The Tale of Sloth

III: Tú futuro te necesita, no tú pasado."- M. R.

"Necessario futura, non praeterita."

Lycidas drove in silence down into the suburbs. If there was any light in this situation, it was that this girl lived in a secluded area. He was glad not to enter the overpopulated city. Demedicus had given him her address. The drive was about 45 minutes away from the compound where The Council lived.

He enjoyed solitude. He didn't have to worry about pleasantries. He wasn't worried about sucking the life from someone. He didn't have to try so hard not to hurt anyone. He could control his power, but with profound difficulty. When he was around people, he had to make a conscious effort to tell his body to just stop.

He didn't like being around people because they were work.

He pulled into the driveway. As he got out, he shut the car door and grimaced at the house. He could still smell the blood. When she transitioned, she would be able to as well. He imagined she was keen to move out as soon as possible. He waked up the stairs of the porch and knocked on the door twice.

He waited. And waited. When he didn't hear anything from inside, he knocked again. He looked around himself. He was always on edge. Always aware of his surroundings.

Again, no answer. He knocked out the piece of glass on the door and unlocked the door from the inside. Stepping into the house, he was immediately bombarded with the smell of chemicals and whatever the hell else was in here.

He moved from the living room into the kitchen—no sign of her. "I'm with The Council," he announced. "I am here to verify the arrangements you've made for your transition."

No answer. He found the stairs and made his way upstairs. The home was...elitist, to say the least. It made sense to him why her parents chose such a home to live in. The outside was dark, with pillars of white-out front. The inside was decorated with sophistication. They had rare pieces of art hanging on the walls and expensive china in glass in the kitchen. All in all, he was sure this girl was well taken care of.

He could smell lavender coming from behind a door. It was the smell of a female. He immediately knew this was her room. He pushed the door open into an empty space. Her room wasn't exactly clean, but he could tell that no one had slept here recently. The scent was almost gone completely. She must have left everything in its place. She must have slept elsewhere.

As he was starting to think she might have moved somewhere else, he smelled the strong scent of fresh blood and the sourness of transition. He closed his eyes, realizing. He stepped forward toward the scent. The door was open, but he focused mostly on the girl lying on the floor. As he entered, her eyes opened wide, and she let out a strangled scream.

She rolled onto her stomach, laying her head between her arms as a searing pain erupted throughout her body. She was transitioning. She knew it. She knew it was coming. Still, she never looked for a male to feed on. It wasn't of importance to her. But as she felt like she was burning from the inside out, she regretted that decision.

Her eyes snapped toward the door where a male stood. He was a vampyre. She could tell but the delicious scent radiating from him. The bloodlust hit her like a truck. He must have noticed the change from pain to hunger because he stroked the back of his neck.

She wanted him. She wanted him so badly. But she hung her head again. She wouldn't drink from someone who didn't want her to. It was an intimate thing in their world. There was something erotic about taking the essence from another and using it to nourish yourself.

She could feel him moving. She didn't care much. Her throat burned. He could kill her, she'd let him. But he knelt in front of her and pulled her head up by her hair to make her look at him.