Chapter two

"Imagine a man his age wearing a Scout's uniform," Mr. Crepsley snorted as he turned our victim over.
"Were you ever in the Scouts?" I asked.
"They did not have them in my day," he replied.
He patted the man's meaty legs and grunted. "Plenty of blood in this one," he said.
I watched as Mr. Crepsley searched the leg for a vein, then cut it open - a small slice - using one of his fingernails. As soon as blood oozed out, he clamped his mouth around the cut and sucked. He didn't believe in wasting any of the "precious red mercury," as he sometimes called it.
I stood uncertainly by his side as he drank. This was the third time I'd taken part in an attack, but I still wasn't used to the sight of the vampire sucking blood from a helpless human being.
It had been almost two months since my "death," but I was having a tough time adjusting to the change. It was hard to believe my old way of life was finished, that I was a half-vampire and could never go back. I knew I had to eventually leave my human side behind. But it was easier said than done.
Mr. Crepsley lifted his head and licked his lips.
"A good vintage," he joked, shuffling back from the body. "Your turn," he said.
I took a step forward, then stopped and shook my head.
"I can't," I said.
"Do not be stupid," he growled. "You have shied away twice already. It is time you drank."
"I can't!" I cried.
"You have drunk animal blood," he said.
"That's different. This is a human."
"So what?" Mr. Crepsley snapped. "We are not. You have to start treating humans the same as animals, Darren. Vampires cannot live on animal blood alone. If you do not start drinking human blood, you will grow weak. If you continue to avoid it, you will die."
"I know," I said miserably. "You've explained it to me. And I know we don't hurt those we drink from, not unless we drink too much. But…" I shrugged unhappily.
He sighed. "Very well. It is hard, especially when you are only a half-vampire and the hunger is not so great. I will let you abstain this time. But you must feed soon. For your own sake."
He returned to the cut and cleaned away the blood - which had been leaking out while we were talking - from around the man's leg. Then he worked up a mouthful of spit and slowly let it dribble over the cut. He rubbed it in with a finger, then sat back and watched.
The wound closed and healed. Within a minute there was nothing left besides a small scar that the man probably wouldn't notice when he awoke.
That's how vampires protect themselves. Unlike in the movies, they don't kill people when they drink, not unless they are starving or get carried away and go too far. They drink in small doses, a little here, a little there. Sometimes they attack people out in the open, as we had just done. Other times, they creep into bedrooms late at night or into hospital wards or police cells.
The people they drink from hardly ever know they've been fed on by a vampire. When this man woke, he would remember only a falling red shape. He wouldn't be able to explain why he'd passed out or what had happened to him while he was unconscious.
If he found the scar, he'd be more likely to think it was the mark of aliens than a vampire.
Hah. Aliens! Not many people know that vampires started the UFO stories. It was the perfect cover. People all over the world were waking up to find strange scars on their bodies and were blaming it on imaginary aliens.
Mr. Crepsley had knocked the scoutmaster out with his breath. Vampires can breathe out a special kind of gas, which makes people faint. When Mr. Crepsley wanted to put someone to sleep, he breathed into a cupped fist, then held his hand over the person's nose and mouth. Seconds later they were down for the count, and wouldn't wake for at least twenty or thirty minutes.
Mr. Crepsley examined the scar and made sure it had healed correctly. He took good care of his victims. He seemed to be a nice guy, from what I'd seen of him - apart from the fact that he was a vampire!
"Come," he said, standing. "The night is young. We will go find a rabbit or a fox for you."
"You don't mind me not drinking from him?" I asked.
Mr. Crepsley shook his head. "You will drink eventually," he said. "When you are hungry enough."
"No," I said silently behind him, as he turned to walk away. "I won't. Not from a human. I'll never drink from a human. Never!"