Unending Hunger

Clouds obscured the moon, allowing the street lamps to shine all the brighter. Though not bright enough to remove the darkness from all the nooks and crannies of the buildings along the street. These conditions came as a blessing for someone like Aoife on a night like this. This night she hunted, wanting to quell the hunger in her that gripped her mind and threatened to cast out her better judgment.

She stood in one of these shadowed hideaways watching silently the early night patrons of the taverns and inns, the people going for late strolls, and those leaving their professions late. All moved about with little tension in their shoulders, and eyes that remained steady on the path in front of them. None looked about for danger or threats that might be present.

A better night could not have unfolded in front of her. With time to spare, she waited, watched, and weighed the merit of each potential target. Any groups that walked together she discounted, those who appeared in a hurry she didn’t consider, and any who carried something in their hands she’d rather not bother with.

No, she wanted someone alone, taking their time, and with seemingly no other obligations. This night she could take as much time as her hunger allowed. An outside viewer might call her picky, though her methods came from practice. Self-preservation drove her mindset when filtering out so many that could do what she needed them to do. A false move or a wrong choice would end her sooner rather than later, a fate that she avoided masterfully for many years.

Though she couldn’t wait forever, her stomach bent over on itself. The sharp pain of it dug into her side. She fought back the desire to bend forward at the discomfort. It spread to her temples as a dull thudding pounded on either side of her brain. Not enough to cloud her reason, though painful enough to drive her to more immediate action.

As if on cue, she saw a man that walked along the side of the street past her, his feet moving slowly, his hands tucked in the pockets of his modest clothes, and his head tilted slightly down.

“Good enough,” Aoife thought to herself.

She stepped out from her hiding spot in the shadows, casually entered the light of the street, and matched speed with the slow moving man. Over a few steps she increased her pace slightly to catch up with him. In short order she now walked alongside him.

As he noticed the presence of the woman next to him she spoke.

“Evening,” she said in a cool tone laced with a restrained warmth.

“No thank you,” the man said before he looked back to the street in front of him. A faint hint of ale came with his breath.

“I’m not offering,” she replied, with enough annoyance in her tone to let him know the truth of it. “Though you walk like a man who could use it.”

He did say anything and kept walking. She regarded the scent on his breath, and quickly formulated her next words. 

“Or,” she said with a long pause, “a stiff drink.”

The man turned his head slightly, though still remained silent.

“Tavern around the corner pays me to bring in patrons, two copper a head.”

“Which tavern?”

“Blind Man’s Blunder,” she said without hesitation.

He nodded, “they make enough to pay three.”

Though he talked more freely, his pace and direction didn’t change. Another jolt of pain struck her gut as she clenched her fist to prevent her body from reacting further.

She gave a chuckle, “want to go tell them that? If I knew they were stiffing me I’d demand a drink or two also.” Her tone warmed slightly as she continued.

That got a faint chuckle from him, “don’t know if they’d listen to me. Got thrown out one too many times from that place. They don’t want me back.”

“Why don’t I put in a good word for you?” She said, a sweet smile grew on her lips.

He turned to look at her, the smile seemed to lower his guard more, that and the hope of readmittance to the tavern. Though that hope faded as Aoife saw a furrow of doubt run across his brow as he looked at her. She also saw his eyes look down and focus on her lips. She took hold of his arm with her hands.

“Oh come on, like I said it looks like you could use a drink. It’s a win-win, you get back in the Blunder and I get a couple coins.”

He didn’t pull away from her, though didn’t stop his current pace yet. “No, I don’t want to be a bother. ‘Sides, the doorman knows me too well. He’ll never let me back in.”

“Perfect, I’ll sneak you in through the kitchen,” she said, with a manufactured excitement of someone crafting a master plan.

It worked, as he stopped and they stood, her hands still on his arm. A stab of pain again hit Aoife, she tried to contain it but her hands tensed around his forearm slightly. Before either could react she then also gently tugged on him. Quick enough to hopefully convince him the two actions were intended as one.

“Alright,” he finally said, a smile of a lush one his way to his next drink grew on his lips.

She nodded, “perfect, and I know a shortcut from here to the back door.”

The man nodded and let her lead him by his arm away down a side street.

While not in total darkness on the sidestreet it dimmed from where they once stood. She set a quick pace, enough to hint at excitement in their journey, though not fast enough to make it an effort to keep. For half a block neither spoke.

“So what’d you do to get kicked out,” Aoife said, as they turned a corner to another side street.

“Excessive drunkenness,” he said.

“Isn’t that the point of a tavern?” She replied.

“Yes, but when you’re drunk and cause a problem that’s where the issues come from.”

“Alright, so what problem did you cause?”

“I got a little too friendly with one of the barmaids,” he said, a natural shame in his voice.

Aoife paused, and they stood still. “You didn’t,” she started, though didn’t complete the thought. She again put on a concerned tone, more bait to keep her prey distracted, in reality she didn’t care. Just wanted him to not pay attention to their actual route along the steets.

“No,” he said, “we were familiar with each other, though once she saw how much I drank, things soured. It caused a scene one night, and I got the bruises to know I shouldn’t go back.”

The memory now fresh in his mind caused him to pull his arm slightly against her grip. She predicted his next words as a reason to not return to the scene of the memory.

“Then let’s not go in,” she said quickly, though tender enough to not sound forced. “You wait outside, I’ll grab a bottle, a full one, and you can give me the two copper. Sound fair?”

His eyes widened at the offer, “two copper for a bottle?” His desire for his next drink won out over his shame. “More than fair,” he said as he relaxed.

Her grip tightened on his arm, and lingered, as the pain in her stomach grew more rapidly, and faded slowly. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice, or at least mind.

Again she led him off, more rapidly this time. He went along, excitement infecting him for what he now thought would be a wonderful night for little coin.

Another turn quickly came, and they stood in an alley, a brick wall closing off the other end. He came back to the present from his thoughts of the promised two copper bottle.

“Where-” he started, before he was cut off by a sharp pull on his arm. She shoved him further into the alley.

Still not in full control of the situation yet, and the pain of her hunger pounding in her temples again she kept up her composure for just a bit longer.

“Apologies, I don’t want the copper, though you can give me something else in exchange for that drink,” she said as she drew close to him, close enough to press her chest against his. A moment passed for him to process the rapidly occurring events.

“O-oh, I, don’t know,” he said as he stepped backward. She moved with him and continued to press against him.

“What? I get what I crave, and you get what you crave,” she said with a laid on sultry tone, “it’s a win-win.” She whispered into his ear as she continued to press against him. He felt his back find the wall of the alley.

“Al-alright,” he said, his mind catching up to the situation he found himself in. She felt his muscles start to relax against her. He started to say something else but she raised a hand and pressed her finger against his lips.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, I know what I’m after,” she said, her voice laced with a hunger no longer masked by tenderness, or lightheartedness, or desire. 

Her lips parted, then drew back over her teeth. Long fangs emerged from behind the soft cool flesh. For only a moment the unfortunate man felt the sting of them against his skin. Then they pierced deeper, and his warm blood engulfed them. The bliss of her lips pressed against the site of the wounds. A soft sigh escaped his lips in reaction.

The knowledge of his immediate demise came slowly to him. Her lips pressed harder into his neck, their softness accentuated by a gentle sucking. His heart beat faster from the excitement of the situation he found himself in with this woman. Then a coldness entered his finger tips, strange, he thought. His hands move to Aoife seeking to feel the warmth of her to remedy the feeling. No warmth could be found.

He winced as he felt his left knee buckle from under him, almost losing his balance, but found himself supported by her as she held him against the wall. Too late, he realized that she trapped him there, pinned between her and the stones. The pain of his body starving for blood grew and overcame the tenderness that she used to mask her actions. His lips parted to call for help, though nothing escaped. A terrible weakness overtook him, preventing him from filling his lungs.

When she finally withdrew her fangs from his neck he barely kept his eyes open, faint shapes and shadows played across the glossing over orbs. Air struggled to move past his vocal chords as he still attempted to call for help. Aoife released him, and he slid down the wall to the ground, his legs gone of any strength to support him. Ungracefully his knees bent out in front of him, and pulled him forward. His face collided with the paved ground of the alley with a dull thud.

She knelt down next to him. His lips barely moved as she heard the escape of the last remnants of air knocked from his lungs by the impact. In a few moments they froze. The stillness of them felt to extend to the world. Finally satiated, her body calmed, the pains gone, and her mind free from the need to feed. As clarity returned to her, so too did the long since dulled blade of her conscience.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly to the corpse, though with no real meaning behind it. The words become an empty reaction to the aftermath of her feeding ritual. At one point she’s sure that she felt remorse for the reality of what her existence required. Though with practice her heart hardened to that sting, and the edge grew less keen over the years. She tried to be considerate with her choice of victims, and delay as long as she could. A voice she puppeted told her that was the best she could do, and at least for now she took no pleasure from it. Though she wondered when that might change as well.

Another moment passed before she reached down and shut the man’s eyes. Then she stood, walked out of the alley, and returned to her well traveled paths in the shadows of the streets.