Finding Blood (City Underdark #1)

The Market

A vampire survived on people. That was why a vampire trying to hide always went to more people and attempted to find a place in the crowd. Barmond hoped that the others didn't know that as he followed the ruckus towards a marketplace.

The Friday market was something Barmond was familiar with. After all, that was the time where he met up with the envoy of his sire, the one that carried his reports back to him, and so every Friday he would put on his gloves and hat and move to the marketplace.

The other one. On the other side of the entire town. A town that, he was sure, would be crawling with every single minion Ranphoros could throw out among humans without arousing suspicion during the day. During the day. He might be capable of remaining awake, but a vampire out and about during the day with no place to hide never lasted long.

He had a brief thought for a certain jar of ashes sitting on some table back at home. And then he chased it away from his mind. He refused to give up.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings. It was still too early to expect a lot of people, but most of the stalls that would be present for the day were already set up, and those that were not were being built. The sun had no yet perked over the rooftops between the houses, but the line it traced on the walls was lowering with every passing moment.

Barmond tried to not look as nervous as he felt.

His eyes landed on a butcher setting up his stall for the day, a stall full of freshly chopped meat. Meeting the owner's eyes sealed the deal: the man smiled at him from across the market square, a little shy, a little eager, and Barmond just knew. He didn't let the other break the contact, in fact, he didn't look away the whole time he walked towards him. And the man didn't move, literally hypnotized. Easy preys couldn't usually be distinguished at first glance, but then there was that type. The eager-to-please type, the unconfident type, the ones that would give away their life drop by drop for a shred of love.

He stepped behind the butcher's stall. Barmond and he probably looked the same age; the vampire forced a smile so that they might look like friends to anyone watching them.

"Forget me," said Barmond.

And, in one smooth movement, he crawled under the table full of meat. If anyone was looking on, Barmond was hoping that they would write this off as him searching for something. He didn't have the luxury of being smooth about it.

There was not a lot of space under the butcher's table, with it being quite low and with a feet rester, but he was hidden behind cloth and protected by the scent of raw meat piled over his head; this was all that mattered now. He could wait here for now. As imperfect that hiding place might be, hopefully, it would hold until the menace of the sun no longer loomed over his head

And, hopefully, he wouldn't get too hungry with all those humans around.

He already was, a little, the last few drops remaining in him being diffused through his body. Staying awake during the day was possible for him, but it came with a price. A price paid in blood. He didn't want to think about what would happen when his vampiric restrain clock would stop ticking.

Of course, his first thought was that he could risk hypnotizing the butcher again, but he knew that it was risky. He could only make people go slack and docile and erase their memory of him, which was the equivalent of punching a game of chest instead of playing it. it was a far cry from what a real vampire could accomplish and he was crucially aware of it. They even spoke of it as an art form and mocked him for being unaware of its nuances.

He laid back against a table foot to rub his face. He wanted nothing more than to sink into sweet lethargy. Sink and forget. Dream of the pale arms of Jessica, maybe, and the two lovely moles leading to her neck.