The vampire smiled wide, too wide, fully baring his fangs from one corner of his mouth to the other.
The smile was not human, but almost theatrical, as though he could finally drop the mask and simply enjoy the moment.
His eyes narrowed to slits, the red glint inside them flared brighter, pulsing, as if a small lamp had been lit inside, powered by someone else's blood.
«Finally you understand», he said quietly, almost tenderly, but satisfaction threaded through his voice like someone who had waited a long time for the prey to stop pretending.
He took one step forward, smooth, yet that single step seemed to compress the air in the locker room.
The envelope in his hand crackled, the one he had just picked up. The paper crumpled in his fingers, but he didn't notice.
His gaze remained locked on Ethan, like a rifle sight fixed on a target.
Ethan backed away slowly, instinctively, never taking his eyes off the vampire's face.
His heels hit the edge of the bench. He stumbled, lost balance, but didn't fall, grabbing the locker with one hand to steady himself.
His heart hammered so violently it felt as though it would tear free from his chest and run away first.
On the floor lay his work bag, worn, black, with the club's emblem peeling off. Ethan bent down sharply, almost collapsing, and snatched it by the strap.
The bag was heavy, inside a water bottle, spare clothes, keys, wallet, an old flashlight, everything he carried every day.
He swung with his whole body and struck with all his strength.
FWUP!
The sound was dull, wet, like a sandbag hitting a wall. The bag slammed into the vampire's cheek, the strap whipping across his face.
The bottle inside cracked, water sprayed, mixing with the synthetic blood smell already hanging in the air.
The creature swayed half a step, but swayed. His head jerked to the side, hair slightly disheveled.
But his face remained unchanged, no pain, no rage, not even surprise. Only mild, almost academic interest, like a scientist observing an unexpected reaction from a test subject.
«Not bad», he murmured, touching his cheek with fingertips.
The skin stayed perfectly smooth, without a single scratch. He looked at his fingers, a drop of water from the bottle glistened on them, and he licked it off slowly, almost thoughtfully.
«Ethan… thirty seconds ago you still had a chance».
Ethan was already running for the door.
Run! Just run! flashed through his mind.
Thoughts burst in short flashes. His legs carried him forward, the door was close, only a few meters away.
He reached it, fingers closed around the handle, wet, slippery with sweat.
And froze.
Not from fear.
Because through the narrow gap under the door he saw a shadow.
Long, motionless, black.
Someone was standing outside, right behind the back exit.
Ethan felt cold crawl up his legs, up his spine, to the nape of his neck.
Breath stopped.
The handle in his hand suddenly felt heavy, as though made of lead.
The vampire stood motionless behind him, like a statue. His voice came quietly, almost tenderly, yet mockery laced every syllable.
«Why did you stop? Accepting your fate?»
Ethan didn't even have time to blink.
In one instant, in that brief, almost imperceptible flutter of eyelids, the vampire vanished from his spot and reappeared directly in front of Ethan.
The red eyes now blazed point-blank.
«Doors?» he smirked, never taking his gaze from the metal handle Ethan still gripped with white-knuckled fingers.
The smirk was short, dry, soundless, only the corners of his mouth twitched upward, baring the fangs to the gums.
«Thought you could escape?»
He placed his palm on Ethan's chest, lightly, almost gently, as though straightening a tie in front of a mirror.
The fingers were cold, long, without a single crease of skin. Yet beneath that lightness lurked crushing strength.
And then he pushed.
The blow felt like a truck suddenly accelerating at full speed.
No wind-up, only instantaneous, devastating pressure. Air exploded from Ethan's lungs in one short, ragged sound.
Ethan flew backward. His back crashed into the row of metal lockers with a loud metallic clang.
The doors buckled inward, paint flaked off in sheets, several locks tore from their hinges. He slid down the crumpled metal slowly, leaving wet trails of sweat and blood from split knuckles.
His legs buckled, knees hit the tiles. The bag slipped from his fingers and fell beside him, keys and soaked T-shirt spilling out.
Pain came in waves, first sharp like a knife, then dull, spreading through his entire body.
He tried to breathe in short, convulsive gasps, but his lungs refused to expand.
A ringing filled his ears. Black spots swam before his eyes.
The vampire did not hurry to approach.
He simply stood in the same spot where he had pushed. Hands hanging at his sides, head tilted slightly to one side, like someone studying an interesting exhibit in a museum.
The red eyes paled. The smile vanished; now his face was calm, almost bored.
«See?» he said quietly, almost thoughtfully.
«This is only the beginning».
He took one step forward, slow. His boots made no sound on the wet tiles.
«You could have taken the money. You could have gone home. You could have pretended it was over. But you chose… this».
He stopped two steps from Ethan, close enough for Ethan to feel the cold radiating from his body like an open freezer.
The metal groaned, a low, drawn-out moan that rolled through the entire locker room, bounced off the walls and returned as an echo in Ethan's ears. Locks snapped one after another, dry, sharp pops, as though someone had shot through the metal from inside.
Locker doors buckled, paint showered down in flakes, and Ethan slid down the crumpled surface.
He gasped for air, each breath short, ragged, painful, as though his lungs had turned to wet rags.
Blood from his split lip ran down his chin, dripping onto the tiles, leaving dark-red dots among puddles of water and dust.
The vampire advanced slowly, predatorily, savoring every step. His boots made no sound, only a faint, almost imperceptible rustle of fabric.
He moved like a shadow that had finally decided to reveal itself. The red eyes never left Ethan's face; there was no malice in them, only calm, almost aesthetic pleasure at how the prey tried to gather itself together.
«You complicated everything yourself», he said quietly, almost regretfully. His voice was even, velvety, yet the same mockery threaded through it as before.
«I wanted to do it the nice way».
He leaned down.
Fingers took Ethan by the chin. Lifted his face slowly, almost tenderly, as though examining a rare specimen.
Ethan looked up into those blazing red eyes, into the snarl where fangs gleamed under the flickering lights.
«But you humans… only understand a different language», the vampire continued.
His thumb slid across Ethan's lower lip, wiping away blood, the motion almost tender, yet it sent a shiver racing down Ethan's spine.
«This kind of speech you understand better».
The locker-room door burst open with such force that the hinges screeched and cold air rushed inside in a sharp gust.
A loud CRASH! tore through the silence, the sound of a heavy metal door slamming against the wall.
«Hey!» Derek barked irritably as he burst in.
«How many times have I told you, no yelling! I've got orders…»
He broke off mid-sentence.
What he saw literally drained the blood from his face.
Ethan on the floor, pinned against crumpled lockers, blood on his lips, dented metal behind him.
And above him a vampire in an expensive suit, hand on the victim's chin, red eyes that now slowly turned toward the newcomer.
«Wh… what…?» Derek whispered.
His voice cracked into a high, trembling pitch.
He instinctively stepped back, one step, two, his back hitting the doorframe. His hand flew to his pocket, fingers fumbling for his phone.
«I'll call security. They'll be here right…»
The vampire didn't even turn fully.
Only a slight movement of the head, barely noticeable, as though a mosquito had distracted him. And in the next second his body vanished.
WHOOSH
Derek blinked and the vampire was already behind him.
Fingers like steel needles, cold and hard, settled on Derek's shoulder. The vampire's face remained expressionless.
«Derek!!!» Ethan tore himself off the floor. His voice rasped, breaking.
«No! DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!»
But it was too late.
The hand plunged into Derek's chest like a knife.
«CHOMP!»
A wet, sickening sound, like a blade driven into raw meat. Fingers passed through ribs, through muscle, through lungs without resistance, without the crack of bone, only that nauseating, squelching noise that lodged a lump in Ethan's throat.
Derek arched his entire body as though electrocuted. His eyes clouded instantly, pupils dilating to the limit, sclera flooding with blood.
His mouth opened in a soundless scream, only a short, gurgling rasp escaped.
His hands jerked upward, fingers clawing at the air, trying to grasp something, someone.
The vampire slowly withdrew his hand, almost demonstratively. On his palm lay a dark, crushed heart, still twitching, still warm, coated in a thin film of blood and mucus.
It jerked once, twice, weakly, convulsively, like a fish thrown onto shore.
«Too noisy», the vampire said calmly, without a trace of regret. His voice was even, almost matter-of-fact, as though he were simply stating an observation.
Derek's body collapsed onto the tiles like a mannequin, limp. His head struck the floor with a dull thud, arms splayed, fingers still twitching faintly.
Blood began to spread from the hole in his chest, thick, dark, lazily filling the cracks between the tiles.
Ethan stared without blinking.
The vampire slowly turned toward him. The red eyes glowed in the dim light.
«Now you're alone, Mr. Hitcher», he said quietly, almost tenderly.
«Completely alone».
The vampire opened his fingers. The heart fell to the floor, leaving a bloody trail.
«SPLAT»