Chapter Text
Scott was walking through the busy streets of New York City, deftly stepping over puddles and cracks in the pavement as he weaved through the crowded sidewalk. The people around him were all wrapped up in layers to keep them warm in the chilly January weather, and while Scott himself was wearing a fabulous winter coat he wasn’t particularly bothered with the cold.
Dead skin doesn’t feel the biting wind, after all. No, the only thing bothering him at the moment was the hunger that was starting to gnaw inside of him.
Before Oakhurst, he would have dealt with it swiftly, going on the hunt to satisfy the hunger. After Oakhurst, however, he had a different system, and he was thinking of the packs of blood and steak that was waiting for him at home.
One thing that Scott loved about this city was that nobody really paid any mind to any oddities or quirks that the people around them exhibited. They mostly ignored his white hair, red eyes, and flamboyant style as it was hardly the weirdest thing people were sporting in the subway, and when he charmed the butcher a few blocks over into selling him blood along with the steaks he often purchased, the blushing but confused man concluded he was just committing to a very peculiar bit. In the end he didn’t mind it too much, as the slaughterhouse did collect the blood and it wasn’t too difficult to convince it to send the blood along with the meat. Money was money after all, and with Scott’s funds and Shelby’s series of novels that were rapidly raising in popularity, the funds were easily raised.Scott’s new diet did not include human blood anymore. He didn’t miss the taste. No, nowadays his life contained less fear mongering, manipulating, and violence, and bargaining, exploring, and trying new things took its place.
The vampire pulled out his keys as he neared the apartment complex where he made his home. It wasn’t a dingy old apartment mind you, as he would rather be staked than lower his standards to such a low. His tastes were much more suited for the lavish penthouse he owned with his roommate.
He opened the door and made his way up using the stairs. After what was now referred to as “the elevator incident” he and Shelby tried to avoid taking it.
That time they were lucky it was only a child who noticed that they didn’t appear in the floor to ceiling mirror that covered one wall in the elevator, and when the little boy started to voice his ponderings to his mother, the duo made a swift retreat before the claims could be proven. Scott was of the opinion that it wouldn’t matter, as a boy who cried vampire in experience didn’t get believed as much, but Shelby insisted keeping “down low” was important.
So he took the stairs.
To the 46th floor.
All 1104 steps.
By the time he reached the front door, he appreciated the fact that vampires can’t sweat, yet he felt breathless despite the fact that he didn’t exactly need to breathe. He really deserved that steak now.
He had already skipped several meals the past weeks as the sun had been showing her face a lot, and while it did nothing for the dropping temperatures, it had bothered Scott’s skin as he had been at level 3. He didn’t need to be that high a level, as there were no fights to fight or townsfolk to intimidate, but it felt nice. Familiar. Powerful. And Scott hated not feeling powerful, with shorter fangs and hardly anything that resembled claws.
But Shelby once again convinced him to tone it down with the feasting, and reaffirmed the importance of blending in. He reluctantly agreed, and after the last feast a month or two back he dwindled back to stage 1, though the hair and skin remained pale and eyes red. It would take a while for the colour to return, so he wasn’t too concerned, preferring the white and red over the blue. Running his tongue carefully over his short fangs he opened the front door and called out.
“Shelby! I’m home!”
“Scott! Hi!! Welcome home!!”
He heard their voice call from upstairs, followed with footsteps, a loud *bang* as she flung a door open, and her footsteps continuing down the stairs until she appeared at the top of them. Her long white hear was showing a few red streaks, and her big smile revealed her own fangs.
“Care to join me for a bite?” Scott asked as he hung his coat on a hanger by the door and began taking off his wet boots. “I’ve been dying for a good meal. It’s been years since I felt so hungry.”
“Well… uhm. About that…” Shelby said nervously, smile wobbling just a bit, though she tried to cover it with a light-hearted tone.
Scott wasn’t having it, and raised a single eyebrow. “Spit it out already.”
Shelby visibly deflated and their smile dropped to a frown. “Don’t get mad! I kinda maybe forgot to restock on Tuesday, but we had enough so I figured I could do it the day after, but I was so caught up with my work, you should really give some thoughts on what I have for the newest sequel actually, I think you give really good pointers when it comes to romance especially-“
“Stop trying to change the subject and get to the point.” The elder cut her off harshly and Shelby let out a little whimper.
“I forgot until today and it’s Saturday, so the shop is closed! I’m sorry!!” They whined, “I checked and we have enough for a good meal, but Drift is having dinner with us tomorrow, which is Sunday, so we can’t restock until Monday and it would be rude to call it off, so I hoped we could save what we have for tomorrow? Please?” Big red puppy eyes looked at Scott as the younger made herself smaller and looked like she wanted the hide behind the very see through balusters.
Scott held her gaze with a frown for just a few seconds before he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Fine,” he groaned, and ignored Shelby’s quiet cheers, “But I get the biggest cut tomorrow! This fast is doing nothing for my figure or my mood.”
He threw himself on the couch with another grumble as Shelby made her way further down the stairs. “Okay! I can live with that!” she said happily as the landed on the couch beside him. “How was your walk? It’s not often you’re away for longer than two days.”
“Oh, it was fine,” Scott drawled as he up his feet up on the coffee table, carefully dodging the numerous knickknacks and trinkets that made their home upon it, “I took the subway around to see the other neighbourhoods. Cities are so much bigger nowadays, it’s more like a cluster of smaller cities together. I reached some kind of pub, but with more lights and louder music. The people were quite interesting, so I stayed a while.”
“You went to a club?!” Shelby yelled as their head swivelled to look at him, sounding offended for some reason.
“Without me!?”
Oh, that was the reason.
“So that’s what they’re called, huh?” Scott mumbled, unphased by Shelby’s outburst. “We can visit one together some time. You didn’t miss much, I suppose, I was only there to observe after all.”
“Reaaaaally?” Shelby said sarcastically, turning sideways on the couch to look at her roommate better and folding her legs underneath her. “You didn’t drink a drop? Or talked to a handsome stranger? Or more than talked to a handsome stranger?”
“Not that it would be your business anyway, but no. I try not to drink on an empty stomach.” He cast a side-eye to the fledgeling, who dared to giggle but otherwise stayed quiet.
He supposes it would be inaccurate to call her a fledgeling. She had grown into quite a nice vampire, adapting easily to the advances society made over the years and making herself a staple in the literary world, albeit less in the spotlight than she may have dreamed of before. To avoid suspicion she wrote under pen names that changed every few decennia, and the backs of her books never revealed a photo of the mysterious author. Nevertheless, her success was undeniable, and Scott would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of them. Still, she would always be his fledgeling.
His only fledgeling, his mind supplied bitterly. He thankfully hadn’t seen Apo around at all since Oakhurst, and while Drift was technically his fledgeling he didn’t have quite the same bond her with her as with Shelby. Cleo was never really his fledgeling, and…
He shoved any other thoughts away.
“Got any more work for tonight?” he asked.
“Nope! We can stay in for tonight and start a new binge watch?” she said, leaning over to the coffee table to retrieve the remote for the TV.
“Sounds good to me.” Scott smiled, and not for the first time commemorated humanity for their development in technology. He was really glad he could enjoy unimaginable amounts of gossip and drama on demand.
--
“Daylight? Already?” Shelby groaned and stretched out her limbs. “I have to get back to work if I wanna be ready when Drift gets here.”
“What time would that be?” Scott asked, copying her as he stretched his limbs and back. They didn’t really get sore from staying still on the couch, but it still felt nice to ease the dead muscle into motion, and his back still popped satisfyingly.
“Should be around 6-ish, I believe…” Shelby stood up as she turned off the tv and ran a hand through her hair. “We never settled on an exact time, just that she’d be here for dinner. She might be a little earlier, but I wouldn’t expect her before 4. You got any plans?”
Scott looked out the window, noting the sky looked cloudier than it had in days. “I think I will pay the park a visit. I have had quite enough of the loudness from those club buildings, and if I stay here any longer that steak will be gone before Drift can even get here.”
Shelby frowned a bit as they looked at the other vampire.
“Are you sure that’s smart if you’re so hungry? What if you, I don’t know…”
Scott’s head swivelled to her as he tsk’ed, “What, you doubt my self-control? I’ll have you know that I haven’t had a single drop of human blood since-“
“Since the 60’s, yes, I remember, I was there for it.” Shelby threw her hands up placatingly. “I won’t stop you! If you say you’re fine, I trust you.”
Scott huffed but his face softened a bit. “Good. I tell you now, I will be fine. I’ll even promise to keep my distance, okay?”
Shelby smiled again, “Okay, okay, just make sure you’re back here on time! Wouldn’t want the biggest cut of steak mysteriously disappear, hm?” they said playfully, and she laughed as she dodged Scott’s half-hearted swipe at her.
“You wouldn’t!”
“I might,” she said in a sing-song voice, retreating back to her study “So don’t be late if you don’t wanna find out!”
The elder rolled his eyes and made his way to the front door, putting the same coat and boots back on he was wearing last night, and called his goodbye before making his way down. With the stairs.
Again.
1104 steps later he found himself back outside, breathing in unneeded freezing cold air. He had learned to indulge more in human habits, even if he couldn’t quite remember how it felt when his body was still alive. Similar enough he supposed, no use dwelling on what was.
The park wasn’t far from the apartment, and soon he saw the greenery that was left this time of year. The early morning frost coated most of the grass a pale white, and the trees had been leafless for a while now, and would still be for some time. Despite that, there were already quite a few people in the park.
Scott settled in his usual park-routine. Stroll around for a while, pick a nice empty bench, sit and watch the people walk by. Get up again, go for a block round the streets, duck in a store to see if anything caught his eye, walk back to the park, pick a new bench, rinse and repeat.
He liked the different scenes that would happen around him, a quiet fascination for the daily routines humans live around him. Like watching ants walk around, busy with themselves, mundane little things like walking their dog, gliding around on tiny wheels beneath some kind of plank or even directly under their shoes, or like him sitting around doing whatever.
So simple, so different from before yet also exactly the same.
He cycled through his routine 3 times when his eyes landed on a new group to observe, a group of 4 young men standing not too far from him by some trees in the grass. They were loud like teenagers, though they looked more like 20 as they passed some kind of bottle between them, making a big show of the tiny sips they took from it. Scott could smell the cheap drink from where he sat, and it smelled neither strong nor expensive. Boasting and roughhousing, boys rarely changed.
Scott himself had never quite understood the appeal of the latter. He dealt with people who tried to get too rough with him swiftly. Nowadays that meant dodging and quiet intimidation. Before… well.
Anyhow, the boys got louder as two of them started to cheer on the other two, as one was keeping the bottle armlength away. The whooping stayed playful but got louder as the two started to wrestle it out, ending up on the cold grass. The vampire scoffed and looked away, eyes wandering over the other people at the park who were seemingly unbothered by the display the group was showing. Scott was surprised at that with how loud they were being, but human hearing and observation skills were naturally duller than a vampire’s, so he shouldn’t be too surprised.
Before his eyes could catch another person that piqued his interest, his ears perked up when the cheering turned into a quieter and more serious ooooooooof, but before Scott could turn his head to see what could’ve happened to make that change happen, the answer came to him via another sense.
The coppery smell of fresh blood carried over with the wind that was previously carrying the smell of the cheap drink and general bodily smells only teens can generate, turning it from disgusting to very, very appealing. Scott felt his fangs growing just a bit longer, just a bit sharper, as the hunger shot from his stomach to all over his body. He had to grip his legs with his fingernails to keep himself from moving over to the boys, now thankful that he wasn’t sporting claws that surely would have torn through the fabric. He covered his mouth as he scoffed at his own display of weakness. Just a little blood a few feet away and he was already reacting like this? Pathetic, really. He had endured worse with less reaction. The events from Oakhurst made him softer, weaker, and while it wasn’t all bad, he was displeased with such developments. The elder tried to take a short breath to steady himself, only drawing more of the alluring scent, turning his head subconsciously to the source. He could keep himself in line. Just a look never hurt anybody-
Scott’s non-beating heart somehow skipped 5 beats and the blood that wasn’t in his veins froze colder than the weather could ever dip to. Any thought or impulse of moving abandoned his muscles and his mind raced without thoughts.
The boys had moved to surround one of them on the ground, but Scott had no eye for them.
Standing just to the side of them, looking straight into his cold dead soul with piercing red eyes on a black sclera, was Pyro.
Which was entirely impossible.
Scott hadn’t seen the body, but he felt it happen through the bond they shared at the time. The exhaustion, the rage, the fear, and then the snap as it suddenly stopped. Shelby wouldn’t lie to him, either. She was ready to face whatever reaction Scott would give. It was in no way, shape, form possible that Pyro survived Oakhurst.
And yet it was unmistakable. The red eyes that always seemed to have this wild tinge hidden in them, the white disheveled hair that moved softly in the wind, the pale greyish skin that was still wearing the clothes he wore that day, his clothes, stained with blood seemingly from hunts he hadn’t bothered to clean off and from wounds he sustained himself. His face sported the same scars he gained from the holy water, sword attacks, and claws to the face he received, along with a newer set Scott had never seen over his nose, still a shiny red with fresh blood slowly dripping down.
It was Pyro. Undoubtedly. Unmistakable. Unnerving.
He was yet to move, or do anything, but Scott still felt dread and, was that fear? pooling in his stomach, covering the hunger. He stood in the same position he had often assumed standing next to Scott, arms folded behind him, standing straight yet leaning slightly forward as if thinking about pouncing. His face fell somewhere between neutral, smug, and angry, with the slightest of smiles pushing the corners of his mouth up and his eyes as if glowing with intensity. Like he was daring him to move, say something, attack him.
Scott was frozen, however. He was still learning how to feel, and how to identify the many emotions that came with it, but he was overwhelmed with a bunch of new emotions he couldn’t name. It swirled in his stomach, spread into his limbs, weighed as a rock in his chest. He tried to gasp, but the air hitched in his throat, making him shudder as he tried again, and again,
His eyes were suddenly drawn elsewhere, from red to red, as the boys he had forgotten about momentarily moved and the one on the ground became visible, face covered in blood that gushed from his nose. Scott tensed up at the sight, taking in the way it pulsed out with the steady beat of a heart, and he could almost taste it on his tongue, feel it in his throat, warming his cold dead body from the inside out-
You could just attack them. It would be child’s play, those four are nothing compared to the soldiers you’ve felled. It will be quick, you can get your fill, and be away as a bat before anyone would have noticed. Easy as that.
Scott was still unable the move as he felt two hands grip his shoulders, a voice that sounded terribly familiar whisper in his right ear, and when he looked from the corner of his eyes he found Pyro had disappeared. But he could guess where he had moved to.
You know you want it. You deserve it, even. When did the great Scott Goldsmith stoop so low to accept an animal only diet? You can only be satisfied with salads for so long, after all. It has been long enough, don’t you think?
Fangs grew even longer and saliva filled his mouth. The hunger blended with the emotions, carving deeper into his body than before, screaming, roaring, begging for nourishment. For a kill. For blood.
When did you get so weak? So pathetic? Disgraceful. You call yourself a vampire? Act like one. Act like you are on top of the food chain, and show these humans that they are the prey. The cattle. It was their own mistake, for bleeding near you, for taunting you with it.
Pyro’s words, like the wind, felt like cold as his breath fell on his ear. Unlike the wind however, this cold did bite and sting his skin, and Scott flinched with every few words that were growled.
Show them. Attack them. Take their blood.
Come on, Sire!
That last word was louder, snarled in a graving tone, and the shock brought movement back to Scott’s body. He shot up, body low, aiming straight for the boys, but he barely got one step in when his whole form cringed inward doubling in on himself as he tried to stay upright.
What was he doing?
Scott pivoted, to the empty space behind him, and stared straight ahead as he made his way home as quickly as he could without breaking into a run.
Pyro never left the corners of his eyes, silent once more, but ever staring.
--