The man's bravado shattered completely at the low, predatory tone of Reina's voice. The leer on his face melted into a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. He saw something in her eyes then, something ancient and hungry that belonged in the shadows, not standing before him in a damp alley.
A tense silence stretched between them, thick enough to choke on. Then, from the corner of her eye, Reina saw the elderly victim beginning to stir, a low groan escaping his lips. Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through her. He couldn't see. He mustn't see.
In a heartbeat, her entire demeanor shifted. The lethal stillness vanished, replaced by a convincingly human tremor. Her eyes went wide with manufactured fear. She let out a piercing, desperate scream that echoed off the brick walls.
"Help! Somebody, please!" she shrieked, her voice climbing to a hysterical pitch.
She turned on her heel and fled, deliberately pumping her arms and legs with a mortal's clumsy, frantic speed. She didn't run like a creature of the night; she ran like prey.
The mugger, his own fear momentarily short-circuited by this sudden reversal, reacted on basest instinct. The threat was running. The threat was afraid. He could be the hunter again. With a guttural yell, he gave chase, his heavy footsteps slapping against the wet pavement behind her.
Reina led him on a twisting, turning path, away from the main street and the recovering old man, deeper into a labyrinth of decaying buildings and deserted service roads. She made sure to stay just within his sight, a tantalizing glimpse of brunette hair and a flash of her jacket around a corner, always just out of reach, stoking his anger and his foolish confidence.
She ducked into a narrow, dead-end alley shrouded in deep shadow, the air thick with the smell of rotting garbage and damp concrete. She pressed her back against the cool brick wall, listening. His footsteps slowed, then stopped at the alley's mouth. She could hear his labored breathing, the triumphant sneer returning to his lips.
"Thought you could get away, you stupid bitch?" he panted, stepping into the alley, blocking her only exit. "You shouldn't have screamed. Now I've gotta shut you up for good."
Reina let her head hang, shoulders slumping in a perfect pantomime of exhaustion and defeat. She waited until he was only a few feet away, close enough that she could smell the cheap beer on his breath and the stale sweat on his skin.
He reached for her.
In that instant, the act dissolved. Her head snapped up. The fearful human mask was gone, replaced by a visage of cold, beautiful fury. Her crimson eyes glinted with an otherworldly light.
The man froze, his hand outstretched, his brain finally, finally processing the horrific wrongness of the situation. The speed. The silence. The eyes.
It was too late.
Reina moved.
It wasn't a human movement. It was a blur of deadly grace. One moment she was against the wall, the next she had him pinned, her body a cage of impossible strength. One hand clamped over his mouth, stifling the scream that tried to tear from his throat. The other held him immobile with effortless ease.
His eyes bulged, wide with a terror so profound it was almost pitying. He struggled uselessly against her iron grip, his muffled cries pathetic against her palm.
She didn't hesitate. The scent of his blood, a cocktail of fear and violence, was a siren's call she could no longer ignore. A deep, primal instinct, older than her stolen memories, took complete control. She bent her head to his exposed neck, her lips parting.
The puncture was swift, precise. A sharp, brief pain for him, eclipsed instantly by a wave of sensation for her.
Hot, coppery liquid flooded her mouth.
And the taste… it was vile.
It was nothing like she had imagined in the abstract. This wasn't life or power or intimacy. It was a thick, metallic slurry that carried the bitter aftertaste of his rage, his pettiness, the pathetic cruelty of his small, meaningless life. A wave of pure revulsion rolled through her, so potent she nearly pulled away. Disgusting. The word echoed through her mind, a stark, cold judgment. She drank, compelled by a need that was both biological and demanded by her new nature, but she took no pleasure in it. Each pull was a chore, a necessary descent into something foul.
His struggles grew weaker, then ceased altogether. His body went limp in her arms, a hollow shell emptied of its terrible contents. She let him crumple to the ground, a sack of bones and wasted potential.
Reina straightened up, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. The blood was already a fading warmth on her tongue, the physical nourishment a stark contrast to the psychic filth it left behind. She felt sated, her strength singing in her veins, but her soul felt… stained.
A soft rustle of movement came from the alley's entrance. Jane stood there, watching, her expression unreadable in the gloom. Her crimson eyes flickered from the body at Reina's feet to Reina's blood-streaked lips.
"It gets easier," Jane said, her voice a low, smooth murmur that seemed to absorb the alley's darkness. "The taste. You learn to find the right vintage."
Reina said nothing. She just stared at the lifeless form, a cold numbness spreading through her.
"My turn," Jane announced, a hint of that old, predatory smile touching her lips. "I won't be long. Dispose of that."
Without another word, Jane turned and vanished into the night, a phantom returning to the hunt, leaving Reina alone with the consequence of her new life. The silence of the alley pressed in on her, heavy and accusing. She looked down at the man, at the grim reality of what she had done, of what she now was.
A sudden, sharp sound made her head snap up. It was the distinct, heavy creak of a door opening somewhere down the alley, followed by the scuff of a boot on concrete.
Someone's here.