6 years later.
There was a time when seeing a vampire would draw a curse from me. When seeing it feed on a human would have instantly propelled me to use my magic to save what or who needed to be saved.
But now, watching the vile creature drain the last of a prostitute's blood in the dark alley, I did nothing. Nothing at all.
I was rather bored, impatient, needing to get the reason why I was here out of the way so that I could return to the comfort of my bed.
I didn't shake when the girl's eyes found mine, pleading for help; didn't look away. I rather watched her bleed to death.
If she knew that I didn't have a heart, she might not have bothered. She might have saved her strength to make a prayer to whatever supreme being would listen to her.
When the vampire was done feeding, when his dirty body began to shift, to change into a more youthful appearance, I threw the cigarette butt on the floor, crushing it beneath my heel with deliberate disinterest.
