The Dark Sire Issue 2 (Winter 2019) | Page 81

black leather gloves and buttoned the collar of the coat to protect my neck from all things that bite. I half wished that I wore a sweater instead of the button-up shirt that I did, but it was too late. I was dressed, out-of-doors, and walking into the dispersing crowd of onlookers, the dead child’s parents long gone. “He was so young, poor boy,” a man said as he passed by, not even noticing me. “I know, right? We better get home to Lenny,” the woman accompanying the man said. I made my way to the place where the boy had lain. My eyes slowly moved to the left, canvasing my surroundings, before my head followed. A few onlookers were lingering, talking about the boy’s unusual death for the area, while a couple of policemen in uniform were standing nearby, guiding stragglers away from the scene. They were preparing to leave when I bent down to examine the blood. The blood was cold, dried, and trapped within the grooves of the cobblestone. The smell was potent but stale, which meant the boy had been dead approximately four to five hours. I took out a small pocketknife, scraped some of the blood off the pavement, and rubbed it in circles between my gloved index finger and thumb. The dried blood was a bit hard from the cold but also tacky, a clear indication of human blood mixed with that of a fiend’s. It was curious that vampire blood would be present, especially since a child wouldn’t normally be able to cause damage to one so strong. I grew even more curious when the bitter-tasting blood hit my tongue, my eyes bulging as I slapped my hand to my mouth. 79