Ravenclaw's Shadow

Chapter 2

At midnight I pull on my cloak, pick up my broomstick and creep out of the dormitory. Usually I'd meet the Defence teacher at the Astronomy tower, but Lupin's 'busy' tonight, so I just take off. I fly to a muggle town a couple of hours away. I never feed from magical folk, because they usually clue in that there's a vampire around, and that's never a good thing.

I land on the outskirts and pull the hood of my cloak up over my head. Cliché, I know.

I walk to the houses on the outskirts and peer in the windows looking for a safe place to feed. You don’t ever want to feed on a kid because if they wake up, they'll scream and wake their parents. That's always awkward. And you want to avoid the elderly because not everything is better with age.

Blood for example.

Hospitals are bad news because of all the staff everywhere and the fact that the patients are often carrying life-threatening diseases. The ideal person to feed from is the village weirdo who could tell everyone and anyone that a vampire bit him and nobody would believe him. In some towns you get lucky and there’s a cult of weirdos who will blame it on aliens.

Going from house to house I can tell most of these people have families. I don’t usually risk feeding from families because, like I said, children scream, and parents usually share a bed.

I round a corner and see a house with a light on in a downstairs window and an expensive looking car in the driveway. I immediately think ‘workaholic’. Workaholics are great to feed from because they’re usually tired, so people put their claims down to exhaustion and they usually live alone.

I slip across to the house and peek in the window. There’s a man, about twenty-five, sitting at the table with a mug sitting amongst paper work. He has dark circles under his eyes and five am shadow.

Now, you might be wondering how I’m going to do this. Am I going to break into the house and jump on him? Am I going to sneak in and scare him? No, that would be idiotic. Mine is a subtle art.

I walk over and knock on the door. I listen to him shuffle towards the door and my heart quickens with anticipation. I can feel my fangs pressing against my gums. The door opens and he peers out. I lean up and breathe on him.

“Wha-”

He collapses.

Did I mention I can knock humans out with my breath? Well, I can. Don't worry, I have to do it deliberately, I don't just fill the air with gas as I exhale.

I slip inside and close the door. The man is sprawled on the rug. I take my hood off and undo his tie and top two buttons, exposing his neck. I can see his pulse under his skin, and my fangs lengthen. I bite into him then retract my fangs and start to drink. His blood is hot and salty. I count five mouthfuls, then pull away. I don't want to take too much. I lick the wounds and watch them turn to scars. I pull my hood back over my head and duck out of the door.

Usually I would just go back to school, but I still feel thirsty. It’s strange to still be hungry after having fed, but I suppose it’s because I’m getting older, I need to feed more. I walk into town, intending to head over the other side when I walk past a pub. A guy of about nineteen walks out of the pub and lights a cigarette.

“Hey,” he calls when he sees me watching him, “how you doing?”

I walk over to him, out of the darkness and I see his eyes widen when he sees me.

“You’re a bit young to be out on your own, aren’t you?” he asks.

“You flatter me,” I purr, “and maybe I won’t be going home alone.”