of my activity. I removed a tissue from my pocket and wiped my mouth anyway. I fluffed my hair around my face and headed back to the hotel. I was glutted with blood and would want to sleep soon. It had been a successful hunt, I thought, and moved languidly through the streets. Snow had begun to fall; I raised my face to the night sky and felt the brush of flakes on my cheeks, like the tentative touch of a baby’s hand: so beautiful, so pure, and so soon gone.

  “Did you have a nice walk, Miss Griffin?” Frank asked as he greeted me at the door.

  “Yes, it’s a lovely evening. Good night.” When I got to my room, I completed my evening rituals; the locking of the door, the pulling of the drapes. After tonight’s feeding, I should sleep well and wake tomorrow, refreshed and renewed. I turned off my restless and questioning mind, fell upon the bed and slept.

  Chapter 4

  My sleep was disturbed by the ringing of the phone. Someone must have switched the ringer back on while cleaning the room and the unknown caller was desperately trying to avoid the answering machine. The phone would ring four times, then stop; this pattern repeated every five minutes or so. I half remembered hearing this as I slept and wondered how long it had continued. No matter, I was awake now; I had slept through the entire night and the next day. The sun was setting as I left my bed and I felt a new strength flow through my body. I had experienced this feeling many times before in my life, but it always left me in awe. I was young, strong and prepared for life. I felt like I did indeed possess the powers my kind were purported to have: flying, shape changing, dissolving into a mist, none of these seemed out of my grasp tonight. This wonder of my existence had kept me sane through my many years and lives; without it, I would have persisted in finding a way to die.

  The phone rang again as I unlocked the bedroom door and entered the bathroom. I let it ring; they had been calling for a while, they would call back. I inserted my contacts, turned on the lights and sat in front of the mirror to brush my hair, which seemed electric and vibrant, with a life of its own. I could feel each stroke of the brush tingling from the roots to the ends. As I applied my makeup, I noticed that the feeding of last night had revitalized my skin; it was firm, smooth and without blemish. I felt perfected in every way, and ready to conquer the world.

  As I dressed, I planned the evening. I would begin to stake out new territory, visit a few of the newer clubs that had opened. Although last night had provided satisfactory sustenance, it had not given me the contact I had grown to appreciate through years of feeding at the Ballroom. I still needed the interplay, the seduction; I wanted to ignite the spark of desire in a man’s eyes. I hadn’t the companionship of others like me and although I knew that at least one must exist, all I had of him were the small fragments of a dream I would like to forget.

  This time when the phone rang, I answered it.

  “Deirdre, don’t hang up, please.”

  “I received your message, Max,” I said coldly. “I won’t be back.”

  “No, wait. Let me explain. You owe me that, after all these years.” He sounded sincere enough, and yet I did not want to fall into the trap of trusting him again.

  “Do it quickly, then, and get it over with. I have plans for this evening.”

  “Deirdre, love, I made a mistake. I’m only human, you know.”

  “And you know I’m not. Now get on with it, or let me go.” I doubted he had much to say at this point.

  “Look, I can’t talk about this over the phone. Come and see me tonight and if I can’t
make a reasonable apology you have my blessing to go for my throat.”

  In spite of the anger, I laughed. “Too bad you didn’t make that offer last night, when I really needed it. You could have saved me a bit of trouble.”

  He didn’t laugh. “I’m truly sorry, my dear. Please come tonight. It’s important.”

  Wearily I agreed. “Only for a moment or two, and only because I want to hear your excuses. I’ll be there.”

  Despite Max’s attempt at reconciliation, I still wanted to pursue the plans I had been formulating. After a brief stop at the Ballroom, I would catch a cab and get a recommendation from the driver on some of the newer night spots in the city. I didn’t have to feed this night, I might even be able to wait a week for my next victim, but I needed to know what alternatives I had.

  I walked to the club; the snow from last night had completely disappeared and the night was bitter cold. The skies were clearer than normal and the light of the moon bathed the streets in a soft glow. I felt like I was on a holiday, somehow. I had no hunger to drive me, no needs to satisfy; tonight I could be merely human.

  Larry must have been off this evening, the doorman was a stranger to me, but since it was early, and a Sunday, I had no trouble getting in. I mentioned that I was here to see Max, and he nodded. He had been expecting me, he said. Max had some urgent business that had just come up but I was to wait in his office. As I was escorted to the room, I thought that the urgent business was probably nonexistent, a ploy to throw me off balance, a chance to get me thinking about Max in familiar, comfortable surroundings. As I settled into the couch, with a glass of wine from a newly opened bottle, I struggled between anger at his self–assurance and tenderness at being completely accepted by him. He knew me so well; how could any of his ploys fail to work?