Chapter 10: The First Hunt as a Coven
The basement door swung open onto the cool breath of early twilight. The sky had just begun to bruise, a deep violet bleeding into the horizon, and the oak trees along Maple Hollow cast long, clawing shadows across the pavement. Nancy stepped out first, her bare feet silent on the porch boards, and the others followed in a loose, fluid line: Carol, Denise, Jenna, and finally Emily, who moved with the unsteady gait of a fawn learning its legs.
The air was alive. Emily could taste it, the way the wind carried every scent to her new senses. Wet grass. A distant barbecue's lingering smoke. The sharp, chemical tang of a lawnmower left running in someone's garage. And beneath it all, the sweet, pulsing hum of heartbeats. There were so many of them, in the houses, in the cars. Dozens of warm, beating hearts, all of them unaware that monsters walked their street.
"How do you feel, daughter?" Denise asked, her voice low and warm. She moved to Emily's side, her silver-streaked hair catching the last dying light.
"Like I've been asleep my whole life," Emily said. The words came out hoarse. Her fangs clicked against her lower lip, and she was still startled by the sensation. "Like everything before... like it was gray. And now it's not."
Denise smiled, a predator's smile, all teeth. "That's the blood. Your blood is singing now. It will sing louder when you feed."
Nancy turned to face them, her crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dusk. She wore a loose black robe that fell open at her chest, and her pale skin seemed to drink the twilight. "This is our first hunt as a full coven," she said. "Four hunters. Four daughters of the night. I want you all to feel what it means to move through this world as we do. Not as prey. As the ones who hunt."
"Can I hunt alone?" Emily asked. The question surprised even her, but it came out before she could stop it. "I mean... with Denise. I want to prove myself."
Nancy studied her for a long moment, and Emily fought not to squirm under that crimson gaze. "Not alone," Nancy said. "You're the youngest of us. You're still learning. But you can separate from the group." She looked at Denise. "Take her out. Show her the hunting grounds."
Denise nodded, her own fangs glinting. "I'll keep her close."
Nancy stepped forward and placed a cool hand on Emily's cheek. The touch sent a shiver through her, something electric and intimate. "When you feed," Nancy said softly, "the first time you feed as one of us, you'll understand. The blood is pleasure. It is life. It is the closest thing we have to prayer. Let yourself feel it. Don't hold back."
Then Nancy turned and moved off down the street with Carol, the two of them melting into the shadows beneath the oaks with a silence that was almost supernatural. Jenna lingered a moment, adjusting her glasses nervously before following.
Emily stood beside Denise on the quiet street, watching their maker disappear. The world was soft and still, and she could feel her own heart beating in her chest. It was strange, having a heartbeat. She'd thought vampires didn't have them. But she could feel it, strong and slow, like a drum.
"That way," Denise said, tilting her chin toward the main road. "I can smell him. A man. He's been drinking."
Emily breathed in, and there it was. A thick, sour scent of beer and sweat and unwashed flesh. But underneath that, the thing that made her mouth water: blood. Hot and alive and close.
"It's almost overwhelming," Emily admitted.
"It always is at first. You'll learn to filter it. To pick out the scent you want." Denise's hand found the small of Emily's back, guiding her forward. "Come. Let me show you."
They moved through the neighborhood like ghosts, past darkened houses and glowing television windows. The man Denise had smelled was stumbling along the curb on the next block over, a bottle dangling from his fingers, his steps unsteady. He was middle-aged, paunchy, wearing a stained shirt and carrying the weight of a long, sad evening. He sang tunelessly to himself, slurring something about a woman who'd done him wrong.
Emily felt the hunger sharpen inside her. It was different from the hunger she'd known as a human. That had been a dull ache, a nagging emptiness. This was a knife's edge, honed and gleaming, cutting through everything else.
"Is that... is it okay that I want him?" she whispered. "I don't even like men."
"Hunger doesn't care about preference," Denise said softly. "It cares about feeding. And he's alone. He's drunk. He won't remember a thing in the morning, and even if he does, the influence will fade it." She squeezed Emily's shoulder. "He's yours if you want him."
Emily looked at the man. He had stopped to lean against a lamppost, fumbling with his phone. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped. There was something pathetic about him, something sad and small.
Good, a voice inside her said. Easy prey.
She didn't need to run. She just walked, her bare feet silent on the pavement, crossing the street with a predator's calm. The man looked up as she approached, his eyes glassy.
"Hey there," he slurred. "You... you lost, sweetheart?"
"No," Emily said. She smiled, and she knew her fangs were showing because his bloodshot eyes went wide. "I found something."
She was on him before he could scream. Her hand clamped over his mouth as she drove him against the lamppost, her body pressing into his, and her fangs sank into his throat with a wet, satisfying pop. The taste of him flooded her mouth immediately, and it was like nothing she'd ever known.
It was warmth and light and honey, and something darker underneath. It was the taste of life itself, and it was intoxicating. Emily's knees buckled. She gripped him harder, pulling him closer, drinking and drinking. His heartbeat thundered against her lips, fast at first, then slowing. And as the blood filled her, something else stirred. A heat, low and deep, building in her belly, spreading through her limbs. It felt like her whole body was waking up, every nerve lighting on fire.
She moaned against his throat, and the man made a weak, gurgling sound. His body was going limp in her arms, and she felt the pleasure cresting, a wave she couldn't stop and didn't want to. Her hips pressed into him, a crude rhythm she was barely conscious of, driven by something primal and ancient.
"Oh," she gasped, tearing her mouth free just long enough to breathe. Blood stained her lips, her chin, dripping onto her chest. "Oh, God."
"Let it come," Denise murmured. She was right there, a shadow at Emily's side, her hand steady on Emily's back. "Let it take you. This is what we are, daughter. This is the gift."
Emily's body convulsed, and she bit down again, her fangs finding fresh purchase in the wound, and the orgasm crashed over her like a storm. She cried out, a sound that was almost a sob, her whole body shuddering as she drank, pleasure and hunger tangled in a knot that she never wanted to untie. The pulse beneath her lips slowed, slowed.
"That's enough," Denise said gently, pulling her back. "You'll kill him. We don't want that, not here, not tonight."
Emily staggered, dizzy, drunk on blood and pleasure. The man slumped against the lamppost, alive but barely, breathing shallow, his head lolling. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at the crimson stain. Then she looked at Denise, her eyes wide, her chest heaving.
"I understand," she whispered. "I understand now."
Denise smiled and pulled her into an embrace. "Welcome to the family, daughter."
Overhead, the moon slid out from behind a cloud, casting its silver light over the two vampires standing in the street, one old and one new, both of them still and satisfied. Farther down the block, Nancy stopped and turned, her crimson eyes finding them. She watched for a long moment, then smiled, showing her fangs, before melting back into the shadows with Carol at her side.