Page 7 of Vampire so Virtuous

Antoine dropped from the roof top.

He landed behind the man, who, unlike the woman, never even sensed his presence. His attention was wholly on her, prey he had no right to hunt. Prey he could never hope to subdue if Antoine hadn’t done it for him.

A simple motion. A twist of his hands.

The snap echoed from the alley walls and faded into the night. Antoine caught the man’s body before it could slump onto the woman, then let it collapse to the ground.

She still hadn’t fully regained consciousness, but her eyelids fluttered.

What was he doing? Lingering. Delaying. Risking her detecting him with every passing breath.

He leaned over her, refastening the three buttons the man had undone,his fingers working with all his speed yet keeping his touch as light as possible. In but a second, he was finished. Grasping the man’s suit and shirt in his fist, he leaped once more for the seclusion of the rooftop. The extra weight meant little.

From above, Antoine watched her stir. She pushed herself upright, a hand rising to her head as if to steady herself. For a while, she simply sat there, dazed, before finally struggling to her feet.

She stared at her fallen purse, then bent to reclaim it before stumbling down the alleyway, one hand trailing the wall for support. Continuing on with her journey. With her life.

Antoine observed until she disappeared around the corner.

Then he looked at the corpse beside him. The man’s lifeless eyes stared skyward, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

Not just one of his rules broken tonight, but several.

Not merely broken. Shattered. Belle would’ve been so pleased.

He hoisted the body over his shoulder, indifferent to the encumbrance.

There were two commercial trash incinerators in the wider Allston area, and Antoine knew where they both were.

This was his territory, after all.

Three – Cally

“Cally! Sweetheart!”

The summons was unnecessary—Cally had already spotted Eve across the crowded café and was weaving her way through the tables. Her friend had a habit of being embarrassingly loud, especially for someone who always dressed in black.

“Heya,” Cally greeted as she reached her.

Eve shot up, squeezing through the narrow gaps between tables to pull Cally into a hug, bussing both her cheeks with an exaggerated ‘Muah!’ A classic Eve move, one that never failed to earn glances from Boston’s typically reserved crowd.

“You look radiant!” she declared, all theatrical warmth, then leaned back to actually take in Cally’s face. Her expression dropped. “Oh. Shit. No, you don’t. You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” Cally grimaced. “Although fair. Nice to see you too.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Cally dropped her bag beside the chair, pulled it out, and slumped into it. Eve slid back into her seat, narrowly avoiding brushing her ass against a plate of waffles the couple beside them were trying to enjoy.

She leaned forward with her elbows on the small table. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week, seen a ghost, or someone’s died. Which is it?”

Cally winced. “Maybe all three? Let’s get some coffee. I’m desperate for caffeine.”

“Sure.” The café had waitstaff, a little touch that made it feel more personal, and Eve flagged one down. “You want anything else? Food?”

“I’m good.” The thought of eating made Cally’s stomach turn. “You go ahead though.”

The waitress arrived, harried but cheerful. “Good morning. What can I get you?” She poised a pen above her pad.