The Human

  The ride back to his apartment was mostly uneventful. The driver was chatty and the vampire was happy to make small talk with her the entire drive as if the past hour hadn’t happened. He could seem so normal. So human.

  I tried letting go of his hand shortly after we got in but he wasn’t having it. He wrapped his fingers around mine and gave my hand a firm squeeze, instead; I didn’t try again.

  I never expected to be so turned around. I thought about the tears in Beth’s eyes as she answered his questions. Did she participate in the charade on Charles’ orders? What could’ve gone so sideways that they’d resort to this? Or, what did the vampire hope to get by creating this uncertainty?

  He lifted me once we were out of the car and carried me the whole way up to the apartment. He used one arm as though I weighed nothing, his other hand still holding mine. After he locked the door and set me loose, I headed for the bathroom immediately to wash off the night.

  I started the shower, undressing then unbraiding my hair while the water got hot. Once under the stream, I let myself fade into the white noise the water created as it hit the back and top of my head. The body wash fell from its shelf, I must’ve bumped it, and I bent down to grab it. The dizzy feeling from earlier returned as I stood straight.

  I used the wall to lower myself to the wet tile. I’ll just wash myself from down here. I started with my hair and worked in the shampoo. While it sat in my hair, I leaned against the wall to rest for a few minutes.

  He was cleaning my leg with a rag when I woke up. I’d been moved forward from the wall and now leaned back against him; his legs stretched out against the outside of mine. My hair was soap-free and the side of my neck felt raw over the bite as if it’d already been cleaned.

  “Almost done.” He finished with my other leg and moved me up to his thighs to wash my butt and between my legs.

  He stopped the water and placed me back on the shower floor before he got up. I wrung some of the water from my hair and he towel-dried it. He handed me the brush while he started on himself and I worked it through my hair.

  “Leave it down,” he said, when I started preparing to pull it back.

  He lifted me to my feet to towel off the rest of me, then trailed behind me as I walked to the bedroom.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He left once I pulled the covers over me.

  His finger is in my fucking mouth. He laid partially over my back, his dead weight stretched over me and his dick tucked against my butt. Between my cheeks would be more accurate. Once again, neither of us were clothed.

  If I bite his finger off, will the stump heal quickly or does the whole finger grow back? I turned my head until his finger slipped out; knowing wasn’t worth his retaliation.

  This didn’t wake him but I expected moving any more than that would. The sun was still up but it was hard to estimate the time through the tinted windows. Which would be worse: staying trapped under him like I was until tonight, or having to interact with him because I woke him up?

  I worked on going back to sleep so I didn’t have to think about it.

  There was knocking from at least a floor below, getting closer each time it repeated. They were loud and attention-grabbing, like a cop’s knock, but with a different pattern: Knock knock knock-knock. Knock knock knock-knock.

  If the vampire were still in the building, the knocking would have already stopped.

  Knock knock knock-knock. Here comes the bride. Knock knock knock-knock. All dressed in white. Paul knocks like that. Oh, fuck. Paul, you shouldn’t have come here.

  I had at least a few minutes before Paul would reach this door. I did my business and threw on the change of clothes set out for me. Maybe it was the adrenaline but I already felt markedly better than I did the night before. My neck was still bruised but the inflammation was gone and the wounds themselves were barely noticeable.

  I approached the door and repeated the pattern against it. Silence, followed by heavy footsteps down the hall, then the stairs.

  “M?” A man’s voice, not Paul’s, called once he was on the same floor.

  “Over here!” I lightly rapped on the door until he was in front of it.

  “P sent me,” he explained as soon as he reached the door. He tried the knob, then I could hear his hand slide around the edges of the frame. “How the fuck does this door work?”

  “If I knew, I would’ve solved my own problem. I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave.”

  “Not without you.”

  Don’t be stubborn. “I told P to wait for a reason. You don’t want to be here when he gets back.”

  “I’m not paid to take your orders.”

  He’s not one of us. Okay. “You can’t get paid if you’re dead.” That also means Charles doesn’t know about this.

  “I’m going to run down and get a few tools, see what’ll open this door.”

  “Be smart. When you get downstairs, get in your car and go. This isn’t worth whatever he’s paying you.”

  Just when I thought he might have taken my advice, I heard his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

  “I’m back, M.” There were a few metal clinks as tools were placed near the door.

  You desperate idiot. “You should’ve left.”

  “I’m going to try the pry bar first.”

  “I won't use the pry bar ‘til later.” I didn’t hear the vampire coming up the stairs or down the hall.

  “Shit!” Neither did he, apparently.

  A very brief scuffle ensued on the other side of the wall before the door opened and the man was tossed inside the room. I definitely didn’t recognize him.

  “They told you to leave.” I sure did. “I suppose since you went through all this trouble, you should at least meet them.”

  He grabbed the tools the man brought up with him – the pry bar and a small tool box – and set them down just inside the apartment. The man got to his feet and took a defensive stance.

  The vampire’s eyes locked in on his and he nearly froze, just like Beth had the night before. “You don’t want to fight me. Now, take a seat in that chair and don’t get up until I say you can.”

  The man did as he was instructed. Is this Part Two of what he was trying to show me with Beth? The vampire released his hold while he searched through the tool box.

  P’s man tried to stand up. A look of panic crossed his face as he remained in the chair. “What.. what did you give me?”

  He scoffed. “As if I’d waste anything on you.” A screwdriver was in his hand when he turned around.

  “I can’t feel my fucking legs, man!”

  “That’s not good.” He approached the seated man and flipped the tool around with his fingers as though in thought. “Before we get too concerned...” He gripped the handle and lightly dragged the tip of the screwdriver across the man’s right leg.

  “What are you do-” The man’s question was quickly answered.

  The screwdriver was speared into his upper thigh and his screams echoed through the apartment. He reached for the handle, still being held by his attacker.

  They shared eye contact again. “Leave it in.”

  My captor grabbed the toolbox and took it with him to the couch, setting it on his lap. I took a seat at the edge of the other chair. Without looking up from the contents of the box, he patted the cushion next to him. I complied. I didn’t want to be the target of the next tool he picked.

  He placed the toolbox on my lap and returned his attention to the uninvited guest. “These are very nice, thank you,” he said, with the same enthusiasm as someone accepting a gift.

  The man continued to whimper in pain. His hand was wrapped around the handle but he was unable to pull it from his leg. Blood started to show through his jeans, forming around the metal and slowly growing outward.

  “Looks like you can feel your leg after all. Do you need me to take a look at the other one?”

  “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

  “As you wish.” His words had the same sadistic edge that I heard the night he first bit me.

  He placed his right hand on my left thigh as he kept his attention focused on P’s man. The man froze as he locked in on him once again. “You can pull it out of your leg, now.”

  He gripped the handle tight, groaning in pain as he slowly removed the tool from his leg. The bloody patch on his jeans grew quickly once the metal no longer plugged the wound, and the scent of his blood became noticeable in the closed space.

  “Take the screwdriver and jab it into your other leg.”

  It might as well have been his own idea, the man didn’t hesitate. He brought the screwdriver down into his own leg, my thigh receiving a squeeze as he made contact. The commands didn’t make him immune to the pain and screamed as he stared straight ahead, forced to maintain eye contact with the vampire.

  “Deeper,” my captor growled. “You have another two or three inches to go.”

  This was achieved with more groans of pain from the man who should have left. His hands shook as he did what he was told.

  “Don’t remove it.”

  There’s no way this is an act. I can’t believe I thought, for even a moment, that Beth would knowingly cause me harm. What the fuck has he made me do?

  The right leg of the man’s pants was now soaked, the metallic smell heavy in the air. My stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since last night.

  “I have questions. Are you going to answer them or will you continue being difficult?” He removed a pair of needle-nose pliers from the toolbox while he waited for the man’s answer.

  The man’s eyes widened. Like me, he was probably considering how those could be used on him or how he might be made to use them on himself. “I’ll tell you. I’ll fucking tell you! Shit ain’t worth all this!”

  “Who told you to come here?”

  “He goes by P. Told me his name was M.” He pointed a bloody finger at me. “Never gave me real names.”

  “What were P’s instructions?”

  “Wait for you to leave. Find M. Don’t leave without him.”

  “And once you had M?”

  “Give him a ride home.”

  My captor straightened up, interested. “Ooh, where’s home?”

  He shouldn’t know that.

  “Some apartment complex on the other side of the city.”

  The complex we use for many of our aliases.

  He appeared disappointed with that answer. “Wrong. This is their home.”

  “Look, man, I don’t know what is and isn’t! It’s a job, I’m following orders.”

  “What do you have to do to get paid for this job?”

  “Text P, he’d meet us at the complex and pay me when he saw M. He’s paid me for jobs be-” He began to panic as the vampire got to his feet. “No.. no! I’m cooperating!”

  “Yes, you’re doing a good job.” He seemed to have captured the man’s attention again. “You can get up.”

  The man quickly stood, groaning in pain as he put weight on his injured legs. He reached for the handle protruding from the thigh but was still unable to bring himself to pull it out.

  “We'll take your truck to the apartment and you’ll text P once we get there.”

  Fucking Paul, you were supposed to wait. Fuck this guy, too.

  “How did you-”

  “Let’s go.” My captor unlocked the front door and led the man out.

  The door shut and quickly reopened. The vampire reached in and grabbed the crowbar, then shut the door a second time, locking it.

  I immediately made my way to the kitchen. I couldn’t stop once I started: I went for the electrolytes first – that was the last thing that seemed to satisfy this hunger. I drank a glass, then another, to no effect. I moved on to the lunch meats, cheeses, bread, and hard-boiled eggs. I ate at a normal pace, but the craving for… something… just wouldn’t go away. I was insatiable, worse than how I was after I escaped.

  I was still in the kitchen, grazing on almonds, when he returned. He was saturated with blood. At least some has to be Paul’s. The front of his shirt and jeans were soaked in the same places some people get wet when cleaning dishes. His hands and wrists were covered in a mix of what appeared to be blood, dirt, and grime, and his arms had large, bloody handprints where someone else had grabbed them. Paul’s hands are quite large. He had blood around his mouth – maybe Paul was able to land a punch, but it was far more likely Paul’s blood on his lips.

  He grabbed a spray bottle from under the sink and heavily doused a section of the floor and the entire chair. It was a blue-ish liquid but it reacted to the man’s blood like peroxide. I bit into an apple and he glanced over at me, wordlessly.

  Does he blame me for the man Paul sent? How does he intend to punish me for this?

  He sat his boots in the sink and sprayed them down as well, then started to remove his clothing on the way to the bathroom. The water started and I waited a few minutes before I followed. I noticed the knife block out of the corner of my eye and remembered I’d taken a knife from it. Someone found it – him? one of the people who came here to clean? – and put it back. Fuck. Time to find out how much trouble I’m in for tonight.

  His clothing was in the sink, containing the mess, and two phones sat next to it. I took a seat on the counter and leaned back against the mirror.

  “Don’t worry, none of it’s mine.”

  I know. I popped a small handful of almonds in my mouth instead of acknowledging him – I brought the bag in with me.

  “I didn’t kill him, whoever P is. We didn’t even cross paths.”

  I don’t believe that for a second.

  “You don’t seem worried about it, though, so maybe I should have.”

  I crunched on another small handful of almonds. He’s right, I’m not worried. I told Paul to wait and he decided he knew better. I didn’t wish him dead, and his actions were always well-intended. But, he was often impulsive and overconfident. I told him rash decisions like this would be what got him killed one day.

  The curtain slid open and he peeked at me. “Coming in?”

  That’s my cue to leave. “...No.” I hopped down from the counter.

  “Stay, we need to have that talk.”

  I sighed and leaned against the vanity, reaching into the bag for another handful.

  “You should know why you’re here, even if you can’t accept it.”

  What kind of bullshit mind game are you starting now?

  He was quiet for a moment, the water hitting the bottom of the shower in a manner that suggested he was either soaking or rinsing out his hair.

  “That first night, I was just looking for something to do before I went home. You caught my eye. Wrong place and time, some might say.”

  You’re right, I already don’t accept this.

  “You knew I was up to no good, and I know you were just trying to brush me off, but your sarcastic, flirty approach had me hooked.”

  He didn’t get the results he wanted from taking me back to The Diner so now he’s trying to toy with my emotions. Some sort of Stockholm Syndrome romance so I communicate more openly with him. What the fuck is he trying to get from me? Beth and Paul aren’t in on it, but Charles…?

  “Unfortunately – for me, at least – I wasn’t able to grab you that night. I can’t tell you with certainty how that night would have gone if I’d gotten my way. I would have bitten you. Maybe we’d have fooled around a bit before I let you go.”

  “We?”

  He was quiet while he scrubbed. “There’d have been some fooling around,” he finally said, with the kind of smugly casual tone usually accompanied by a shrug. “I had an address for you that I checked out the next night, I’m sure you know how that went.”

  Last night wasn’t the first time he’d been to the apartments, then.

  “I didn’t expect to run into you again, I figured that was that. But there you were the next night, a different aesthetic from our first encounter – whether you’re trans or genderfluid or-”

  “I’m.. a guy.” Is that why he uses ‘they’ so adamantly?

  “It was unmistakably you,” he continued, after processing what I’d said. “And, the way you reacted when you heard my voice again, that brief adrenaline rush, I finally got to see that stoicism you wield so well crack for just a moment. I wanted to shove my hands into that crack and see how wide I could make it.”

  You’re so full of shit. “You wanted to kill me. Don’t romanticize it.”

  His amused laugh echoed in the shower. “I want to kill you at least twice a day, Michael. You get me so worked up. No one that suspects or knows what I’m capable of has been so defiant or talked to me the way you do-”

  “More people should,” I argued.

  “-and lived,” his laugh grew a little louder.

  I reached for more almonds while I mulled over my next response and my fingers touched the bottom – empty. Did I eat the whole bag? I tossed it in the bathroom’s trash. “Why am I alive?”

  The water stopped and he opened the curtain, stepping out while still dripping wet. I headed toward the door but he grabbed me before I could exit. He placed me back on the counter and stood between my legs so I couldn’t get back down.

  “Because I wanted more. Want.”

  “I don’t have more. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

  He snaked his fingers into the hair at the back of my head, gripping it tightly, and leaned in, his lips inches from mine. “You don’t know what you have or what you’ve already given me.”

  “Because you made me forget?”

  He released my hair and picked up the towel, not moving from where he stood but starting to dry what my clothes hadn’t already absorbed. “I haven’t been able to do that to you.”

  “But you’ve tried.”

  “Of course. That night by your car, and,” he leaned back in, his eyes meeting mine, “every time I’ve looked at you like this since.”

  You look at me like this every night. Despite how chillingly blue they were, his eyes had a deceptive warmth that threatened to pull me in. I turned away. “...And when you succeed?” Do I want to know the answer?

  “Mmm, there’s so many fun possibilities.” His arms wrapped around me and he pulled over the edge of the counter, against him. “But don’t let me…” He kissed up my neck and I tensed as his lips moved across where he bit me. “...I want you….” He was breathing heavier and his kisses were starting to have teeth. I could still smell Paul’s blood on his breath. This conversation had briefly distracted me from the hunger, but I could feel it returning. “...not the version of you I’d force you to be.” He certainly knew the right things to say, he could seem so sincere.

  His mouth reached mine and he bit my lower lip hard, blood quickly pooling against my gums. He kissed me and was quick to slip his tongue in my mouth to collect it. I bit down when he went for seconds and he paused, our lips still touching as he growled.

  One of his hands returned to the back of my head and he used his thumb to pry open my mouth. His hips pinned me against the vanity and I could feel his hard dick on my stomach. His blood was now in my mouth, collecting in the spit he was forcing us to swap. He deserved worse, but I made him bleed this time. It felt like a win, however small.

  He gripped the bottom of my jaw and tilted my head back as he pulled away. “If you’re gonna bite me, you better fucking mean it. Swallow,” he commanded, like I was a dog he was trying to medicate.

  I knew he’d keep me there, even escalate, until I complied. He released me once I did and kissed my forehead. “Good.”

  He left the bathroom and I turned to face the sink. There was blood around my mouth, a mix of both of ours. I moved his clothes into the hamper so I could use the sink. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, spitting out whatever was left in my mouth.

  He returned, dressed, as I was finishing. “I still have an errand I need to run, I’ll be back soon. Take your meds.”

  I stayed in the bathroom until I heard the front door shut and lock. What the fuck were these last ten minutes? This entire night? The past several days? The last few weeks? He wants me confused, disoriented. To lose trust in my team. In myself. Maybe he really can’t use that trick on me. If so, he probably would’ve made me put all of the needles in on my own the night he brought me back here. And, he would’ve already known my name before Beth told him. He likes the power knowing my name gives him, he wouldn’t have kept calling me Marcus if he knew otherwise. But, if this isn’t related to The Diner, why take me back there?

  As I entered the kitchen, I realized I finally wasn’t hungry anymore. The drink and meds were sitting in their usual place on the island and I took them.

  The Vampire

  There was plenty of room in the backseat to fuck and I was still ready to go. Compelling Elizabeth for as long as I did was taxing, but I was sure I still had it in me to convince the driver to turn off their cams, that we were both seated quietly back here the whole ride. I’d yank down Michael’s pants, pull them into my lap, free my hard cock and–

  “You two having a nice night so far?” The driver looked back at us through the rear-view mirror. I am. She seems nice.

  “So far, so good. I work nights, too, so we’ll see how the rest of it turns out. Have your passengers been kind to you so far?” She smells nice.

  “Y’all are actually my first ride tonight! I had to miss the rush, sadly.” I should make her pull over, join us in the back seat. We’ll have a party tonight, after all.

  “I hope whatever delayed your start wasn’t something awful.” Michael removed his fingers from between mine but I grabbed his hand before he could pull it away. I briefly applied pressure – my way of saying ‘no.’

  “Nothing like that! Babysitter had to cancel, but I’m lucky to have found someone else so short notice.”

  “They’re lucky to have you out here working so hard for them.”

  “Thanks! You know my night job, what’s yours?”

  All sorts of things. “What would you assume I did? Feel free to stereotype me, you won’t offend.”

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  She peeked at me through the mirror as traffic allowed. “That means it’s either something really obvious or totally unexpected. Nothing in between. Stereotype… It’d be a weird time for you to be in town if you worked at the docks but most of the bars have already closed. You could be a bouncer?”

  Decent guess, that would also be on my list of assumptions.

  “Or… maybe you sew tutus and just can’t sleep at night.”

  Hah. “One of those is correct.” Neither of them are right, though I’ve bounced several people out of Jonestown. “But I won’t tell you which one.”

  “It’s rare to meet someone who doesn’t have at least two jobs in this city. So, I’m just gonna assume you do both!” Adorable.

  “I often use my partner as the mannequin when I’m adding the finishing touches. They look so pretty in a tutu.” I glanced over to Michael. They were just as lost in their thoughts as they were in the bathroom. What are you thinking so intensely about? Are you upset that I know your name? That I compelled someone you care about? That I’ve probably figured out what you do? Mmm, is it because I touched your cock?

  “I knew it!” She pulled up to the abandoned house I used as my address and we got out. I lifted Michael and carried them the rest of the way home, their hand still trapped in mine.

  They went for a shower as soon as we got back. The apartment still smelled lightly of Michael’s adrenaline but I could handle it at this level. I waited until I heard them pull the curtain closed to grab my laptop.

  An e-mail from the real estate agent: the abandoned home a few blocks over was now mine. I’d head over in a few days and make a list of what the place needed – even if it was a total tear-down – and go from there. Eventually, this entire section of the neighborhood would be mine and what couldn’t be renovated would either be replaced by new builds or have the land split up between the surrounding homes.

  I’d move to a different neighborhood once the major work started. Not only would the noise be hard to live with during the hours I sleep, this apartment complex would be a tear-down, too. Another building I had in the neighborhood was finally on the schedule to be demolished, and that would be a few weeks from now.

  I finished responding to emails and caught up on group chats for various teams and projects. Robbie had a lot of it handled and I addressed anything that was outstanding or pending my input specifically. I locked the laptop away again and got up to check on Michael – the water was still going but they hadn’t moved for a bit.

  I opened the shower curtain and they were slumped against the wall in some state of unconsciousness. They didn’t fall, I would’ve heard it. “Michael?” Nothing. But they’re breathing. They still had blood on them, so they must’ve crashed soon after they got in. I took my shirt off and leaned into the shower.

  It became apparent very quickly that I couldn’t finish cleaning them up like this without making a bigger mess. I stripped down and lifted them off the floor to avoid dragging them across the rough tile. I sat them down about a foot from the wall so I could get in behind them. Some of their hair still had shampoo in it and I rinsed that out first.

  I loaded the rag with soap and washed their face and neck. A bruise now stretched from the back of their ear to their shoulder; it seemed painful but cleaning the site didn’t wake them. I leaned them forward and cleaned their shoulders and back, then pulled them against my chest. I kissed their neck like I’d wanted to at the diner, the wound hot against my lips.

  A human’s mind and body can only take so much abuse. I know I should be more gentle with them, but I don’t want to be. I easily took as much blood from them tonight as I had the first time. Their body handled it this well because they have my blood in their system. They would recover faster from this bite and tolerate me feeding from them even better the next time.

  I scrubbed the few areas of blood down their chest that the water hadn’t already rinsed off, then started at their shoulders and worked down their front. They took a deep breath as I moved to their thigh and their eyes opened shortly after. “Almost done.”

  Michael became more alert as I finished washing them. I helped them get as dry as I could without removing them from the shower floor. Their hair would be its own challenge; I didn’t want to hurt them by trying to brush it myself so I passed them their hairbrush. I watched them work through the knots while I dried myself off, and stopped them before they tied it back.

  “Leave it down.” Re-braiding it would take them a while and I wanted to play with their hair later, anyway.

  I finished drying them off once I helped them to their feet, then followed them to bed in case they stumbled. They got settled under the covers. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Only part of the apartment had been cleaned. I’d requested their services for the hallway, bathroom, and bedroom, but the main room was untouched. I checked my phone before I stored it in the safe, then began a cursory cleaning of the kitchen.

  My eyes were drawn to the knife block – one was missing. I checked the sink, just in case, but it was just the cup. I briefly considered that one of the cleaners could have made off with it, but I knew better. Fuck, they could’ve hidden it anywhere. It was unlikely they’d come up to me with a weapon, it was stashed somewhere they knew I’d bring myself to them.

  I hurried to our bedroom and ripped the covers off of them. Their hands were empty and I held them while I searched for it under them, under the pillow. They grumbled as I leaned over them. “Where’s the knife, Michael?”

  “Inside you.” They growled, softly. I doubt they had woken up.

  As frustrated as I was with the current dilemma, I wanted more moments like this that gave me a taste of the virulence within them. “You’ll get me again one day,” I said, and kissed their forehead.

  I returned to the main room and retraced our last few days. I’d been with them constantly since I came home from the rave, so it narrowed the window to between when I took them down from the rope and then. They were fully out of commission through the next day, so they most likely hid the knife after I left for the club.

  I stood at the front door as though I’d just walked in and I scanned the room. They were sitting in the chair furthest from the door at that time. I carefully searched the crevices then lifted the cushion. Ah, my boning knife. Good choice. I washed the knife and cup then gave the kitchen a good wipe-down before I called it a day..

  I got in behind Michael and pulled them close. How should I discipline you for this? I pet their chest while I considered some options. You keep trying to leave but your place is right here. You belong with me, against me, to me. I moved their hair over their shoulder so we were fully skin-on-skin. They hadn’t shaved since I brought them back home and I stroked their thick scruff.

  A finger brushed their lower lip and they slightly opened their mouth.Do you think I’m giving you more of my blood? Are you asking for more? I made a finger bleed and pressed it against the center of their lips. They opened their mouth and captured the tip of my finger. You want it, want me. I pushed it in all the way to the first knuckle before I slid back out. I returned with two fingers and they sucked on those, too. If only you’d give my cock the same attention.

  I noticed their lotion on the nightstand; I spread some between their ass cheeks and on my hard cock. I wanted them. I’d have them. But not like this. I carefully repositioned us – them on their stomach, me on top with my hips pressed against their ass. I continued to feed them as I slowly rocked behind them…

  Shit, when did I fall asleep? Michael was still under me, where they should be. Their skin was so warm and I didn’t want to get out of bed. I knew I had to, I couldn’t risk drinking from them again so soon. They didn’t stir when I got off of them.

  I cleaned myself up and headed downstairs. An engine idled somewhere outside; being among so many abandoned houses, this was a prime spot for making sales and dumping junk. Or, if Michael was Intelligence, this could be their team. I’d check it out and, once that was sorted, take the bike into town. I wanted to get an outfit or two in their size that they could wear outside of the apartment.

  An older red truck was parked at one of the houses further down the street. The lights were off but the engine was running. At least one person was in the front of the cab but it was hard to tell at this angle.

  I hopped on the bike and only drove a street over. I parked in another driveway and looped back around on foot so I could approach the truck from the opposite side of the street. The cab was now empty and the occupant, a man, was running toward, then into, my apartment complex. Interesting.

  The intruder knocked on doors inside. What a strange, time-consuming, method – there were so many doors and ours was on the top floor. This noise woke Michael, their footsteps now shuffled around carefully in our apartment. The man went up a level and I quietly entered the building.

  I took a hall to a different staircase so I could maintain some distance. Why are you here? How will Michael react to someone being in the building? Does Michael know him? I wanted to be here for everything.

  He went up the next flight of stairs, which took him to our level. “M?” he called out.

  Shit, it is someone they know.

  “Over here!”

  Don’t tell-- well, too late.

  “P sent me.”

  Who is P? Peach? Is he trying the do-- yeah, idiot, the door is locked.

  “How the fuck does this door work?”

  “If I knew, I would’ve solved my own problem.”

  Do you still try the door when I’m gone?

  “I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave,” Michael added.

  Our guest is free to leave but not free to go.

  “Not without you.”

  You can certainly try to take them.

  “I told P to wait for a reason.”

  Were you using some sort of code while we were at the diner? Did ordering water have a meaning? Or saying you weren’t hungry?

  “You don’t want to be here when he gets back,” Michael added a warning.

  Correct.

  “I’m not paid to take your orders.”

  A hired hand for a suicide mission. Maybe P knows that. Maybe Michael said more during their escape than they let on. Why else wouldn’t P come themself?

  “You can’t get paid if you’re dead.” Won’t. When.

  “I’m going to run down and get a few tools, see what’ll open this door.”

  “Be smart. When you get downstairs, get in your car and go. This isn’t worth whatever he’s paying you.”

  He. Not Peach. Someone above Michael in command? A relative? A partner?

  I could let Michael think their rescuer chose to leave and pretend I didn’t know about this encounter. But, I preferred for them to assume I always had an eye on them, even when I couldn’t. I followed the man back to his truck in case he took their advice. Instead, he grabbed a tool box and crowbar from the truck’s bed and re-entered the building. Again, I kept a level between us, at first.

  “I’m back, M.”

  “You should’ve left.”

  Instead he gets to find out what happens to those who don’t listen.

  “I’m going to try the pry bar first.”

  Oh good luck, but I don’t want to have to pay to fix whatever you might actually damage. It was time to let him know I was here. “I won't use the pry bar ‘til later.”

  “Shit!” The man turned to face me and swung the crowbar in my direction.

  I grabbed his forearm and pushed him against the wall. I held him there while I unlocked the door then, after taking the crowbar from him, threw him inside. I picked up the tool box and stepped in after him.

  “They told you to leave.” I placed their things down near the door and locked us in. “I suppose since you went through all this trouble, you should at least meet them.”

  He stood, no worse for wear yet and ready to fight. He tried to intimidate me with aggressive eye contact as he maintained a distance. A mistake. I felt the mental click. ?You don’t want to fight me. Now, take a seat in that chair and don’t get up until I say you can.?

  I broke eye contact and rifled through the tools he brought me. Some had years of use and others were somewhat new. Most of them were quality. Their screwdriver was not. “What…what did you give me?”

  “As if I’d waste anything on you.” But, it’ll do, for now – I grabbed the screwdriver and headed to the couch.

  “I can’t feel my fucking legs, man!”

  “That’s not good.” He could feel his legs, he just couldn’t move them in a way that allowed him to stand up. Semantics matter. I gripped the handle tightly in my hand while I considered my options. “Before we get too concerned...” I placed the metal end of the screwdriver against his thigh and moved it over his pants.

  “What are you do-” I raised my arm and stabbed the screwdriver straight down into his leg. His screams would easily be heard the next street over if we weren’t alone out here.

  He reached for the handle and I briefly captured him again. ?Leave it in.?

  I took the entire tool box with me to the couch to finish looking through it. There were a few items in there I wanted to keep, and several others that I might use on the man next. I directed Michael to the spot next to me and handed them the box once they sat down.

  “These are very nice, thank you.” The man briefly scowled; his discomfort otherwise dominated his expression. His hand hadn’t left the handle. “Looks like you can feel your leg after all. Do you need me to take a look at the other one?”

  “Don’t you fucking touch me!” I didn’t have to. Call it malicious compliance, but I knew I would enjoy the minutes ahead. I placed my hand on Michael’s leg as if I had a hold of the intruder’s.

  “As you wish.” The man looked at me with a confused worry, and I had him as soon as his eyes met mine. ?You can pull it out of your leg, now.? I stayed focused on him while he pulled the tool’s shaft out and quickly gave him new instructions: ?Take the screwdriver and jab it into your other leg.?

  He followed my orders perfectly. I squeezed Michael’s leg as the tip pierced the intruder’s; the man screamed again as if I were stabbing him myself. I had plunged it in further, though, there was more blood between the handle and what he’d submerged in his leg.

  ?Deeper, you have another two or three inches to go.? Once the tool was where I wanted it, I told him, ?don’t remove it,? and released him again.

  This ability took a toll even when I was at my best. I hadn’t eaten yet this morning. Neither had Michael, their stomach informed me. I couldn’t do this all night, they just needed to believe I was capable of it. “I have questions. Are you going to answer them or will you continue being difficult?” I retrieved the pair of pliers from the tool box that I’d been eyeing earlier.

  “I’ll fucking tell you!” the man shouted. “Shit ain’t worth all this!”

  That’s more like it. “Who told you to come here?”

  “He goes by P. Told me his name was M.” He gestured at Michael. “Never gave me real names.” That’s okay, I’ll have P’s name soon.

  “What were P’s instructions?”

  “Wait for you to leave. Find M. Don’t leave without him.” You’ll be leaving without them, possibly more.

  “And once you had M?”

  “Give him a ride home.”

  “Ooh, where’s home?” Don’t say the Meadowbrook address.

  “Some apartment complex on the other side of the city.” Fuck, probably the Meadowbrook address.

  “Wrong. This is their home.” Where did Michael live before?

  “Look, man, I don’t know what is and isn’t! It’s a job, I’m following orders.”

  I have a few more orders for you, since you like them so much. “What do you have to do to get paid for this job?”

  “Text P, he’d meet us at the complex and pay me when he saw M.”

  Time to meet P.

  I returned the pliers to the tool box and stood. “He’s paid me for jobs be- no.. no! I’m cooperating!”

  I locked onto him again. ?Yes, you’re doing a good job. You can get up.? He stood effortlessly, as though it had been an option this entire time. He continued to pull at the screwdriver, but I liked it better still inside him. “We'll take your truck to the apartment and you’ll text P once we get there.” I opened the apartment’s door.

  “How did you-”

  “Let’s go.” I used his shoulder to push him through the door and shut it. Oh yeah – the crowbar. I retrieved the tool from where I’d sat it near the door and locked Michael into the apartment.

  We descended the stairs; the man groaned and gasped as he shifted his weight for every step. “Do you have a family? I wanted to incentivize his compliance.

  “A wife and two kids.”

  “How are you gonna explain these injuries to your wife? Would the truth disappoint her?”

  “I tell her enough.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Willie. Yours?”

  “I don’t want to have to kill you, Willie.”

  A little hope would make the drive over smoother, but he was dead as soon as he entered my complex. I removed the keys from his pocket and had him sit shotgun. The crowbar was returned to the bed of the truck and I got behind the wheel. I made it perfectly clear how any attempt to fight me while I drove would end.

  On the way, he told me about his kids – two sons – and how he met his wife. He’d moved onto how he got started on these as-needed jobs when we pulled into the familiar complex. I parked in one of the few empty spots and shut the truck off.

  The keys left the cab with me when I hopped out. “Scoot over to the driver’s seat and let P know you’re here with M. Once you show me you sent that message, you’ll trade me the phone for your keys and you can go home to your wife and kids.”

  He typed a message and showed me his screen. I nodded my approval and showed him the keys. We made the trade: he gave me his phone and I shoved his truck key into his carotid artery. While he noisily dealt with that, I retrieved the crow bar from the bed of his truck.

  His screams grew louder when he saw I was coming back and he grabbed my arms to try to stop me. I shoved the flat end of the bar into his open mouth. I pushed the tool against his face with enough pressure to tilt his head back then forced the bar down deeper. Organs and bones weren’t an obstacle for my strength and I kept shoving it down until just the curved tip poked out of his mouth, like a tongue. I removed the key from his neck – how kind of you to hold onto it for me – and started his truck.

  Before I left, I wanted to secure access to his phone. His fingerprint unlocked his phone, so once I was back in I disabled the lock and put it in airplane mode. I would go through his device later to see exactly what P said to him.

  Elizabeth matters to Michael in some way. Does P? P hired this bozo for a reason. Whatever three-letter agency they work for either isn’t sending someone, or isn’t moving fast enough for P. He wants Michael alive, maybe the agency doesn’t. And if P is their partner? Not is. Was. I’ll bring P home and make Michael watch me eat him. Fuck, I need to leave. If I meet P tonight, I’ll eat him now.

  P would already be on his way. I hurried out of the parking lot and into the woods. The trees and brush ended at another street and I called a rideshare to my location. Most of the front of my shirt and pants had blood spray or splatter. My shirt had a large spot on it, likely from when I leaned over Willie to start the truck. A black car pulled up and I made eye contact with the driver immediately. ?Turn all of your cameras off. My clothes and skin look clean and normal to you tonight.?

  The car pulled up to the driveway. I got out and had them roll the front window down so I could hand them a cash tip. When they looked up at me to thank me, I made eye contact again. ?Get out.? I took as much blood as I needed then sent them on their way.

  Michael was in the kitchen when I entered the apartment. I didn’t care about what dripped down the hallway but I didn’t want Willie’s blood in our home. I got the cleaner from the cabinet below the sink and thoroughly sprayed everything the man contacted. My boots had his blood on them so I soaked them, too – those would stay in the sink until I could properly clean them.

  Michael’s quiet, as usual. What do they think about tonight’s events?

  I went for a shower. The soiled clothes were unsalvageable and I’d have to toss them – they sat in the sink for now. I let the hot water do most of the initial clean-up; the blood ran off of me and swirled into the drain, a deep red at first that slowly ran clear.

  Michael came in as I was massaging the shampoo in my hair. The counter creaked, as if they’d leaned against it. Do they have questions? They’re probably concerned about P. Maybe I should let them assume the worst. “Don’t worry, none of it’s mine.” Nothing. “I didn’t kill him, whoever P is. We didn’t even cross paths.” Still nothing. “You don’t seem worried about it, though, so maybe I should have.”

  Silence agai– did they bring a snack? I pulled the curtain back and studied them. They sat fully on the countertop and leaned against the wall behind them. A nearly empty bag of almonds sat on their lap. They normally had some of my blood by now; the cravings must have started, if not brought on by Willie bleeding in the living room.

  “Coming in?” I also have cravings.

  “...No.” Fuck, don’t leave.

  “Stay, we need to have that talk.” They seemed annoyed but stayed put. “You should know why you’re here, even if you can’t accept it.” I quickly washed the shampoo from my hair before I continued, and used that pause to think about where I wanted to start.

  “That first night, I was just looking for something to do before I went home.” Or, someone. “You caught my eye.” A tourist in the middle of the street, all by herself. “Wrong place and time, some might say.” Right place and time, for me. “You knew I was up to no good, and I know you were just trying to brush me off.” I wanted you, you weren’t going to brush me off. “But your sarcastic, flirty approach had me hooked.” You still have me. I can’t free the hook from my mouth so I tie you up with the line, instead. “Unfortunately – for me, at least – I wasn’t able to grab you that night. I can’t tell you with certainty how that night would have gone if I’d gotten my way.” Though I’m quite certain. “I would have bitten you. Maybe we’d have fooled around a bit before I let you go.” If I let you go.

  “We?” If I’d gotten my way, yes. I didn’t know until the next night just how stubborn you are, though, that wouldn’t have stopped me.

  “There’d have been some fooling around.” I tried not to linger too long on that thought. At least, not now; I’d revisit it later. “I had an address for you that I checked out the next night, I’m sure you know how that went. I didn’t expect to run into you again, I figured that was that. But there you were the next night.” Typically I’d say you make your own luck, but I’d consider myself lucky that night. “A different aesthetic from our first encounter – whether you’re trans or genderfluid or–”

  “I’m.. a guy.”

  Of course you are. I could’ve asked. I had new questions, but those could be asked later. “It was unmistakably you. And, the way you reacted when you heard my voice again, that brief adrenaline rush…” I still get a little hard when I think about it. “I finally got to see that stoicism you wield so well crack for just a moment. I wanted to shove my hands into that crack,” I wanted to shove something somewhere, “and see how wide I could make it.”

  “You wanted to kill me.”

  Want.

  “Don’t romanticize it.”

  There’s that mouth. You know I’ll come out there and shut it. “I want to kill you at least twice a day, Michael.” And will at least twice every day until you die. “You get me so worked up.” The thoughts that go through my mind. “No one that suspects or knows what I’m capable of has been so defiant or talked to me the way you do–”

  “More people should.”

  I turned the water off. “--and lived.” You’re mine.

  “Why am I alive?”

  Michael attempted to leave the room as soon as I got out of the shower. Too late. I picked him up and sat him on the counter, my body positioned to block his way out. “Because I wanted more. Want.” Fuck, I said that last bit out loud.

  “I don’t have ‘more’. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

  “You don’t know what you have or what you’ve already given me.” What I could still take from you. What I will take from you. Right now, I wanted to shut him up. I could feel his breath on my lips as I brought us closer.

  “Because you made me forget?” Oh. Of course. He saw how the conversation with Elizabeth ended. Why wouldn’t he think I was doing that to him, too? I dried myself off while I considered my options. I didn’t tell him everything, but I never lied to him.

  “I haven’t been able to do that to you.” How will you use this information?

  “But you’ve tried.”

  “Of course.” I can’t stop myself. “That night by your car, and every time I’ve looked at you like this since.” I couldn’t control him but I could still stare into those eyes. Behind the pale green was a similar inhumanity to the one I carried, he just kept his deeper. Mine was malicious, extroverted. His was passive, better able to blend in. I wanted his darkness for myself just as much as I wanted him.

  “And when you succeed?” Yes, when. Are you finally admitting defeat? Do you accept that you’re mine? Even if it’s little by little, I will have all of you.

  “Mmm, there’s so many fun possibilities.” I could take you now. You couldn’t stop me. I held him close and kissed his neck. I purposefully chose the side I’d bitten and teased the wound with my lips. I couldn’t feed from him again so soon, but I wanted to. I wanted him to want it, to want me. “But don’t let me, I want you…” Some of my control was starting to slip. “...not the version of you I’d force you to be.”

  I pressed my lips against his and held his bottom lip between my teeth. I knew I shouldn’t but I sank my fangs in, anyway. Blood entered his mouth and, while I kissed him, I forced my tongue in to taste it. He let me in. Mmm. I was careful not to lick the wounds. Don’t want you to heal too quickly.

  I slipped my tongue in a second time and– fuck! He bit down hard and fast. I wedged my thumb into the corner of his mouth and pried his lower jaw open, growling as I freed myself –- had I not intervened he would have bitten off the tip of my tongue. I pushed him against the cabinet. It took everything in me not to take him right then, to remind him what happens when he misbehaves.

  “If you’re gonna bite me, you better fucking mean it.” He has my blood in his mouth and he fucking knows it this time. I held his mouth shut. “Swallow.” Will he figure out I’ve been giving him my blood?

  It took him a moment, and I would’ve stood there as long as I had to, but he swallowed and I relaxed my grip. “Good.” I gave him a kiss on his forehead. I can be gentle if you do what I want.

  I swiped the phones from the counter and checked my messages on the way to my closet. I had a new text from The Doctor:

  『23:18: Available for the next few hours?』

  Shit, that was almost an hour ago. I replied:

  『00:05 If you still need me.』

  『00:06: Be there in 15.』

  Huh, that’s quick.

  『00:06: I’ll meet you up the street.』

  I threw on clothes and sat Michael’s daily meds on the island. He was still in the bathroom when I was ready to head down. I wanted to come up behind him and finish what we started. “I still have an errand I need to run, I’ll be back soon. Take your meds.”

  It took more than just a few hours, as The Doctor said it would. It was nearly six in the morning and the sky was starting to get lighter when he dropped me off in the complex’s parking lot. After tonight’s visitor, this was a lot longer than I wanted to be gone.

  The Doctor was conducting an interview with a doctor that would potentially work for him after hours. She interviewed well and it seemed likely he’d hire her. He wasn’t old but wanted to retire eventually.

  On the way there and back, I talked to him about Michael. Whatever Michael was a part of wasn’t his business, and I left that out. He was still his patient and we had a mutual interest in keeping him alive.

  The Doctor was both disappointed and intrigued. Why would I keep someone I still hadn’t found a way to control, especially if he could escape again? How, knowing me, had I managed to avoid killing him for this long?

  I got a lecture when I told him I’d been feeding him my blood with all of that in mind. He still asked about any benefits and side effects I’d noticed since I started. He also asked if he could have a sample of Michael’s blood – he wanted to run some tests, mostly to satisfy his own curiosity – and promised to share whatever he learned.

  I said I’d think about it.