Aidan

Aidan generally hunted just after James had left. He knew his eyes and his scent would betray him if his best friend were to see him not long after he had fed. His schedule was quickly becoming a desperate chassé-croisé to keep these aspects of his life separate.

He had to admit that he was seeing James less and less, though. Ironically not because James had no longer time for him but because it was hard to keep the mask on when they were together. All this had started because he was afraid of losing James. But maybe it was better to lose him this way than to simply watch James forget about him.

That was all of the things he was trying to get away from in the blood of his victims. But if he were to be honest, it was not even about that any longer. He had never really gotten used to animal blood, and the first drop from his first victim had pushed him over the edge.

Aidan only tried to keep his mind clear now, to not completely sink either into the oblivion of bliss or into the darkness of the anger once the pleasure stopped.

James had left his house fifteen minutes ago and Aidan had started wandering the streets in a hurry, deeply focused on his goal while the rest of the world seemed to blur. The afternoon was sunny and there were people everywhere.

He had to find a smaller street. In the crowd, a man pushed him because he was in his way. Aidan's senses were overwhelmed. He realized he may not be able to reach a more isolated part of the city in the state he was in. He had to leave this square, and fast.

Aidan tried to concentrate. He imagined he was in one of his paintings, where he had control over everything, and where he was safe. And he walked slowly to a narrower street, where he could finally breathe.

At the corner of two empty alleys, an old woman attracted his attention. In a second, his sharpness came back. Only she existed now, and the veins throbbing in her neck. He moved so fast she couldn't see him and he bit her so quickly she didn't have the time to scream. She got limp in his arms and he felt the rush he had looking for in every part of his being.

Aidan kept her corpse against him for a minute before the wave of disgust overruled him as it always did. He put her body on the ground and looked at her, the conflicted feelings disorienting him: the soft pleasure of the blood clouding his mind and the shame and horror clawing their teeth in his heart.

He heard some voices, very close. He didn't have the time to hide the body. In a panic, he slid himself through the first open gate he saw, closed it behind him, and lurked in the deserted courtyard of the mansion.

He looked around him to find a path to get away without being caught. He walked carefully to the other side of the courtyard and caught a glimpse of the room, where a man stood. Before he even understood that he was also a vampire, Aidan froze at the sight of the canvas in front of the man.

Aidan saw first the painting, then the painter, and finally the model.

The painter turned slowly towards him, his eyes stern and his expression unreadable.

"Mattia, it will be all for today," he said, without a look at his model, his eyes still locked on Aidan. "Thank you very much. You can go home, now."

The two vampires were now alone, but none of them moved.