Excerpt - Chapter Two Theron

He was slipping and he knew it. He’d allowed his food moments of wakefulness in which she had been semi-conscious. Conscious enough to see him, to feel him. Each time, he pushed her back into the oblivion of sleep. She would likely think he was nothing more than a dream, but there was always the chance she would remember more and more if he continued in this vein.

Vein.

The very word sent a shiver through him. He was a slave to his baser needs, and always had been. Now was no different, really, he was just tiring of it all. The endless thirst, the endless night, centuries of torment. When would it be enough? When would this curse end?

Theron knew the answer to that question. The curse would end when he did. Only, he wasn’t so easy to end. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Still, it was a question he pondered more and more. Could he put a stop to not only his suffering but the suffering of his victims?

They weren’t always innocent, his victims. Usually they were degenerates, killers themselves, rapists, men of the night who only wanted to hurt. He felt no remorse about them. None whatsoever. But over the centuries, he’d often taken the sweet, the simple, the kind. They tasted better, those kind souls, not so bitter, not so tainted as the evildoer. And for the longest time, he hadn’t cared. They were food, pure and simple. He, the apex predator, was simply doing what it was in his nature to do. Then, he’d found himself roped into this scheme. This scheme of Rook’s to what? Move onto fresh meat on a new continent? The whole idea was asi- nine, and he’d had no choice but to do as he was told. Theron sat in the cargo hold. It was somewhere around midnight. He could tell by the position of the moon streaking through the lone porthole. A porthole that had been painted black to protect what lurked inside the cassettes. He’d opened it, carefully, for the fresh air. During the day, if he stayed behind the porthole and didn’t allow the sunlight to directly touch his skin, he could do this. He wasn’t like the others, not fully. For this one thing, he was grateful.

The ship swayed and buckled. He wondered how the humans had braved the rocky waves, then realized he didn’t care. He was fine and that was all that mattered. In a short while, he’d leave the hold, along with the other creatures of the dark. They would be taken to the convent, then he’d be able to find his meal. She was his alone. Something Theron appreciated. No one wanted sloppy seconds.

The dock was dark, just as he liked it, the fog so heavy he could easily stand out of the way to observe the casket girls, as he liked to call them, as they disembarked the vessel. Brackish air swept off the water sloshing around the wooden posts.

Watching the girls wasn’t of the greatest interest. What he wanted to do was make sure the transference of the cassettes went smoothly. The task was not a difficult one, the cassettes were to be off-loaded, handed to the women to be taken to the convent, then stored away from prying eyes. But with Rook still halfway across the world, and the others just mindless fools, he felt as if the burden of supervising the transition fell to him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d catch a glimpse of his little rabbit in the process.

Would she be weak? Would she even be able to carry her cassette?

Why such a thing should concern him was confusing. Maybe he was turning into the fool. It would be stupid to let her see him even for a moment. She probably wasn’t particularly bright, she was where she was, after all, but he should avoid anything that put himself

Theron told himself he was merely curious, which he knew was a lie. He wanted her to see him, but why? Hubris? Ego? Was he trying to scare her?

Scaring his food wasn’t his style. Did the human scare the cow before consuming it? Or the chicken? No, they simply went about the task of the slaughter and consumption. Feeding was the same for him.

The women began descending the gangway, Theron doing his best to melt into the misty night behind him. There she was, at the front, stumbling behind the redhead whose bed had been under hers. His little rabbit wasn’t the most graceful, but she’d been drained over the course of the long voyage and was malnourished on top of it, they all were.

That line of women looked like a chorus of walking corpses. Something ached in Theron’s chest. He ignored the sensation, pushing the feeling aside.

The little rabbit turned her head when he wasn’t paying attention and he found himself locked, gaze to gaze, with her.

He froze in the moment, staring at her as she stared at him. When she looked away, he allowed himself to change form, right there on the dock. Doing so was a mistake, but he could remain no longer.

He flew off, his form fractured into that of dozens of midnight black ravens.

Why did I do it?

He was angry with himself for letting her observe him, so angry he’d made another error. He’d manipulated himself where he could be seen, not only by her, but by the other women, the dockworkers, the nuns. He shouldn’t have done it, but he wanted to. An unkindness of ravens was his favorite form. A surge of life pulsed through his veins when he manifested in that way. Free somehow, though he wasn’t. He loved to soar high above the humanity that sickened him so, high above the petty uselessness of it all.

The moment had come to get his head straight. They were in this town called New Orleans, and it was time to move into the next phase of their detestable plan.

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