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Mistoffelees lived alone, in an abandoned warehouse near a river.
He was afraid a lot, but the warehouse was not home to any other cats, so he felt more comfortable. He set up a little tent, with blankets and sheets draped on chairs, and set his top hat in a wooden crate while he slept.
He’d thought that vampires were nocturnal, but nothing had really changed for him. The sun didn’t burn him. He still craved normal food. Maybe he wasn’t a vampire? Or maybe the legends were all made up, and this is the reality of it-- worrying all the time, being afraid of being around other cats, because you never know when you’ll get blood-hungry and dangerous.
So he buzzed around his little kingdom, exploring the different halls and rooms, watching boats on the river, and very occasionally venturing out for food. He usually stuck to trash can dining-- he was an okay hunter (had his senses improved since being changed? he wasn’t sure), but trash cans were safe and boring.
Until he ran into that pack of cats, and everything got complicated.
It was early evening, as the sun started to disappear. There was an alley a few blocks from the harbor that usually had some delicious fish on the menu. Mistoffelees was perched on the edge of a trash can, rummaging around for the tastiest morsel, when he heard a warning hiss from behind. A beautiful brown cat stalked towards him, accompanied by a haughty-looking Russian blue and a tabby with a studded collar. Actually, they all had collars-- what were house cats doing out here? Mistoffelees was not going to challenge anyone for territory, and certainly not three cats at once.
“Um, hello,” he stammered, “just looking for some food, not trying to, uh, bother anyone.”
The brown cat sneered, tail taut. “This isn’t where you belong, kitten, so run along.”
“Cassandra, there’s probably enough to share,” the tabby interrupted.
She hissed at him, eyes narrowed. “You’d just let any cat hang around Jellicle turf, Alonzo?”
Mistoffelees flushed-- he could sense their pulse under their skin. He felt heat rising in his stomach. Oh no. The trio of cats, bickering amongst each other, smelled tantalizing. He couldn’t hold himself back, and lunged.
“Whoa, whoa,” Alonzo dodged gracefully, turning tightly, expression curious. His face hardened when he saw Mistoffelees’ red eyes, his bared fangs, his bloodlust. “Cass, Demeter, run.”
The trio vanished into the twilight as quickly as they had appeared, leaving Mistoffelees shaken, frightened of his own hunger.
Now Mistoffelees was back in his lonely warehouse, pacing, tail flitting back and forth anxiously. Who were those cats? And oh god, he’d attacked them, even though to be frank that girl was clearly being mean to him, but --
But he still couldn’t stop thinking about how good their blood smelled. Warm. Inviting. Such sick, deep temptation. His unquenched thirst burned him from the inside-- he wanted to tear his fur off.
Maybe he could find a mouse or something, a fresh kill to take the edge off. But he felt too despondent to hunt, honestly.
He curled up in his little den, frustrated and hungry, when he smelled something. Something amazing. As he swept aside the sheet, his ears shot up, listening for the source of this intoxicating scent, but couldn’t identify anything.
“Hullo?” he said, softly, into the darkness. “Is someone there?”
Silence, but the scent remained-- if anything, got stronger. Closer.
“Show yourself, I’m not afraid,” but his voice cracked twice-- twice!-- and betrayed him.
From the upper rafter, Mistoffelees heard a sudden exhalation of breath-- was that a chuckle? Was this unknown cat laughing at him?
“My clan told me there was a dangerous cat in the harbor district,” a tenor voice responded, as the cat lept to the floor, still keeping his distance. “I wanted to see for myself.”
Mistoffelees swallowed thickly. “Th-they’re right, I’m very dangerous, so you should leave.”
The cat crept forward, into a patch of moonlight. He was grey, lean, with dark stripes, and his eyes flashed-- but he definitely did not look scared. Curious, maybe. “What got Alonzo so rattled about a little black kitten?”
“I’m not little!” Mistoffelees snapped back. “And I’d very much like to be left alone, before I hurt you.”
That chuckle again. It was definitely a chuckle. Mistoffelees felt his ears flatten.
The grey cat inspected him, leaning in closer. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I’m Munkustrap. Munk is fine.”
Mistoffelees grabbed his hat out of its box, to have something to hold onto, something to fidget with, while under this scrutiny. “Mistoffelees.”
“Nice to meet you, very dangerous Mister Mistoffelees.” Munkustrap smiled, and Misto’s heart skipped. “Why do you live here all alone?”
Mistoffelees spun the brim of his hat nervously. “I used to have a home, but I… I got bitten, not too long ago, and I can’t control myself, and… and I don’t want to hurt anybody.”
Munkustrap’s smile fell. “You’ve been cursed?”
Misto nodded, eyes cast downward.
Munk hummed a bit. “I know a cursed cat, but she’s much older than you. She might have some advice.”
He knows another vampire? Mistoffelees couldn’t believe it. “Why are you being so nice to me? I want to drink your blood.”
“Right now?” Munk was coming closer, which seemed very inadvisable based on their current conversation, and oh but he smelled incredible. “When was the last time you ate something?”
Mistoffelees winced, tail curling into a tight little spiral. “I… I ate a rat a few nights ago.”
Munkustrap lifted his hands to his own neck, unfastening the collar there, eyes resolute. “Then let’s take care of your hunger first, and we can discuss the rest later.”
Mistoffelees was going to cry, he was sure of it. Cry, and then die, right here, in front of this gorgeous cat he didn’t know, who was being so nice to him, and he definitely didn’t know why. He could feel the thirst quicken, his eyes turning red, desire to bite overwhelming.
Munk tilted his head to the side, just slightly, an invitation. “Don’t worry, I’ll stop you if you go too far.”
And just like that, Mistoffelees was on him, hands gripping, fangs sinking into the soft fur at his neck, feeling the skin give and hot blood gushing forth, swallowing, devouring, falling.
Everything went dark.
.
.
.
Mistoffelees blinked open his eyes and had no idea how much time had passed-- it was still dark outside, but the patch of moonlight had moved across the warehouse floor. What had happened? Had he killed Munkustrap?
He realized he was lying in Munk’s lap, who had a gentle hand on the top of Misto's head, idly playing with the tufts of black fur. “Ah, you’re awake, how do you feel?”, Munk asked warmly.
Misto made an awkward sort of wet noise with his mouth.
Munkustrap laughed again, and Misto felt tingly all over. “You drank a little bit of blood, but I think it hit you too hard and you passed out almost immediately.” He lifted his collar to show the clotting bite marks. “See? Nothing to fret over.”
Was it possible to die from shame? He really really wanted to die, except it felt so nice in Munk’s arms. “... thank you,” he whispered, still wincing in embarrassment.
“I bet Cassandra thinks I’m dead, she usually assumes that when I’m gone for long enough… do you mind waiting here while I go talk to the rest of the clan?”
Waiting here? But this was where he lived. Misto sat up, blinking in confusion.
Munkustrap smiled. “I’ll come back around afterwards, and we can go together to talk to Old Deuteronomy.”
Mistoffelees felt warm. He didn’t want Munk to go. What was this feeling? A different sort of ache than the hunger. He nodded. “Do you promise to come back?”
Misto felt a soft brush of lips against his forehead, and Munkustrap disappeared out the window. For the first time in recent memory, Mistoffelees dared to hope.