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While it doesn’t take much to have Lexi fly off the handle, it does take a bit more work to get her into full anger. And there is no mistaking that is where she is right now. This is not good.
“Lexi, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell you. I have to show you.” Her words come out in a growl, and suddenly, my heart starts beating faster. I plant my feet and the sudden change in resistance has Lexi turning around to face me.
“Lexi, what happened? Did you kill someone or something?” It wouldn’t be the first time I have helped my best friend dispose of a body.
She darts her eyes to the ground. “It’s Teddy.” Her words are a whisper that boom in my ears.
Teddy? She fucking killed my boyfriend?
“You killed Teddy?” I cover my mouth with my hand. My emotions at war with themselves over what could have driven her to do something like this have me on the verge of tears. Angry? Sad? Confused? Most likely, all three at once.
Lexi shakes her head, and when her gaze meets mine again, the look is pure steel. “I didn’t. But you might.”
The tears dry up just as fast as they threatened to fall, and fire coats my veins.
Oh, Teddy. What have you done?
Keith À La Carte
Victor
The wind blows through the trees, carrying the smell of food.
Most para hate the way humans smell. If they weren’t my meal source, I may too find their scent to be unbearable. Instead, I find it mouth-watering. Although to be fair, there are many other living creatures that also sustain my diet. But humans are more like meat and potatoes. They are a staple and provide an adequate amount of nutrients.
Everything a growing vampire needs.
In the dimming light, I spot my target paying his fee at the ticket booth. When you have been alive as long as I have, you learn to adapt your feeding habits to accommodate the locals, so as not to upset the balance of things. When he flashes his motor vehicle identification card, I use my enhanced sight to hone in on his name.
Keith Evans.
He smells like cigarettes and alcohol. He has a fading tan line from his former wedding band, and the toupee he is wearing to cover his half-bald head is a few shades too bright to match his remaining natural hair. His outfit screams that he is stuck in the nineteen nineties, most likely when he was in his prime youth and deceptively attractive.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
As he advances into the carnival, I observe as he leers at a few females, barely managing to let the one walk away before licking his lips and dry-humping the air behind her.
Yes, Keith will do nicely.
As I prowl behind him, I consider leaving him at the cockroach-filled motel down the street after feeding. He will be weak enough to sleep for a few days and judging by his persona, no one would miss him for that time. He continues his predatory behavior, and when he manages to grope the behind of a young girl barely in her teens, I decide that the cockroaches deserve better than Keith.
I close the distance between us and lean against Keith, whispering my influence into his ear. Quite the nifty little trick my species uses to keep our prey docile and the communities oblivious to our actions. Granted, it only works on humans, so I suppose I am lucky that they have been my preferred meal for many decades now.
“Hello, Keith. I hear you like to have fun with the ladies. I have a few lovely women who are eager for your company tonight. Meet me outside the south gate, and I will take you to the party.”
Stepping back, I observe my handy work as Keith begins moving in a fugue state. Unaware of his surroundings. Only able to focus on the words I spoke to him. This also means that any females from this point until our rendezvous spot, are now free of any possible groping he would have normally attempted.
Just doing my civic duty. What can I say? I’m a feminist at heart.
However, that too is something that I have not had an interest in enjoying for several decades either.
A woman.
Not as my meal or in my bed.
After Francesca, the thought of allowing myself such things is nauseating.
