I stood for a moment on the front step of the boarding house in the warm night, under a full red moon. To the casual observer, nothing seemed to be moving, but I was able to hear the rustle of the night-time wildlife, and in the distance I could see a fox trotting from bin to bin in it's effort to find sustenance. The creatures of the night were hunting for their food, and another, slightly further up the food chain, was about to hunt for his.
There is little trouble in finding food at this school. With over eight hundred mortals sleeping in dormitories, cubicles and studies, exhausted from their work in the day, food is easy to come by. None of the coterie kill their prey, because in a closed institution like this, these things get noticed, and the hassle of an investigation would be too serious. I like to be picky, because it's nice to be able to select your food when you have the opportunity. I'm not like the Ventrue or anything, having to feed off anything in particular, but if I have the choice, I have my preferences.
I walk slowly down the avenue that runs through the centre of the school. I walk carefully and deliberately, placing each foot down slowly, one after the other. The hunger within me is difficult to control now, and I am having to con centrate most of my efforts on remaining in control. I pray I don't run into one of the night-time security staff, as although I remain invisible to most humans, with my control slipping, I don't want to have to rely on it. I have to be particularly careful because recently a couple of security cameras were placed around the school, and obfuscate does little to counter video tape. Solomon had actually had to find a tape for me to re-edit to remove a couple of indiscreet movements which I had thought hidden under the cover of obfuscate, useless against the modern technology.
To make things worse, I've found that as a younger Malkavian, my powers are slightly different to that of the older ones that I have met. While most of the older members of the clan seem to be able to command and alter memories, my powers seem to be a mo re destructive nature, damaging the nature of the victims sanity and emotions. This is all well and good for trying to confuse an opponent, but bugger all use when trying to cover up a breach of the masquerade we all so carefully try to uphold. Most of the time.
Well, now and again.
OK, OK, I'll be honest, when it suits us.
In the case of the security tape problem, fortunately, the school media centre in the theatre includes a video editing suite. Modern technology managed to succeed where mystical vampire power didn't. While you're younger, most do well to remember which is more effective. In a few hundred years, maybe I'll outgrow the need for some modern technology. But even still, I haven't met a vampire, no matter how hard they claim to be, who could take a nuclear explosion at ground zero. Human technology has out evolved us, no matter what we might claim otherwise.
I had reached another house on the avenue. The nearest person would probably have to do. One of the ground floor windows was closed with only a length of rope, which I pulled open, and slipped inside. Haste nearly overtook my as I climbed the stairs to the sleeping areas. I forced myself to slow down, to remain out of sight and to watch for any risk of discovery. No lights were on anywhere. Had I been mortal, my heart would have been pounding in my chest, and even still, my uneasiness seemed to practically radiate from me.
I stopped outside the dormitory for a moment, and pulled myself together. There seemed to be a great black thing resting in my belly, with hot claws and teeth digging into my insides. I could almost smell the blood inside the room. I slowly turned the handle on the door, opened it as little as possible, and slid through the gap. Once inside, I slowly closed it by hand, turning the handle to prevent any noise at all.
I crept between the different sleeping cubicles in the dormitory. I could hear the different sounds and distinguish between each of the children's breathing. I stepped inside one of the cubicles, belonging to a girl I call Dryad, and moved slowly towards the bed.
I don't know many of the pupils within the school, as they are rarely allowed out during the hours of night, but during the winter months especially, I often encountered pupils and made friends with them where possible. Even encounters such as the one I'd had earlier this night with some of Little Blue's "friends" (see part 3) might be capitalised on later. Between us, Solomon and I kept track of as many ex-pupils as possible, mainly through school literature and the computer network, which keeps track of as many as possible in case a favour is needed somewhere. This at least gave us a name we could call in many businesses around the country, in case we needed it. As of yet, we haven't needed to use this system, but as it's there, we keep track in case we ever do have the need.
Gently, so as not to wake her, I crouched down next to her bed and took the hand that protruded from it. Moving as slowly as possible, I moved the wrist up to my mouth, as my fangs lengthened to pierce the skin. They grazed the skin slightly, enough to draw blood, and I began to feed, sucking greedily at the nourishment my instincts had been screaming for most of the night. For a few moments, I was out of control, bestially gorging on the sweet blood. Then I was back in control, as quickly as it had been lost. I stopped feeding immediately, licking the wound so it healed almost instantly. But something felt wrong. As I held her hand, I felt that the pulse was erratic. I could hear her breathing, gasping in air as if to stop herself from drowning. She was moving, no, convulsing weakly in her bed. What was wrong? Had I taken too much? Was it a medical problem?
I stood quickly and looked down on her. Her eyes were open. She was awake and looking at me. I tried to fade into the shadows of the room, but I could still feel her eyes penetrating into my very soul. She was still looking at me, lying pale in her bed, writhing like a fish out of water, eyes wide, looking at me, pleading with me. I still don't know why she could see me. I've not met a mortal since who could if I didn't want to be seen. And at this moment, I didn't want to be seen, or heard. I didn't want to be in this dormitory cubicle. I didn't want to be forced to feed off other people any more. Most of all, I didn't want her to die. This realisation swept across me suddenly. She was dying. She was dying and I was standing here watching as if it was something on television that I couldn't do anything about. I had to be able to do something - I was obviously the cause of her distress, and I certainly didn't want to be the cause of her death as well. I decided tha t I had to do something. I lunged forward and picked her up, with one arm under her shoulder, across her back. I stood and staggered slowly backwards towards the dormitory entrance, to help and safety.
But what to do? I couldn't make my presence known. I had no reason to be in the school, and certainly no reason to be in the dormitory. Police would be called, and police were certainly out of the question. I cursed again that I only had natural strength to rely on rather than the supposed mystical strength we're all supposed to have. There was no way I could drag her somewhere to get medical attention and remain undetected if I was going to make it in time. I looked down at her, and under her short dark mop of hair, her eyes looked at me without comprehension, but pleading for help. I looked around desperately for anything that could help me.
My eyes alighted on a small red box on the wall by the door. The fire alarm. With my last reserves of strength, I hauled Dryad over to the box, and with one elbow, I smashed the glass. In an instant, my ears were filled with a tremendous constant noise. The emergency lights snapped on, blinding me as well as my complete loss of hearing from the fire bells. My senses had been on a knife edge in my desperate attempt to find help, and now I could barely see the hand in front of me. I swiftly lay Dryad down where we stood, under the broken fire alarm, and fumbled blindly for the door. I faded from view again, as I grabbed the door handle, wrenched it open, and fled, blind and deaf, invisible to the mortal world, and weeping tears of blood in pain and sorrow.
Continued in Part 5
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