I heard Chopin playing. 

My eyes darted towards the kitchen counter where my phone sounded off a poor facsimile of my favourite melodious piano piece. That ringtone was designated for only one person so I knew at once who would have been calling, yet I dashed over and snatched up the phone eagerly. I didn't answer. I still couldn't bring myself to do it. It was the third time he had called since my leave, each time I just could not answer, and each time he hadn't left a message.  

Blipitty blop, my phone chimed.  

Except this time, it seemed. I saw the voicemail icon flash on the display and I stood there for a moment before accessing the message.  

“Viktor,” It was a testament to his abilities, that his voice was still so compelling when reproduced electronically. I immediately longed to be near him, experience the powerful aura he exuded, and watch him, and listen to his voice. After the briefest of pauses he continued with, “I must inform you of movements concerning important and grave matters now at hand. Your return is crucial.” 

His accent was noticeable in the message, meaning that Alabaster Carrington was anxious about something dire. I set the phone down and replayed the message in my head, using my vivid memory to enhance his voice to true sound. I felt the slightest of chills shimmy up my spine. The fact that the he did not elaborate upon the situation spoke of the delicate and furtive nature of it. I quickly assumed that whatever mention he might have made on a mobile phone would indefinitely be compromising. I knew little of recent events since my departure, so I was at a loss even when guessing. I slipped the phone into my pocket.  

Perhaps my return was overdue. It had been nearly a year since that day, not long enough for me to set aside my little rebellion, but long enough to miss him, that much I knew now. On some level, I was being childish, but every child passes through this rite at some point in the search of independence and maturity. While I was mundane, I never had thoughts of anything of the kind, but now in this new world it is like a plague, an inundation of insidious revolt. How the parents of today ever handle it, I will never know. I've finally succumb to my own brand of mutiny, but by choice. I needed to step out of the current and re-evaluate a number of things. I've still a few things I'd like to figure out, but this break from the Dark Society has become more than a vacation, out living its purpose.

I heard a door slam upstairs, breaking my reverie. I heard the sloppy gait of Richard's father crossing overhead. His voice bellowed out above. Dealing with noisy neighbours would be enough for some to move out, but the humanness of it intrigued me. Tonight however, it grated on my nerves. Richard responded with a tone that I could sense was thick with sarcasm. Voices and tempers rose instantly from both parties, like a vicious and perpetual cycle of emotional interference feeding upon itself. I decided that I would vacate the premises and head downtown to the only scene that I could stand to frequent alongside the local wildlife. I quickly pulled on an outfit appropriate for any other night owl in this small city, comfortable and non-restraining for any exuberant activity I may pursue.  

As I slipped out I could hear the exchange of words between father and son like they were daggers thrown. I was at the edge of the property when my ears picked up the distinct sound of flesh striking flesh. I froze mid step. The sound reached my ears twice more. I also heard the sound of Richard's shrill response. He was now hysterical. I listened intently and knew what was coming next. I deftly hopped over the gated fence in the backyard landing in the back alleyway. I quickly put some distance behind me and stood as still as a shadow two houses down. 

I saw Richard clamour across the back yard and burst through the gate with some difficulty. It was dark, half moon partially obscured by clouds, and many of the backyard lights from the neighbours weren't on. The boy ran from his house blindly and carelessly. He was wearing a tee shirt and shorts; with only socks on his feet. His father slammed the back door and locked it, cursing savagely. Richard rounded the corner at the end of the ally and tripped; he slid and tumbled on the loose gravel. I saw him scuttle back to his feet and disappear from my view.  

I darted after him and rounded the corner before I realised I was following. I paused, watching him careen towards the street like an errant and clumsy missile. He was chaos waiting to happen.  

Blood.  

The smell of it wafted up from where he had wiped out. I glanced down and saw that I was standing in the midst of his path of impact. I could tell that the blood he left here began to trail after him in small but numerous droplets making it terribly easy to follow him. It was delicious, seasoned heavily with testosterone and turmoil. I lurched forward as he pinwheeled to a stop and glanced back. I was already enrobed within the shadows spilling around me at the alley’s entrance when his eyes dared a fleeting glance behind him. Richard was in shock, face already bruising darkly at his left cheekbone, and tears flowing freely down his face dotting his tee shirt. No sooner had he stopped, he darted off again.  

This was a reasonably quiet community, but it was still early enough in the evening that Richard could stumble into any situation. After another block the boy slowed to a fast walk. I swiftly and silently shadowed him as he approached a park tucked away behind a row of houses on a slight rise. There was a playground, basketball court, and an open field beyond. This is where he was headed.  

Richard had a cell phone in his hand, remarkably. I was surprised that he hadn't dropped it or damaged it during his fall, but it was ringing now. The sound of it startled Richard and he leapt sideways. The phone tumbled to the ground and he scrambled to snatch it back up. From the distance I was keeping, trailing him, my eyes could easily distinguish his face in the glow of the device as he read the call display.  

“Lindsay?” He answered. “Oh, I'm so glad—Hey, calm down.” 

As he listened to the caller he stood and glanced around, not seeing. He was focused entirely on the voice on the phone. 

“What's wrong? What? Slow down Linz!” He listened again perplexed as the girl on the other end spoke to him.  

“How could I forget that? It was—yeah, I know. I told you.  I promised that next time we would use one. I have some now and you never let me..." He trailed off. He held out the phone away from his face and glared at it incredulously and shook his head.  

“You're just joshing me, I know it.”  

The peculiar choice of words caught me off guard; it had been awhile since I'd heard that expression. He switched hands and put the phone back to his ear.  

“No. It can't be. Take another one.” He said after another moment. The shock was evident even in the dark. “Lindsay, it was just one time! It must be wrong, get another test—what? Then steal another one!”  

Denial welled up in his throat in the form of a dry laugh; he tugged at his hair with his other hand. 

 “No. No, no no! I don't believe it. Lindsay, don't tell me this, not now. Not tonight, I'm sorry but I can't deal with this.” I heard the vocal attack burst from the speaker of his phone. He pounded the phone with his thumb and flung it at the ground. He jumped and stomped on it with a foot. At the third impact he winced and fell to his knees. The boy grabbed the phone and flung it madly as far as he could. It landed in pieces, one of which landed within feet of where I stood. Traces of his blood outlined a long broken shard of its plastic body.  

The sharp pang of thirst stung the inside of my throat.  

There was enough blood that I could taste it in the air, from the broken piece alone. The jagged shard was sizeable enough that I anticipated the full impact from the wound to reach me in the next few seconds. If he truly was haemophiliac, the bleeding wouldn't stop. I needed to leave immediately. I had to flee the area like Richard had his father.  

I did nothing of the sort, naturally.  

My teeth were clenched as my incisors slid out to their full length. I flexed my fingers as my nails ached to dig into his flesh. My groin also reacted, swelling in arousal. If I had a human heart, it would have sunk in that moment knowing that one appetite was compounding the other exponentially.  

I was going to destroy this boy.  

The full flavour of his aroma reached me and I whined like a kicked dog with the pain. I remained in place, but I felt gravity switch direction by ninety degrees and everything pulled at me and pushed me towards Richard's body.  

I drew upon immense strength and decided that in order to control myself I would compromise. I would approach, while keeping a tight grip on my urges and walk upright and calmly towards the boy. The danger was that I would be approaching, leaving the door open for any weakness. But I was unable turn away; everything my senses told me lured me towards him. 

I stood to my full height and stepped stiffly one step at a time towards Richard. As I closed, I kept my breaths as shallow as possible. I was so preoccupied with self control that I only realized when I was within a few feet that the boy was curled up with tears threatening to stream across his cheeks. He showed no other sign of movement, aside from short quick breaths. 

The heavy iron tinged scent of his blood infused my senses, nearly overwhelming me. I sank to my knees while I retained what little control I had left. I blinked away the desperate cravings and I saw that he was now looking up at me. His confused expression was the only thing I could focus on. His eyes searched mine. I'm not sure what he found there, but he must have confused the look on my face for some humane compassion. Fearful of any break in my composure, I did nothing as tears flooded his eyes and he reached out and latched onto me. His arms slid around me and he pulled himself so close and so tight that I thought he would suffocate himself. Rigid and uncertain, I let him weep and claw at me amidst a torrent of emotion.  

Slowly, I began to reciprocate the embrace. I cradled him with my arms while one hand rubbed his back along his spine and over his shoulders and my other cupped his head and stroked his short thick hair. I squeezed him tight and breathed deeply. He was sobbing openly now and his grip on me relaxed as his body collapsed into mine. I supported him as his emotions exploded out of him in waves and I withstood each surge. Richard nuzzled his face into my neck and breathed deep trembling breaths. His heartbeat thundered within his body. My fingers were caressing his neck up into his hair behind his ears. I could feel the blood rushing through his veins, and I was tracing their paths beneath his skin with delicate paths of my own on the surface of his body.  

I was calming him and comforting him. I was even seducing him into a state of complete and sedated oblivion. He was stripped completely bare from his emotional breakdown. 

When my lips and tongue lightly tasted the supple and tight skin under his jaw he moaned. 

When my teeth sank into his flesh precisely puncturing his jugular, he bucked and grasped at my clothes—but there was little force behind it. He was weakened and I was mustering all my strength. 

We reached our own climaxes in tandem.