had been regulated by those drugs he used to take. And while those things were harmful, and even poisonous, flushing them down the toilet might have been a bit hasty.
He felt the pressure building. When he talked to people, his skin prickled, and it sometimes seemed like he was seconds away from screaming, or bursting into tears, or even tearing his hair out in clumps. Could people see it building up inside him? Perhaps he gritted his teeth too hard? Or was his skin flushed?
He couldn’t let this go on. He needed some way to reduce the pressure. And the answer was right there. The calmest he’d ever been was when he’d drunk Catherine’s blood. And didn’t he still have some vials in the fridge?
They weren’t supposed to be for his own use, but this was an emergency.
Hurrying to the kitchen, he darted past the guest room. He couldn’t talk to Daniel, not now, not so close to an imminent explosion. First the blood.
He nearly tore the fridge door open and paused, blinking in the light emanating from it. Only one vial left. How?
Hazy memories came back to him. Throughout the day, he’d drunk four himself. He recalled the sensation: his hand trembling, unscrewing the cap, and drinking it all in three hurried swallows, the salty metal taste feeling sublime. How had he forgotten?
He reached for the last vial, then froze. This vial was not for him.
Should he talk to Daniel and tell him they needed more? He could already imagine his friend’s disappointed expression. Daniel would ask him if he finished all the vials already. And what could he say in response?
He’d have to go get some more on his own. He put on his coat and silently slipped out of the house. Daniel wouldn’t notice anyway; he was used to his frequent trips out.
Being outside made him feel even worse. Inside, it was his home turf. Out in the street, he was exposed. The lit windows of houses down the street watched him, square yellow eyes in the darkness. His neighbors could be standing behind those windows. They would know something was off with him; they must have seen things that made them wonder. He resisted the impulse to hurry back inside and instead strode down the street, as fast as he could without looking strange. There was a fine line between man-in-a-hurry and man-in-a-panic. He didn’t want to give the people looking at him any reason for suspicion.
At first, he saw only one person, walking his large menacing dog. But as he got closer to the mall, the streets filled with people. His nostrils flared. He could smell it.
Blood.
Every one of those people had, on average, nine to twelve pints of blood. The quantity made him feel dizzy. He imagined fifteen beer bottles in his fridge, all brimming with blood. Of course, that wasn’t practical. He couldn’t really empty a body efficiently. He just needed enough blood to make it a few more days.
A woman walked past him, reeking of perfume. She tried to mask the scent of blood, like prey had been doing for millions of years. But he wasn’t fooled; he could still easily sniff it underneath. Once you knew how blood smelled, you couldn’t ignore it. It was everywhere. He carefully turned around and began following her. She was walking in high heels, tap-tap-tapping on the sidewalk.
He tracked her for about five minutes, keeping a distance, his mouth salivating. She glanced back. Her footsteps quickened. Had she noticed him? He panicked and froze in his spot, and she was gone.
Angry, he whirled around, thinking of returning home, then caught his breath.
Two teenage girls, no older than fourteen, strolled on the other side of the street. They were chatting, laughing, and he could smell them over the traffic’s stench.
It smelled better, fresher, purer.
With a blood so pure, all he’d need would be a few drops a day.
Katy regretted the chocolate cake she’d had. Sure, Mel had a piece of cake, too, but the way Mel looked, she could afford to eat cake every day. Katy knew she wasn’t that lucky. When she ate cake, it stayed there.
Besides, it wasn’t even the good kind of chocolate cake. It was too sweet and a little dry, and now she felt nauseated.
Mel kept talking about the cute waiter at the café. Katy nodded and laughed at the right moments and tried not to throw up.
“Let’s see if anyone commented on our picture.” Mel took out her phone. They’d