Chapter 3: Iron Taste

When Harriet and Valerie would go on a stakeout, they’d order cheap coffee and sit in relative silence for hours. She remembered enjoying it, the silence calmed her and the coffee did its best to keep her awake. In a way, it felt relaxing to be able to take her mind off the rest of the world for a few hours and just let it all pass by her.

With Boris, however, things were different. He spent most of his time chatting away, telling stories, commenting about the case, practically anything that came to his mind. Even the coffee, which she’d asked him to get, was bought from some expensive coffee shop. It was good coffee, of course, but it kind of ruined the whole vibe.

She knew she was being unreasonable. Boris was trying his best, telling her stories about himself, buying the nice coffee she’d probably like. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, but it felt like every action he did and every word he said wasn’t what she was used to.

“Time’s up,” Boris said, checking his watch. Since they had no idea where their culprit may be, they had to keep looking in the general area, changing where they were parked every thirty minutes. Harriet started the car and moved it to another street. This one had only one open shop at the end, its white lights shined on a good portion of the street, removing most of the night’s darkness from the short road. Several alleys broke off in various places, perfect hiding spots for anything that wanted to hurt someone. Whoever had killed Darla Jenkins last night seemed to like doing it at night and in abandoned alleyways where they could play with their prey.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Boris asked as Harriet shut off the engine.

“There a problem?”

“No, no. It’s just…” He picked at his fingernails, deciding whether or not to speak. Eventually, however, he seemed to decide. “Why did you join the force?”

Harriet frowned. Nobody had actually asked her that before. Not even Valerie. They’d talked about it, of course, but Harriet had always been the one who asked first.

“You want to know why I joined?” she asked.

He gave a small nod. “I just…Everyone at the station seems to hate the vampires because…well, they’re vampires. They’re the bad guys, aren't they?” He looked at her, but she forced herself to look out the windshield. “But with you, it’s…different. It’s like you don’t hate them, but you know they’re bad. Or something. I don’t know, I can’t place it.”

She didn’t reply at first and instead watched as a drunk man stumbled past the car, his black hair long enough to cover his face. *They* are *the bad guys. But I don’t* *hate them. Why would I? Some of them can’t help it.*

“Nobody told you, did they?” she said finally. “I mean, it’s not really a secret, but uh…I don’t like to talk about it.” Boris frowned a little but didn’t say anything. “My uncle was turned and didn't tell anyone. He didn't go to the TVCs. He didn't say a thing. He wanted it, the power, the talons. He didn’t mind killing a few homeless people now and then if it meant…” She felt a lump in her throat growing but swallowed it down. *No. I won’t cry for him.* Boris watched her patiently. “You see, the thing about vampires is they don't know their own strength, especially when recently turned. They get this…growing period, where they’re still equalising.

“One day, he get into an argument with my dad. Pushes him. He breaks a glass and cuts his hand and...that's it. The bloodlust takes over and he can’t help himself. He killed both my parents that night and uh…when they found him, the police had to put him down then and there.” Harriet dug her fingernails into her palms, anything to keep her tears from falling. “You wanna know why I became a cop, Anderson? It’s because, after all that, I didn't know what else to do.”

\*

The cold should have made Lee shiver, but he was too drunk to feel it. The music still rang in his ears as he parted from Fabian, the red-haired performing arts student he had met on his first day.

“You sure you don’t wanna keep going?” Fabian said, the edges of his words beginning to slur together.

Lee shook his head. “Nah, I’ve gotta go. Before my sister kills me,” he said, checking his watch. Half-past twelve. Plenty of time.

Fabian left him with a wave and the two went opposite ways. Lee found that he was a little more drunk than he expected. As he walked, he ended up stumbling occasionally, catching himself by grabbing onto a wall or lamppost.

The more party-centred area of New London was brimming with people and bright lights, all of which helped to make you forget that it was the dead of night. The sky there barely looked like the regular black it should have been, while the people that moved about, trying to find the next club or bar, filled the air with chatter and liveliness.

Lee loved it.

He felt himself be compelled to join the crowds of people, follow them to wherever the biggest party was and drink himself stupid. New London had no end to the streets upon streets of new places to go, new nightclubs with their own mix of music that they used. *Another time.*

Leaving that area, the streets gradually became quieter, with fewer people and places open. He ended up passing an old, abandoned workshop behind a chain-link fence, a ruin from the old city. Its windows were almost all smashed and the right side looked blown to bits. Moss had grown over a large chunk of the area, creeping up the walls and into the darkness inside. Lee stopped for a moment, noticing the workshop and the copious graffiti on its walls. Most were the same as he was used to, random calling cards and crudely drawn penises, but just to the left of the window was a drawing of a drop of blood, curved so that it almost looked almost like a moon. The symbol of the Blood-born.

Lee sniffed at the symbol. The Blood-born were some gang of vampires that had carved a large piece of territory out of New London in its early days. Now, however, Lee would be surprised whenever a single member would be arrested. *Must’ve been an old hideout. Can’t believe they used to be so close.*

As he turned a corner, passing a brightly lit corner shop and a car with two people chatting with each other, Lee found himself on an empty street that curved slightly to the left. Most stores were shut at this time, their shutters down and burglar alarms flashing occasionally. *She wants to move somewhere bigger, I can tell. We wouldn’t be able to afford it, especially if I’m not working while I’m at university. I should probably just—*

When he walked past a small alley on his left, Lee heard a voice call from the shadows. It was too dark to see the end, but just behind a stack of boxes, a hunched figure called out meekly. “Hello?”

Lee stopped, the voice catching him by surprise. “Hello?” he asked back. When no reply came, he made to keep going. *Probably just a homeless guy.*

Too late. The figure moved impossibly fast, grabbing Lee’s side and pulling him into the alley. He flew into the shadows, landing on the concrete a moment later and skidding along it for a few feet.

Something landed on his chest. A man with long blonde hair and a thick neck. His arms were on Lee’s shoulders, digging into his skin with long, sharpened fingernails.

*Vampire.*

Lee writhed under the man, squirming to get free. He tried to scream but a hand shot to his mouth, muffling the sound before it could escape.

“Shh,” the man smiled at him, eyes wild. He dropped down, mouth planting on his neck and biting down. Lee’s eyes widened as his throat exploded into pain. He screamed beneath the man’s palm, but each time he resisted and the more he pulled away, the deeper the man bit down. The side of his neck was wet and warm, blood leaking out onto the ground.

The man pulled away violently, blood spilling out of his mouth and squirting from his neck. He leaned back, eyes closed, and swallowed. Lee felt his energy draining with his blood. Desperately, he pressed his left hand against his neck and tried to pull himself away with his right. He slid out from under the man’s legs as he remained in the same place. *Run. Get to hospital. Stich me up. I can…I can make it.*

He made it a few feet. The man stood up slowly, wiping his mouth. He watched for a moment as Lee tried to pull himself away. He tried to see what was down the other end of the alley, but the darkness was too deep and his vision was going blurry at the edges. Blood was in his mouth, his throat, probably his lungs. It spilt out onto the ground, soaked his clothes, and caked his hands.

“You don’t taste the best,” the man said, crossing the distance between them in an instant. “but you’ll do. I’m starving.” He flipped Lee onto his back again. Everything felt dulled, like his senses were fading. He tried to raise an arm to hold him back, but could only lift it halfway before he had to drop it. The man watched it for a moment, laughing to himself.

*Pols. No. I can’t die here. I don’t—*

The man sat on Lee’s chest again.

*I don’t want this. Polly, help me.*

He lowered himself down, mouth opening as it approached his throat.

*I don’t want to die.*

“Henka!”

The man pulled away, twisting on the spot to look at something at the entrance of the alley.

“Stop this at once,” the voice said, his words echoing in the alley. The man, Henka, didn’t move from atop Lee.

“You?” Henka said. “What’re you doing here? Leave me alone.” He turned back to Lee, who was trying his hardest to even breathe.

“Not him,” the voice told him. “You can’t have him.” Henka turned back with a snarl, this time rising to his feet.

“Why not?” he asked. “I saw him, I claimed him, he’s *mine*!” without Henka blocking the way, Lee could see the silhouette of a man at the entrance to the alley. He looked tall with thick arms.

“This is your last chance,” he said. “Leave him alone. Now.” There was no reply. The two stood in place, frozen for a few moments as Lee clung to his neck. Henka snarled and—

The man appeared behind Henka, his arm stuck out, but otherwise in the same position as he was at the other end of the alley. Henka’s head rolled from his shoulders and onto the ground. Blood spurted from the stump that was his neck as the rest of him collapsed to the ground in a pile. Lee watched for a moment as the man wiped his bloody arm with a handkerchief, grimacing all the while. Weakly, Lee pulled at the ground, his fingernails scratching at the concrete as he failed to move an inch away from the new stranger.

Only then did the man seem to notice him. His hair was stark white and tied back into a loose ponytail. His face, littered with scars, pulled into a sad frown as he scanned Lee. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Lee,” he said, crouching over him. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to do this, but he…” he sighed, then took his thumb to his wrist and pressed it down. Lee saw the blood through his fading vision. The man said something else, but he was too weak to hear. Something warm dripped into his mouth and filled it with the taste of iron. When it was done, the world span as his eyelids fell, cloaking him in endless darkness.

At 12:48 in the morning, Lee Gray died.