Hell and the Hunger

Prologue Feeding Time Joe slid out the back door of Primal Pulse into the alley that ran behind it. A dive bar at the edge of downtown Braston, the grimy joint could just barely call itself a nightclub. Hanging heavily from his side, a twenty-something red head did all she could to keep her feet. Joe had been feeding her a steady flow of some tequila based nonsense all evening and she was in exactly the state he wanted her in – loose, easy, and all out of questions. She kept ordering, he kept buying, and she was a shallow breath away from unconscious. Red – Joe had not bothered to get her name – leaned a little heavier against him as a stiff swirl of wind blasted into the both of them. Joe breathed it into his nose. It was a refreshing contrast to the stuffiness of Primal Pulse. Stepping into the alley was like standing in front of a freezer on a sticky, August afternoon. Red shivered. Joe looked down at her, smirking as he watched her move, easy prey. He could offer her his jacket, but no. It would all be over soon enough and the chilly wind would bother her no more. As they continued down the alley, Joe’s eyes quickly scanned the darkness. It was late and at the end of the alley behind them, Wilson Avenue was empty except for a few parked cars. An all-night diner across Wilson was serving breakfast and the stench of greasy human food thickened the air. It was saturated by that funk, dense and heavy with humanity’s bad habits. Vile animals they were, filling their bodies with garbage to hurry them on to their graves. They were so lucky with their short lives. Even one hundred years of the worst suffering would be nothing compared to the tragedy Joe’s life was. Spend eternity alone and then talk about suffering and pain. They waste their thoughts contemplating the meaning of their pathetic existences. Try that for millennium after millennium. Pathetic humans, they were nothing more than food. Joe guided Red further down the alley. It was much darker than the street, safe from the neon and the secret eyes that peek in the night. Humans were so nosy. They would hide in the dark, peering out their blinds or watching from the shadows. The slightest noise would bring an audience of a thousand eyes. He humphed under his breath as Red cuddled closer to him. “What honey?” The question was a sloppy, slur. Joe’s eyes darted around again, his gaze piercing the blackness. Nothing, they were alone. He stopped Red and pushed her up against the wall. “I said I can’t wait any longer,” his voice was a lustful growl. His lips pressed against hers. It was a little rough at first, but he became gentler as she fell into his kiss. Red’s tongue darted inside his mouth as her hands quickly moved to his pants and began fumbling with his zipper. His body burned like it might burst into flames at any moment. A different hunger filled him, pushing the demon in his belly aside. Blood would never satisfy this hunger. His hand slipped beneath her dress. The smooth warmth of her thigh invited his touch as if it had been waiting all day to entertain his fingertips. His hand whispered slowly across her skin as it made its way up toward her pelvis. Then she spoke. “I think your zipper’s stuck,” she slurred. The burning fire fled. The demon in his belly – that old hunger – roared again. Thankfully, that drunken voice sloshing in his ear reminded him that he had not fed in over two weeks, and he was hungry. Joe’s body tensed as the hunger tore through him. With a defeated sigh, he turned his head and slumped against Red. His lower jaw loosened and spread as his palate expanded to match it. Both of his eyeteeth stretched and sharpened as thick saliva dripped from them. When he looked back at Red, his eyes glowed a deep, blood red. Her furrowed brow and head cocked slightly to the left gave her the look of a confused dog musing over some out of place sound. Joe considered the puzzled expression for but a moment as his left hand slowly slipped up the back of her scalp and tangled itself in her long, curly, red locks. With a quick tug he yanked her head back and exposed the soft flesh of her beautiful young neck. She whimpered slightly as his fangs punched deep into that wonderfully strong pulse of hers. Ecstasy pumped into his mouth. Its sweetness filled him, warmed him. Again his body burned, but this passion, this lust, was that old familiar hunger – that old, angry demon that would be satisfied with nothing less than warm, fresh blood. Oh to feed. His feast quivered and squeezed him tighter as he drained her. She was delicious. Once he was full up, he laid her back and placed one last bloody kiss on the softness of her lips. Stretching and licking the last of her blood off of his lips he muttered, “Blood is life.” A quick scan of his surroundings as he strolled toward a dumpster about ten feet deeper into the alley assured him that he was still without an audience. He threw his shirt and jacket in the open dumpster and then inhaled deeply through his nose. All he could smell was the rancid garbage next to him. He remained completely still as he listened intently to the sounds of the night; music from the bar, a metal spatula scraping a grill and loud chatter from the diner across the street, and the faint wail of a police siren from across town. Finally satisfied that he was completely alone in the alley, he closed his eyes. Skin stretched as two nubs formed over Joe’s shoulder blades. The nubs quickly grew into gnarled masses that continued to grow steadily until finally ripping through his skin earning barely a twitch from him. Finger-like nubs on each of the lumps stretched out further but remained connected to the others with gray, leathery skin. When they finished stretching two wings that spanned a little better than twenty feet from tip to tip spread out from Joe’s back. They looked like long, clawed, web-fingered hands, much like those of a bat. With a mighty flap of those wings, Joe was airborne. With two more, he was hidden in a black, blanket of midnight sky.