health code.
Aaron had worked himself into a full-frothing frenzy, seeing my rebirth anniversary only days away while I languished in prison, waiting for justice that seemed unlikely to come swiftly. I hadn’tbeen concerned. When one partakes of Aaron’s company, one learns to expect such inconveniences. While he plotted, schemed, and swore he’d get us out in time, I simply waited.
We were released the day before my rebirth anniversary. I compensated for the trouble and delay by taking the life of a prison guard who’d enjoyed his work far more than was necessary.
This year, my only excuse was that I hadn’t gotten around to it. As for why, I was somewhat … baffled. I am nothing if not conscientious about my obligations. Yet I’d been content to watch the days slip past and tell myself I would get around to it, as if it was no more momentous than a missed salon appointment. Even now, it was only an oddly cerebral concern. No matter. I would take care of it tonight.
As I walked, an old drunkard drew my gaze. I watched him totter into the shadows of an alley and thought,
There’s a possibility …
I am usually quite finicky—refusing to feed off sleeping vagrants—yet as my annual kill, this one might do.
Every vampire deals with our “bargain” in the way that best suits his temperament and capacity for guilt and remorse. I cull from the edges—the sick, the elderly, those already nearing their end. I do not fool myself into thinking this is a just choice. There’s no way to know whether that cancer-racked woman might have been on the brink of remission or if that elderly man had been enjoying his last days to the fullest. I make the choice because it is one I can live with.
This old drunkard would do. As I watched him, I felt the gnawing in the pit of my stomach, telling me I’d already waited too long. I should follow him into that alley and get this over with. I
wanted
to get it over with—there was no question of that, no possibility I was conflicted on this point. Other vampires may struggle with our bargain. I do not.
Yet even as I visualized myself trailing the drunk into the alley, my legs didn’t follow through. I stood there, watching him disappear into the darkness. Then I moved on.
A block farther, a crowd poured from a movie theater. As it passed, its life force enveloped me. I wasn’t hungry, yet I could still feel that tingle of anticipation. I could smell their blood, hear the rush of it through their veins. The scent and sound of life.
Twenty steps later and they were still passing, an endless stream of humanity disgorged by a packed theater. How many seats were inside? Three hundred, three fifty? As many years as had passed since my rebirth?
One life per year. It seemed so moderate a price … until you looked back and realized you could fill a movie theater with your victims. A sobering thought, even for one not inclined to dwell on such things. No matter. There wouldn’t be hundreds more. Not from this vampire.
Contrary to legend, our gift of longevity comes with an expiration date. Mine was drawing near. I’d felt a growing disinterest in all around me, though for me, disinterest wasn’t new. I’d long since learned to keep my distance from a world that changed while I didn’t.
After some struggle with denial, I’d accepted that I had begun the decline toward death. But it would be slow, and I still had years left, decades even. Or I would, if I could get past this silly bout of ennui and make my rebirth kill.
As the crowd dwindled, I watched them go and considered taking a life from them. A random kill. I’d done it once before, during a particularly bleak time when I hadn’t been able to rouse enough feeling to care. Yet later I’d regretted it, having let myself indulge my darkest inclinations simply because I’d been in a dark place myself. Unacceptable. I wouldn’t do it again.
I wrenched my gaze from the dispersing crowd. This wasridiculous. I was no