She sighed in frustration. Looking at Mr. Watson she could not believe what she had just heard. He was her favourite butcher and her neighbour; the words that came out of his mouth had appalled her.
“Are you sure you’re all out of chicken blood, Mr. Watson? Completely out of it? You do know that I have prepared the recipe a day in advance, don’t you?” she cried, pushing her hair back from her face. “My parents are leaving for their trip today. I already told you that I will need it!”
She couldn’t believe that Mr. Watson sold her reserved blood to some random guy who came to him in the middle of the night. Her parents were always busy; they never had time for her. She tried desperately to gain their attention- in whichever way she could, this time it was food- but their eyes went as far as Levi’s achievements. Sure, her brother was the genius and loving towards his little sister, but his light of brilliance dimmed the tiny spark of talent his little sister had to show.
“Sorry,” Mr. Watson mumbled, scratching his beard, “I completely forgot about that. I believe I had too much to drink.”
“I cannot believe this!” she yelled in frustration.
Boy did she hate it when Mr. Watson got drunk. Whenever he did, his personality and demeanour took a three-sixty degree flip. Glaring at Mr. Watson in the utmost fury, she, not wanting to waste another moment, stomped her way to find another butcher.
Delaroth had spat the very moment his throat made contact with the awful blood he had bought that night. ‘Al naibii de care sânge de fricos!’ he had cursed under his breath. He had not wanted to drink any more of it however, necessity overrides want. Cursing the Oracle, he drank it up and tried not to vomit it all out.
With the blood in his system, he had felt an ounce of refreshment. The blood was indeed very awful. Nevertheless, he could go without feeling hunger or thirst for a week or two, now that he was sated.
The sun was up, and he was hiding from it, in a dark alleyway. He cursed the Realm for having equal measures of darkness and light. These days, he cursed everything around him.
Resting his head against the wall, he exhaled. He couldn’t comprehend why it was so hard to find the one person he was destined to meet. Was he attempting too much? He shut his eyes and hummed a song the Oracle had forced him to listen. It was the only song that had stayed with him, even though he had forgotten the name.
He recalled the earlier event he had experienced. In his thirst for blood, he had felt a vague feeling he had never felt before. As he had neared the butcher, he bought the blood from, that vague feeling had grown stronger. He had intentionally ignored it. Never a rational vampire would he be, when the thirst for blood is all he sees. It was an Old Saying.
When he was standing on the road outside the butcher’s shop, he had felt it the strongest. As he distanced himself from the shop, that feeling had gone away.
A realization struck at that moment. Perhaps, it was a possibility- a rare one, perhaps he would find her there. He got up and raced out the alley, but upon meeting with sunlight, he retreated to his place as a cat would when it comes to contact with water.
“Dracu,” he cursed and almost banged his clenched fist against the wall. That would have been disastrous. The building would have been a mass of rubble.
Suddenly, a feeling surged within him and he fell to the ground. It wasn’t rage or fear nor was it anything he had ever felt before. It was different from what he had felt last night. His heart was raging, his blood was pumping up, and he felt light-headed. Was it the blood?
Getting up slowly, his instinct was flaring. His grey eyes had a flicker of red in them. His muscles tightened up. Three words were glaring at the back of his mind-
Protect your Own
[Listening to Heart Vacancy by The Wanted, while writing]
I'm not sure if this chapter is good. Tell me what you think.