The dim glow of flashlights shined in front of him. By now, Mykel had gotten used to the blinding glow and looked ahead with defiance. Dark blond hair was dishevled about his pale and fair face, marred slightly by the dirt from living in the “cattle” quarters. Pure green eyes sparkled with anger.

The men and women that crowded around him poked and prodded at his arms and his body. The others of his kind squealed and screamed, but he was silent. He was a bleeder, nothing but food to the vampires he loathed. He had accepted his fate a long time ago.

“Back away, you animals,” a smooth voice called out. The crowd around him parted for the speaker. A man in elegant black clothing stepped forward, pulling Mykel up by the arm. A talon-like nail ran down the side of the boy’s face. Mykel considered spitting at him, but resigned. Better to loose a little blood and live than to get smacked so hard your skull gave in.

“You’ll do just fine,” the vampire said, smiling. His fangs made Mykel shake with instinctive fear.

View this story's 2 comments.