Possession

Chapter 2

Nick drove too fast, paying too little attention to the road. The moment he flicked on the radio he realized that it wasn't the right time for LaCroix' show and he flicked it off again without hearing more than a burst of sound. The frustration of spending time among mortals after his experience with the demon was proving to be too much.

He had to get home, away from the lure of human blood. He'd been lucky until now; these bouts of severe need and hunger had hit while he was alone and hadn't lasted nearly this long. This time, his need was exacerbated by the presence of humans, the very availability of blood. Even isolated in his car he was much too aware of the heartbeats of the other motorists and the blood coursing through their veins.

He looked up just in time to see the light. Cursing himself for not paying attention, he managed to stop reasonably close to the white line. A lone figure standing on the sidewalk jerked around to see the source of the squeal before turning back toward the building.

Her rapid heartbeat stood out, a high staccato above the muffled tympani of the drivers'. She was a tall girl, probably homeless, maybe a runaway, standing under the awning of the corner building. Her back was to Nick, and she seemed to be looking at something through the storefront's window.

Her thin, tan jacket whipped in the breeze. She wasn't dressed nearly warm enough for the crisp November night, but probably had nothing warmer. Probably had nothing but what was on her back.

So many runaways ended up thieves or prostitutes, either for money or dope. Their lives were wasted away, spent searching for the next scrap of food or the next fix. Maybe she had no family, no one to wonder or care why she was on the street so late at night, alone. As her jacket billowed, whipped by another gust of wind, Nick flipped the heater switch, thinking she might appreciate a warm ride to wherever she must be going. To where no one probably waited, and no one would miss her if she never arrived.

He watched her back as she peered through the window. She may be planning to steal whatever it was she was looking at, adrenaline causing her fast heartbeat. She was probably a thief. Maybe worse. She may lead a horrible, desolate life. Might eventually die a horrible, slow death.

But he'd be gentle, wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't frighten her. He'd strike quickly and cause as little pain as possible.

He'd sacrificed for so long, hadn't he? No human could understand the lure of what he'd so long ago given up. But now he needed it, needed her, so bad. Just this once.

Just one.

As he stared at her, the fantasy played out in his mind with startling reality. He could feel her warm flesh under his hands, her lean neck against his lips. The hot blood spilling down his throat was sweet and young. She gasped and shuddered in his embrace as his pull deepened. Nick moaned as he felt her long body go limp in his arms; he sobbed, nearly choking, as he drained the last drops of her life away.

The woman looked down the street behind Nick, frowning, then turned toward the Cadillac.

"No!" Nick pounded the steering wheel with his fists and tore his glowing eyes from the woman. The light blinked from yellow to red as he became aware of the angry honking behind him. Speeding through the red light, he barely cleared a little yellow hatchback he'd forced to a screeching stop in the middle of the intersection.

"No, no, no, no, no, no . . . ."

Nick jerked the car into the first opening he saw and stomped the brake. The driver who'd been behind him at the light laid on his horn as he passed the alleyway, leaving its echo ringing between the buildings. The rearview mirror reflected a pair of molten eyes he barely recognized.

He'd never make it home this way, there were too many temptations, too many easy marks on the street. And even if he did get there without ripping out someone's throat, what would he do? Tease himself with the flat taste of cow blood while his body screamed for something else, only to have this bloodlust flare again in a matter of hours, or sooner? He was afraid that next time it struck, he'd lose control and kill for it. Like he just almost had.

He needed human blood that wouldn't cost him any more of his soul than he'd already bartered away.

Nick hopped out of the Caddy as if the seat were on fire. As he slammed the door he looked around to be sure he was alone and found that, mercifully, no one could see him. Looking up, he thought flight and was instantly speeding through the Toronto sky toward the Raven.

Nicholas landed in an empty side-street next to the club, the smell of blood reaching him before he was even near the doors. He inhaled the sweet, coppery smell; the unique tang made his mouth ache for it. As he maneuvered himself across the dance floor, he thought every writhing body in the building somehow managed to rub up against him. A few of the women, human and vampire alike, tried to drape their arms around his neck and he impatiently threw them off, ignoring the curses that followed. The heartbeats of the mortal club-goers, mixed with the too-loud, thrumming music, tempted him to throw his hands over his ears. What if this were a mistake? So many mortals in the club tonight, so much blood . . . .

His need almost unbearable, he stalked up to the bar and leaned against it for support.

"Ah, Nicho--" Miklos' smile disappeared as he focused on Nick's face. For a few seconds he said nothing as he examined his latest customer. Finally, he motioned toward a glass. "The usual?"

"No." The word came out low and harsh. Miklos kept bovine blood in stock for Nicholas' infrequent visits, but cow blood hadn't eased his escalating craving in the last few weeks, and at this point it would be as sensible as giving a starving man a rubber steak.

Miklos raised an eyebrow and stared at LaCroix' son. When Nicholas didn't waver, he shrugged and produced a bottle. Nick tried to breathe slowly and calmly while the bartender poured the one thing he thought might stop him from going insane. Nick took the full goblet, threw his head back, and downed the contents in one swallow.

Not enough. Instead of soothing the burn, this first, thick taste only stoked the fire. As he shoved the empty glass toward Miklos, the stem cracked in his shaking hand.

"Nick, maybe you should--" Miklos was cut off as Nick lunged and swiped the bottle out of his hand. Before Nick had raised it to his lips, Miklos grabbed his arm and lowered his voice. "You seem to have something in your eye, my friend." Miklos' lips curved but he didn't smile.

Understanding, Nick willed his eyes back to blue and felt panic surge through him as it dawned on him how many times his eyes had changed tonight with his barely noticing. He fought to keep the beast at bay but he couldn't purge all of the gold from his eyes. After what seemed like minutes of internal struggle, Nick finally had the vampire marginally under control, at least enough to fool the mortals in the club.

"Maybe you should enjoy your drink in the back, eh?"

Nick held the bottle tight to his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that Miklos had held on to him and waited patiently while he regained his composure. Nick wanted to thank him, but he didn't trust his voice. He simply nodded and dashed toward the back of the club.

LaCroix, who had been watching the entire exchange from a distance, approached the bar and grimly eyed the broken glass. He looked at Miklos and raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know, LaCroix." Miklos dropped the ruined glass into the trash and wiped at the bar with a fresh rag. "He's not drinking his usual." The vampires exchanged a look. "And he's very thirsty."

"Really? Then I'd best take him an adequate supply." He took the two bottles Miklos produced from behind the bar and, smiling, headed for the back rooms of the Raven.
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End 2/4

Cousin Shelley
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