It isn't the one that Daniel began. A mortal with a beating heart, easy to follow, easy to spook into taking a sidestreet. No big thing, just some guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time when the craving comes. It happens. People die all the time for stupider reasons.
Street lamps, the energy-wasting glow of shop interiors that have been closed for hours, the vague haze of light pollution in the sky, and more sensory information than a young vampire might know how to deal with. Lestat (who is here, too, somewhere) has not been studying him for too long, this new one who has been released into the world, but having read the book—well, Molloy has had a more thorough education than most fledglings can hope for.
Anyway. The meat turns the corner, off the road. It's time.
And before Daniel can begin to consider his options, there's a scream, which cuts off with the sound of something wet. In this little sidestreet, blood is spilled and bone cracks, and when the limp body of the man falls away, his throat torn, the figure that now has blood covering half her face and cat-bright eyes turns her focus on Daniel, and gives him a predator's grin as she takes a step nearer.
Another sound, a creak—two figures, climbing up and over wooden fencing, landing together on the pavement, their fangs already dropped and their hunting stares fixed.
new kid on the block.
It isn't the one that Daniel began. A mortal with a beating heart, easy to follow, easy to spook into taking a sidestreet. No big thing, just some guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time when the craving comes. It happens. People die all the time for stupider reasons.
Street lamps, the energy-wasting glow of shop interiors that have been closed for hours, the vague haze of light pollution in the sky, and more sensory information than a young vampire might know how to deal with. Lestat (who is here, too, somewhere) has not been studying him for too long, this new one who has been released into the world, but having read the book—well, Molloy has had a more thorough education than most fledglings can hope for.
Anyway. The meat turns the corner, off the road. It's time.
And before Daniel can begin to consider his options, there's a scream, which cuts off with the sound of something wet. In this little sidestreet, blood is spilled and bone cracks, and when the limp body of the man falls away, his throat torn, the figure that now has blood covering half her face and cat-bright eyes turns her focus on Daniel, and gives him a predator's grin as she takes a step nearer.
Another sound, a creak—two figures, climbing up and over wooden fencing, landing together on the pavement, their fangs already dropped and their hunting stares fixed.