Chapter Text
Thalia prided herself on being able to pick out weak prey. She had been alive for almost a millennium, without a sire for centuries, and without a coven for decades. She knew how to fend for herself, and she knew how to find a snack before going at all hungry. It was easy really to find the best prey. She was a wolf among sheep. Her eyes easily picked out the weak, young, and alone lingering at the edge of the flock. Yet, unlike a wolf, it was easy for her to wander amongst them without their knowledge even though recently the human populace had been a bit skittish given current events. She had learned to disguise herself well long ago and none of them looked at her twice.
Today, she had set her sights on a boy. He was on the cusp of being a man, though he was not quite there. He was short, but he looked like he was probably done growing in height. She imagined he’d still have baby fat in his cheeks if he had any fat to spare. As it was, he was rather skinny and looked tired. She’d picked up immediately on the old, patched clothing with dirt and grime ground in so thoroughly it was almost part of the fabric. There was dirt under his nails and on his face. She followed him for a bit, noting as he bought the least expensive food stuff from the market. She rarely found need to eat human food, but even she knew that the bread he bought must be stale and would not taste good. He was clearly poor and weak. As long as he didn’t meet up with someone, he’d be easy pickings.
Luck was on her side because he left the market without meeting up with any friends or family, heading away down the streets of one of the poorer areas. He looked around himself warily every so often, but his eyes never landed on her in the shadows.
She followed him farther into the more and more decrepit neighborhoods. There were some drug addled humans stumbling about, but their tainted blood did not interest her no mater how easy they would be, especially when she was tracking much better prey. She was in no rush, so she didn’t attack even though she doubted the people around would be able to do much. She waited until he turned onto a completely abandoned alleyway, and he was totally alone.
She was on him in a flash, one arm coming up to pull him into a mockery of a hug, the hold as firm as an iron bar across his chest. The other hand reached up to grab his hair and pull his head to the side. He didn’t even have time to struggle. She almost felt bad. “No hard feelings kid,” she said, teeth an inch from his neck. “It’s just the food chain.”
She had just a moment to think that something about the way he tensed was wrong for the circumstances before something metal and cold touched her arm. All of her limbs immediately went rigid and then limp. It had been electricity, but with something extra and magical. An aftertaste of cinnamon and lavender burnt the back of her throat as she collapsed onto the ground.
She was left dazed, but she still managed to string enough thoughts together to wonder if somehow a hunter had slipped under her radar. Usually, she could tell. Hunters were well cared for in ways it was impossible to hide. They should be well fed. Dirt they might roll around in to make themselves appear meeker should not be cracked and dried and layered.
If he were a hunter, there would be a wooden stake in her chest by now. He would not have grabbed her by the ankles to drag her seeming to be having trouble with it besides. She was put on something wooden, and a dirty, smelly old blanket was tossed carelessly over her. After a few seconds. the thing she was laying on began to move and she could hear wheels clicking as they turned. Her body was jostled every time they hit a grove in the unpaved sidewalk.
What the hell was happening?
She continued to try to move, but whatever she’d been shocked with was not fading, leaving her to lay paralyzed as she was carted away somewhere. She still could do nothing more than slightly twitch her nose by the time the movement stopped.
The blanket was ripped off of her and she blinked up at a grey ceiling. With effort, she was able to move her neck a bit. It was enough to figure out they were in some sort of garage or maybe a storage unit. It was slightly warmer than it had been outside and smelled of herbs, wet concrete, and human.
The human was standing above her and to the side, but he didn’t even spare her a glance. “Tommy,” the boy called softly, and a pile of blankets and towels shifted, a head of blond hair popping out. Another boy who appeared to be about the same age as the one who had taken her (though looks could be deceiving) struggled to his feet, seeming a bit dazed and confused.
When Thalia got a good look at him, she was shocked. It was a fledgling, and a young one. A stumbling confusedly on its legs like a baby deer who’d never walked young. He couldn’t be more than a week or two turned, weak, shaky, and vulnerable from the process. Any good sire would have him still in a bed and being plied with gentle touches and everything he needed. He must have been scorned.
Yet, after her initial thoughts, she realized something even stranger. He was physically young, young enough he’d need human food for a few years to continue growing. Turning someone that young was strange, but not unheard of. What was unheard of was the fact that there was a human in the room and neither the human nor the fledgling (probably the fledgling with how clearly weak it was) was dead. Fledglings, particularly ones turned too young were vicious and uncontrollable in the presence of humans. It was an instinct meant to protect them in their vulnerable state as humans were likely to try to squash their own predators before they could defend themselves. Though, this often led to the fledgling’s death. Yet, this one did not lunge for the human. And it wasn’t as though the fledgling was restrained or couldn’t get to the human. He was fully free, taking a stumbling step towards them. The human… the human stepped forward. He grabbed the fledgling around the waist to steady him and the fledging let out a wounded noise, clearly racked with hunger, but not going for the neck.
“It’s okay,” the human said. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“Hurts,” the fledging bit out. His fangs were fully distended, but they only dug into the flesh of his own lips.
“I know,” the human soothed. “We’re going to get you fed and then get you back to bed.” He turned a cold gaze on Thalia. “No hard feelings,” he said with unsympathetic eyes. “It’s just the food chain.”
And Thalia with dawning horror, suddenly understood. Not the events that led up to this, but the events that were about to take place. Because, while a fledgling as young as this would normally be mindlessly attacking any human that came near, it wouldn’t actually be able to digest human blood yet. For the first five to six years after being turned, a vampire was meant to rely on the blood of their sire or adult nestmates, though in the case of a scorned, any adult vampire’s blood would do.
“Do…” the fledgling asked. “Do I have to…?”
“Drink? Yes. Kill her? No, but don’t feel bad if you do on accident. She’ll be meeting the sun come morning either way.”
The fledgling seemed hesitant, taking one stumbling step closer, but that was all.
“She was going to eat me,” the human divulged. “So, it isn’t like it’s not deserved.”
“She did?” the fledging asked, eyes flashing and wobbling posture suddenly steading at least a bit.
“Mhmm,” the human said. “Tracked me all the way from the market and went to bite me in an alley.”
The fledgling looked down at her, eyes still bright blue at this point and hissed. It was a weak sound compared to similar ones other vampires might make when angry, but impressive in a morbid sort of way for one so young.
“Go on now,” the human urged. “Got to get your strength up.”
The human didn’t even turn away when the fledgling went for her neck. He just stared as she became the prey.