CHAPTER 20: SOMETIMES, I REALLY HATE BEING A VAMPIRE...

An hour and a half.

A freaking hour and a half by train to reach Cold Spring, a small village on the Hudson River surrounded by woods and mountains.

Yeah, the perfect place to quench my thirst.

I tried to hold back as long as I could, I swear.

But the few drops I managed to drink from Isabelle or Mrs. Lunsford weren’t even close to enough.

And with the outskirts of New York being patrolled by the Monster Reapers in search of the so-called head-chopping vampire, there’s nothing left to do but go hunting elsewhere.

As usual, Isabelle thinks I’m with Elaine, and Elaine thinks I’m out with some milf picked up at a lounge bar.

Honestly, I’d rather be in either of those places than stuck here in the middle of nowhere, hunting for prey.

Yeah... sometimes being a vampire is a real pain in the ass.

A man in the woods—I was drawn by the suspicious barking of a dog.

A hunter, apparently.

Easy to tell from the rifle in one hand and a flashlight in the other, standing next to his loyal hound.

But... the sun has completely set and it’s pitch black! What the hell is he hunting at this hour?

Doesn’t matter—he’ll get to feel what it’s like to be hunted instead.

I approach slowly, hiding behind thick tree trunks and using the darkness as cover.

My steps are so light I don’t make a sound on the dried leaves and twigs scattered across the ground.

As a vampire, it makes no difference to my eyes whether it’s day or the dead of night.

Right now, they’re glowing a vivid crimson.

—WOOF! WOOF!

That damn dog starts barking suddenly in my direction—shit, I didn’t expect that, scared the hell out of me!

The hunter raises his rifle to chest level and moves forward slowly and cautiously.

Why is he holding it so high?

He must be hunting bears or something big, otherwise aiming low would make more sense.

Whatever, not like I’m here to give him a hunting lesson... or maybe I am?

A deep cut opens on my palm, and the blood dripping from it forms into a solid crimson scythe.

If he really is after bears or other big predators, a shredded corpse shouldn’t raise too much suspicion.

At worst, Cold Spring’s residents might start some bear extermination campaign—like I give a shit about bears, as long as the Monster Reapers stay out of it.

«What is it, Bran? Did you sniff out a bear?» the man whispers to his hound.

Oh, so the dog’s name is Bran? I was right then—he really is hunting bears.

Probably does it at night to catch them while they sleep.

What a brave little hunter we’ve got here...

The man gets closer, one step at a time... one step at a time, and...

—SLASH!

A swift, clean strike.

His head rolls across the leaves, and his body collapses a moment later with a dull thud—he didn’t even have time to feel fear.

Well, that’s a good thing, right? I spared him a moment of terror—he died happy, thinking he was about to corner a big bear.

But now there’s a problem.

A big one.

That damn hound won’t stop barking, growling, baring its teeth—not that I’m a dog expert, but it doesn’t look friendly.

It looks like it’s about to lunge at me, even though it’s backing off... maybe it’s scared, and that’s why it’s making so much noise?

I’ve got nothing against it—dog blood is some of the most disgusting stuff out there.

But seriously, it’s way too loud! If it keeps barking, it might attract attention.

And when I eat, I like peace and quiet—not a creature screaming its lungs out.

My cold blood-red eyes stay fixed on it.

I swing the scythe near him, trying to scare him off, but the little bastard keeps growling at me.

I would’ve let it go, but it’s not leaving me a choice.

—SLASH!

Okay, now I can enjoy my dinner in peace. Or... that was the idea.

I haven’t even had time to grab the hunter’s head and bring it to my lips to sip the still-warm blood... when a bear appears behind me, roaring so loudly and suddenly it nearly makes me choke from shock.

It’s not like I’m afraid of bears, but it’s like when you’re focused and your idiot friend jumps out screaming just to mess with you.

It must’ve been drawn by the dog’s growling or the scent of blood.

Now the bastard looks like it wants to steal my prey.

I do the dirty work, and you want the prize? Clever bear.

Not that I care about the corpse—I only want the blood.

The rest he can have.

I take a few steps back from the body, making it clear he’s welcome to help himself, and that calms him down a bit.

Maybe that dramatic entrance was just to scare me off, thinking he’d have to fight me for the meal.

Do bears even think? I doubt it, but this one seems to have good instincts—and a strong survival sense.

Honestly, if he’d come at me, he’d be signing his own death warrant.

What a weird scene.

Me, sitting on a thick root, sipping blood from the man’s neck like it’s broth from a bowl... and a massive brown bear just a few steps away, calmly eating the rest of the body like we’re two old friends dining together.

Yeah, not something you see every day.

And honestly, the bear’s arrival was a blessing—now, not even the Monster Reapers would suspect that this man was killed by a vampire.

This hunting night turned out pretty lucky!

Too bad there’s still an hour and a half before the train back to Manhattan.

If all goes well, I should be at Elaine’s by 1 AM—and what’s better after a good blood feast?

Easy, a cold beer!

After wiping the blood off my face, I head to the only inn still open in Cold Spring, ready to chug down a huge mug of beer.

Luckily, it’s pretty empty—just three men, a woman, and a kid no older than five.

So I can even enjoy my beer in relative peace.

«Where the hell did Matt go? We can’t wait here all night!» grumbles one of the men, hiccuping from too much wine.

They’re sitting not far from me, so I can hear their conversation clearly—thanks to my vampire-enhanced hearing.

«That idiot probably got lost, I’m telling you! That forest’s a maze during the day, let alone at night! I just hope he doesn’t come back without that bear’s pelt, or I’ll be teasing him until morning,» another adds, clearly just as drunk.

Oh... don’t worry.

He won’t come back with the bear’s pelt—in fact, he won’t come back at all.

But then...

...the kid tugs on the woman’s sleeve.

«Mom, when is Dad coming back? I’m sleepy... I wanna go to bed...» he whines, yawning.

«Daddy will be here soon, don’t worry,» the woman reassures him. «If he’s not back in five minutes, we’ll go home, okay?»

«No, Mom, I want Dad... He said he’d finish reading me the fairy tale book tonight, so I’m waiting for him to go home,» the kid replies, his tired but glowing smile full of excitement.

The woman shakes her head and sighs.

«Don’t worry, sweetheart. This is the last time that stubborn man goes out hunting at night. If he’s not back in five minutes, he’ll hear from me tomorrow!»

«Don’t scold Dad, Mom. He’s nice. Dad will come back, and we’ll all go home together,» the kid murmurs, still smiling.

A smile like that kills me inside, knowing that kid’s dad will never come home again.

And it’s all my fault.

I can’t take it—I have to get out of here.

One more word from that child and I might lose it.

Damn guilt... whoever created vampires must’ve been a total idiot.

That bear definitely wouldn’t have felt any remorse or guilt if it had killed the hunter to eat him... so why do I?

Why did this so-called Vampire God think it was a good idea to create ruthless predators and give them feelings?

It’s completely counterproductive for the survival of the species!

It’s like if sheep were plagued by guilt every time they ate a blade of grass—they’d be extinct already!

Sometimes, I really hate being a vampire...