Chapter Text
Guest 666 was starving.
Their fingers pressed into the countertop until the wood cracked beneath the tips. Long, sharp nails sank in slowly, carving neat crescents into the grain. The old finish splintered under the pressure, flaking off like brittle scabs. It didn’t matter. The counter was already ruined. Everything in this castle was.
The silence pressed in heavy, fraying at the edges, and suffocating, reminiscent of an old blanket. Not the kind that hummed with distant wind or creaking wood, but the kind that came from deep inside. A hollowing sort of quiet. One that pooled beneath the ribs and curled around the spine. They didn’t feel hunger the way other people did; it wasn’t a sharp pang or a twisting gut. It was something colder. A weight that settled deep into the bone and refused to leave.
It hadn’t fed in… how long? Time was a slippery thing when every room looked the same, when the sun barely reached past the stained glass windows, and when their own reflection didn’t bother to show up anymore. A week? Two? Maybe even go as far as to say a month? It was hard to say. It was long enough for the itch to become unbearable.
The demon exhaled through their nose shakily. The air inside the castle was a biting cold, but it didn’t bother them. It hadn’t for a long time. If anything, they prefer it to the heat.
Still, it could feel something tighten in its chest. Perhaps, restlessness? Or irritation? Maybe both. Its nails scraped across the edge of the counter once more before withdrawing, leaving six shallow gouges behind.
A number that clung to them like a parasite.
It turned toward the hallway silently.
The great room loomed, as lifeless as ever. Moonlight slipped through high cracks in the stained glass, casting pale streaks across the cold stone floor. The air carried dust and the faintest scent of extinguished smoke. Each step was measured, their boots whispering over the stone. A pace like a shadow’s: unhurried and inevitable.
The hunger whispered again. This time, it wasn’t with words, but with sensation. It curled down their throat and pressed against their ribcage. They could feel it in their fingertips, too. They were tingling, prickling, and waiting. That itch for warmth. For blood. For someone alive.
The city wasn’t far. They didn’t live here because it was remote—it truly wasn’t. It was tucked just far enough out of sight to avoid suspicion, but not too far back where it’d round back to being suspicious. But, it was close enough to walk when the hunger came crawling back, no matter how deep they buried it.
And tonight, it had dug its claws in too deep to ignore.
Guest 666 stepped out into the night without a sound. The castle door creaked open on iron hinges that hadn’t been oiled in years, groaning against the weight of the wind. The trees outside swayed lazily, branches skeletal against the clouded sky.
The city lights flickered on the horizon, dull and orange like dying flames. It was late; far past midnight. That was the point. The streets would be emptier. The clubs thinning out. People stumbling home with lowered guards and hazy judgment in groups.
And if they were lucky, someone would be walking alone.
They stepped onto the cracked sidewalk at the edge of the woods, darkness swallowing them whole. Their coat swayed around their boots, long and dark, trailing like smoke in the wind. They passed beneath humming streetlamps, some flickering, some dead.
Its presence was kind of like smoke: seen only if you were really looking for it, felt only when it was already too close.
Streetlights buzzed above with moths swarming every post. Some flickered sporadically, others had long since died, leaving whole sections of sidewalk in darkness. It worked in their favor. Light was a nuisance.
They passed shuttered stores and bars that still blared music behind foggy glass. The kind of places that reeked of sweat and bad decisions. Drunken laughter spilled out every time a door opened. The basslines thudded like heartbeats: messy, human, flawed. Guest 666 kept walking, pushing down any thoughts before they had the chance to surface.
There were people around, of course. Leaning against brick walls with cigarettes between their fingers. Slouched over phones, wobbling in heels or dragging their feet in worn sneakers. But none of them were alone. Arms linked. Phones gripped tight. Groups huddled close in sloppy clusters.
Too risky. A risk it wasn't willing to run unless absolutely desperate, and it hadn’t met that point just yet.
Someone passed the demon as it was deep in thought.
A man in a practically pristine suit, talking into his phone too loudly, laughing at something the person on the other end clearly didn’t find funny, as they didn’t laugh back. His blood reeked of expensive liquor. His heartbeat was strong, but loose.
It followed him for half a block. Imagined the weight of his pulse in its mouth. Imagined the silence that would follow.
But it didn’t hold.
Their laughter grated. Their presence was overbearing, with an appearance cluttered in expensive accessories. If they were to go missing, somebody would certainly notice. All of these pointed to one of the worst feeds Guest 666 could take. The moment soured before it could even begin.
It stopped and let him go, turning in a new direction.
The vampire turned into a side street, one narrow enough that even the streetlight didn’t fully reach it. Their boots hit wet pavement, splashing through old puddles and discarded wrappers. The alley opened onto another block. One much quieter this time, closer to the edge of town. The kind of area where the lights were spread too far apart and the shops didn’t even try to pretend they were open past midnight, honestly all seeming quite abandoned.
They paused in the shadows, listening.
There was breathing. Uneven, irregular, too shallow to be restful. It came from the alley tucked just beside the only thing alive that night… a club. Something barely noticeable over the pulse of music behind closed doors. If anyone else had passed by, they wouldn’t hear it. They wouldn’t look. The streetlights didn’t quite reach that far, and the night had its way of swallowing things.
They could tell it was just one person. No voices. No footsteps. Just the sound of a fragile somebody trying not to fall apart.
Slowly, they rounded the corner, blending easily into the dark. It was second nature to go unseen. Moving like the shadows were meant to make space for them. Every step was careful, calculated, though not quite hesitant.
The figure came into view gradually.
A young adult, perhaps early twenties. Slouched on a low concrete step like they’d sat down too hard or maybe just hadn’t meant to sit at all. Their arms rested limply on their knees. Shoulders slightly hunched. They looked tired. Not the kind of tired sleep could fix, either. There was a frown tugging at the corner of their mouth, and their eyes were cast down, eyebrows drawn close.
They didn’t notice the dangerous presence.
And Guest 666 didn’t move closer. Not yet. They stood there, watching for a moment longer than necessary, taking in the way the other’s chest rose and fell with a shaky rhythm. That sort of breathing meant something. Anxiety, probably.. Or fear. It didn’t really matter which. It all tasted the same, in the end.
It witnessed the mortal stiffen slightly, like a wire pulled taut. Something in their posture drawing tight with the kind of tension that only came from a gut-deep sense of paranoia. Their head snapped up a moment later, definitely quicker, more alert, sharper than Guest expected. Those eyes, still fogged a bit from whatever spiral they’d been in, started scanning the shadows around them.
How unusual.
Most didn’t notice it at all. At least, not unless it wanted to be seen.
But this one… this one paused like they’d felt something, like the air had shifted too subtly to name, like the hairs on the back of their neck had risen before their mind caught up.
A sense of being watched. Of something else being in the dark.
Did they manage to sense the undead?
The guest tilted its head, narrowing its eyes just slightly. Still cloaked in shadow. Still silent.
It watched the mortal’s gaze hover just a few feet to the left of it… close. Not quite on target. But close.
Interesting.
“H–Hello?” Their voice wavered, thin and cautious, as it slipped into the dark. They leaned forward slightly, peering into the thick patch of shadow like it might peel back and reveal something. “Is… Is there anyone there?”
Guest 666 didn’t respond.
The mortal’s voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t confident, either. It was the kind of voice someone used when they didn’t want an answer but asked anyway. When they were hoping they were just being paranoid, that the air wasn’t heavier than it should be. That they hadn’t actually noticed anything.
But they had. Guest could see it in the way their fingers curled around the edge of the step. The way their breath came shorter now, quieter, like they didn’t want to give themselves away.
They leaned in a little more, just enough for their foot to nudge the gravel. Quiet, but not silent.
A test.
The sound was soft, but it scraped across the quiet like a match being struck in the dark.
The mortal flinched. Their head snapped toward the sound, body coiled as if ready to bolt, but they didn’t move. Didn’t run. Just froze there, eyes wide and trying to pierce the shadows that wouldn’t let them see. Their pulse fluttered visibly in their throat, the rise and fall of their chest shallow and uneven.
The demon didn’t step forward. Not yet.
They watched, hidden in that sliver of dark just beyond the reach of the alley light. There was a strange tension in the moment, a thread stretched too tight… neither of them were moving, yet both of them were listening.
Then, the mortal spoke again, quieter this time. “If… If someone’s there, I’m not looking for trouble. I just needed air.”
Their voice was raw now. Earnest in a way that surprised the vampire. No lie, no bluff. Just discomfort and exhaustion laced into the words.
It tilted its head again.
They weren’t sure why they hadn’t already lunged. It would’ve been easy. They could close that distance in less than a second. Sink teeth in, feed quickly, disappear. It had worked before. No witnesses. No trouble.
But something about the way the mortal glanced back again—nervous, yes, but aware—gave it pause. Most people didn’t sense them this early. Most didn’t look like that.
Like they were trying to reason with their own instincts. Trying not to trust their fear.
Interesting.
The vampire took a single, purposeful step out of the shadows. Enough for the light from the streetlamp at the alley’s mouth to kiss the edge of their figure.
Red horns glinted faintly, arching like embers from the Banlands below with a face the same smoldering shade. Their skin was void-dark, swallowing the light, while a rough crimson scruff curled around their neck—too mnemonic of blood to ignore. A long coat draped over their frame, its shaded folds cloaking them like they belonged to the night itself.
Neither of them said a word. The alley felt still, as though the world had stopped turning for a moment. No music leaked through the bricks, no voices spilled from the club doors. Only the two of them, standing there, caught in a strange, tense tango of the eyes.
Then, cautiously, they spoke, “Are you lost?”
The demon didn’t answer. It tilted its head slightly, but that was all. It remained unmoving, half in shadow, half in the pale yellow light spilling from the streetlamp.
Surely, this human couldn't have been this foolish to believe anybody of their design would be an alive, normal person, just like them?
The mortal’s breath caught in their throat. They swallowed hard, trying to steady their voice, but it wavered. “O–Okay. You’re just… standing there. That’s not creepy at all.”
Nothing. No movement, no sound. Just the shape of someone tall, an outline in the darkness. Their eyes were unreadable.
“Look,” They tried again, their voice taking on an edge of forced authority that cracked slightly as they spoke. “If this is some kind of joke, it’s really not funny. You could just say something.”
Fingers curled. They glanced behind them briefly, just a small glance toward the club’s side entrance. Too far. Too much space between. And yet, something kept them from running.
It’s funny how the threat still didn’t move.
They exhaled slowly through their nose. Their heart was pounding. “Okay. You’re probably lost or just really bad at conversation. Cool. Great.” Their voice got a little higher, their words a little faster, laced with panic they were trying to bury under sarcasm. “Listen, I–I’m just gonna go back inside now, and we’re gonna forget this happened. Sound good?”
They took a step back.
Still nothing.
The individual paused, some strange thread tugging at their ribs. “… Why are you just standing there?” they asked, quieter now. Less snark. More honest confusion. “What do you want?”
Guest 666 stepped forward. One slow movement. Then another.
Their eyes widened. Not dramatically, but just enough. Their spine straightened against the chill that prickled down it. The figure was coming closer now, silent as smoke, barely making a sound against the uneven pavement. There was something surreal about it. Like the alley had swallowed all sound except for the rustle of fabric and the faint beat of their heart pounding in their ears.
“Hey– hey, no, don’t…” They stumbled back a half-step, their voice catching in their throat. “I don’t have anything good on me, okay? If this is a mugging or whatever—”
The vampire stopped just a few feet away, face half-hidden by the shadows of the alley. Its gaze wasn’t harsh, not exactly. But it was intense. Like it was trying to figure them out by just… looking. Like it saw something under their skin. Something it wanted. Something it craved.
Their voice dropped, thinner now. “What do you want from me?”
No answer.
It only tilted its head. Not with menace, but just a slight angle, enough for the city light to skim along the brim of its cap, casting a deeper shadow over eyes that were already hard to make out. Harder still to understand.
Far from human.
Their stomach twisted, eyes widening in recognition. It was like catching a glimpse of something in a mirror that shouldn’t be there—like seeing yourself move when you hadn’t.
The pieces hadn’t made sense at first. The silence. The way they’d stepped out of nowhere. That blank, unreadable stare. But now it settled in, like dust or, more fitting, dread. Like waking up already mid-nightmare.
“… Are you gonna hurt me?” the stranger asked, but the words were too thin to sound hopeful for an alternative response... or any response at all. They barely made it past their throat.
It didn’t nod.
But it didn't shake its head either.
It just moved, one last, deliberate step forward, the space between them now thinner than breath. And the stranger felt it then, unmistakably: a cold that didn’t belong. Not the kind that drifted on wind or seeped from brick walls, but something that came from them, quiet and unnatural, curling around the edges of warmth like it wanted to put it out.
Then came the hand.
Lifted slowly. No flourish, no speed. Just that same eerie patience, like time didn’t press on them the way it did everyone else. It reached toward the stranger, not fast enough to startle, but steady enough to tighten the knot in their chest.
The stranger flinched, just a twitch... but they couldn’t help it. Every instinct screamed at them to step back. Run. Shove the figure away. But their body had already gone still, like the cold had seeped in too deep.
The vampire’s hand paused midair. Just before it could touch.
It hovered there. A breath away.
Its hand stayed suspended, not quite trembling, but poised on the edge of something.
It didn’t withdraw.
It didn’t push forward either.
This wasn’t the kind of hesitation the human expected from someone like this.
And it certainly wasn’t the kind of hesitation the demon expected to act out.
That’s when it clicked for the fool.
They stared at the undead, a slow, creeping understanding unfolding behind their eyes. Their mouths felt dry. Their heartbeat pounded up into their throat.
“You’re…” Their voice hitched. “Oh, Spawn… are you one of… them?”
Guest 666 didn’t react. The silence lingered in the air.
The human's hands trembled faintly, but they didn’t back away. Their mind was racing, trying to make sense of the choice laid bare in front of them: run, scream, fight… or…
They licked their lips, tasting fear. But also something else. That same strange instinct that had kept them rooted here. That had kept them from bolting the second they saw those eyes.
They swallowed thickly, pondering their little-to-nothing options mentally.
“If you’re gonna, um… y’know…” they began, the words wobbling out awkwardly. “Then do it. Just… just don’t make it hurt too bad. Alright?”
Its expression didn’t shift, but something in its posture stilled. Like the offer had surprised it. Or unsettled it.
A beat passed.
Then two.
And then, with a movement that barely stirred the air, Guest 666 stepped forward. The distance between them narrowed until fabric brushed fabric, a faint contact that could’ve been imagined if not for the cold weight of presence behind it. They leaned in, their mouth pausing at the curve of exposed skin, as if listening.
The individual didn’t pull away. Their body had already gone still, not frozen in fear, but quiet in a way. A hush settled into their limbs, and the breath in their chest stalled. It wasn’t surrender. Not really. Just a strange sort of pause, like their nerves had recognized something their mind hadn’t.
The bite came slowly.
Teeth pressed through skin, sharp but not violent. There was no gasp, no cry. Only a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth, like the tension of a moment pulled taut. Warmth bloomed immediately, spreading outward in a way that felt wrong only because it wasn’t that painful. It should have hurt. It didn’t.
And so, the vampire drank.
The blood was warm, rich, and marred with very faint bitterness of alcohol. Alcohol that was certainly not expected to be there. The taste clung to its mouth like smoke, dulling the edges, but it was still blood. Still alive. The pulse under its lips flickered fast, then faster. Unsteady. Easy to stop completely.
Fingers touched the edge of their coat. The person didn’t tug or claw… just pressed there as a tether. A human reflex, small and uncertain. The vampire’s hands moved in return, resting gently on their shoulders, more to keep them upright than anything else. It didn’t need to accidentally disconnect and have to pierce the mortal’s neck a second time. How annoying would that be.
The tension in the mortal's frame was building now, a tremble beginning low in their back and tightening through their chest.
Their breath was hitched. It started staggering, as if they had suddenly remembered they were supposed to be breathing.
Their head tilted slightly, eyes unfocused, and the alley blurred around them. The air felt dense, like it had turned to water. Every sound was distant now, muffled by the blood rushing in their ears.
Then, finally, Guest 666 pulled back.
Its mouth left the skin with a careful slowness, lips lingering just long enough for the ghost of warmth to remain. Twin marks were crimson and beginning to well, but neat. Nothing excessive. Nothing messy.
Most likely its cleanest bite. It was beautiful, despite the violent nature of it all.
The stranger's vision swam, the alley walls now feeling too close and too far at once. The demon was standing far too close for it to make sense. They leaned against the cold stone for support, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Their hand moved to their neck, fingertips brushing the mark with vague disbelief.
“I, uh, should get going,” they muttered after a minute of attempting to catch their breath, barely above a whisper. “I can make it home. It’s not too far.”
Their voice was rough, tinged with a forced calmness, but they still couldn’t stop their hands from trembling. The air felt colder now, or maybe it was just their body in the aftermath of being drained.
They started to push away from the wall when the entity gave them space, but their legs felt like jelly beneath them, and they stumbled before catching themselves. “Okay, maybe I just need a minute...”
As they steadied themselves, they felt something in the air shift. There was no movement, no sound. But somehow, they could feel the weight of Guest’s gaze on them, as if studying their every shift. The silence stretched between them, pressing down like a thick blanket.
They glanced at the vampire, trying to read the unreadable. “Why are you so concerned about me walking home?”
There was no immediate response from Guest. But then, a small shift; a barely noticeable tightening of its posture, a subtle tensing of its shoulders. It wasn’t exactly them denying the claim, but it was enough to convey the unspoken message that no, you should not go home unsupervised.
They weren’t sure why the unvoiced answer struck them like it did. Maybe it was the way it settled so naturally in the air, as if this was a simple truth—an obvious one, despite their own hesitation. The truth they hadn’t really wanted to face until now: the danger. The risk. The possibility of someone else finishing the job.
If Guest 666 left them here, they certainly wouldn’t make it. It wasn’t really guilt that tightened their jaw… it was logic. If a body like this was pushed too far and fainted at some dead street, it would draw attention. If a different mortal stumbled across them, there’d be questions. Someone hopefully might call for help. Or they might not. Some would assume they was a drunk passed out in the dark and keep walking. Others might stop but not out of kindness. Curiosity, maybe. Or worse.
But if it wasn’t a mortal…
Well, that’s where the real danger lay.
Another vampire would smell the blood before they saw the body. A younger one, maybe. One that’s starving. One that’s too reckless for anybody’s good. The scent hanging on the air would be enough to lure them in like moths to a flame. They wouldn’t ask questions and they wouldn’t hesitate. They’d see the exposed neck with a fluttering pulse, and finish what Guest 666 had started without a second thought. No restraint. No consideration. Just insatiable hunger.
And this stranger—this unfortunate, fragile, idiotic stranger—would be dead before they even had a chance to open their eyes.
A few hours more (maybe they wouldn’t even be granted that), and someone would find them. That was all it would take.
It tried to ignore how that thought made it uneasy. If another vampire left behind a mess, one that could’ve been avoided had it acted tonight, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be able to feed again for weeks. Not until things settled, anyway.
Others of its kind had a habit of being sloppy. Careless, even. They didn’t clean up after themselves, leaving behind messes that either others had go clean up, or went reported.
It forced itself to pay attention to its human again, putting a stop to its thoughts.
Their movements were slow, almost as though each step required conscious effort. They walked through and away from the alley, the faint sounds from the club growing quieter with each passing second, until they were almost entirely absorbed by the distance.
The street stretched out before them, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long shadows against the pavement. Their steps faltered every now and then, and the vampire could sense the hesitation in their body, like they were unsure of the world around them.
Their gaze shifted briefly, but they didn’t look directly at the demon. It stayed still, observing, understanding the subtle discomfort in their movement, the way their head seemed to search for something, a quiet acknowledgment of the unseen presence behind them.
The mortal continued walking, reaching the end of the street and paused, looking back and peering just once. For a brief moment, it caught the faintest glimpse of their face. It noticed how they looked… more relieved?
With a very visible deep inhale, the human turned and continued toward the house.
The undead stayed where it was, hidden in the dark, watching, and waiting.
When they reached the front steps, they paused. Their hand lingered by their pocket, fingers brushing against the key. It wasn’t quick or practiced, but more like they were fumbling, unsure of the next move. They tugged at the keyring, clumsy in the way they turned it over, trying to fit it into the lock. Their breath was shallow now, a soft exhale escaping as they struggled with the key, the tension building in the air with each moment that passed.
Guest 666 could see their fingers tremble, a slight shake in their hand that betrayed the uncertainty they were carrying. They glanced over their shoulder once more, but there was nothing to see, only the dark, empty street. They took a sharp breath, shoulders stiffening slightly as if trying to shake the feeling off, then returned their attention to the door.
There was a momentary pause, a breath held between the two of them. And then, with a soft click, the door swung open. It watched as they stepped inside, the dim light from within spilling out briefly, casting a fleeting glow on its face. It was a brief, distant glimpse, but it told everything—the lines of exhaustion, the shadow of something unsaid. The door closed almost too quickly, shutting the beast out from the world inside, leaving the night once again silent.
… It hoped to whatever that human believed in, that no other vampire would follow their scent all the way back to their house.