Chapter 7: Proper Introductions

Jonathan willed himself to move, to stand up and run out of the office. What the hell was he doing here? Every instinct in his body told him there was something dangerous happening.

But he didn’t move. All he could do was stare at Alphonse from across the desk.

“Jonathan, I must admit to some dishonesty on my part. I know a little about you. It’s amazing what you can find online, you know,” Alphonse almost purred. “You attended Van Gannison University until this year, where you earned your bachelor’s degree in English. You have little work experience to speak of other than your time at that café I found you at.”

Jonathan stared mutely, squirming on the inside. Most of that you’d be able to figure out through social media, but how had Alphonse learned his name?

Alphonse continued. “You remained in San Luis to try applying at the university’s master’s program, although you… how should I say it? Didn’t make the cut this year.”

Anger boiled up in Jonathan at this. He managed to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut. He felt sudden relief from whatever was keeping him from moving, and jerked his head to the side, holding onto the arms of the chair.

Moving as little as possible, he managed a, “F*ck you!”, but felt somehow pathetic after. All his anger at his rejection being used against him, and all he could get out was that?

“A sore subject I suppose,” he heard Alphonse hum.

Jonathan felt sweat beading his forehead as he strained to move even a little bit to get away. He’d run out the door, down the hall, into the street. Once he was far enough from it all, he’d call the cops, and tell them…

Alphonse chuckled softly. “And tell them what? You came into my office, alone, froze up, and ran into the night, and because of this, I should be locked in handcuffs and brought before a judge?”

Shock nearly made Jonathan open his eyes. Had he said something out loud? No, surely, he didn’t… then how did Alphonse know what he was thinking about?

“You see, Jonathan. You are right to think that what’s happening is strange. Your body is not doing what you want it to, it is hard to think straight. I’ve watched this happen to, oh, so many people before you.”

A cold hand brushed Jonathan’s cheek, and he sucked in a shaky breath. “Thousands, Jonathan… But you would not believe your luck. Look at me. Open your eyes, and look.”

Every conscious thought in Jonathan’s mind screamed to squeeze his eyes tighter, to look away and break free. But he could feel it happening. His muscles relaxed against his will, and his eyes slowly opened.

He was a blurry line, first, but once he came into view, Jonathan could see Alphonse was leaning against the desk in front of him. Alphonse’s gaze fell upon Jonathan, and he felt all his resistance melt.

Alphonse bared his teeth in a wide smile and opened his mouth as wide as he could. Jonathan could only watch in horror as fangs extended from in front of Alphonse’s teeth.

“Oh G*d,” he thought, “I’m dead.”

Again, Alphonse chuckled, and this time it grew into a louder, deep, rich laughter. He clutched at his sides and doubled over, and Jonathan could see his sides heaving as he struggled to breathe, unable to stop for air.

Finally, the laughter slowed, and Alphonse stood up straight, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, Jonathan, Jonathan, sweet Jonathan. It is with my deepest regret that I inform you, it is much worse than that.”

Suddenly, Alphonse was on his knees by Jonathan’s left side, holding his limp arm in both hands. “If I had wanted to take your life, I would have taken it last night. Your back was turned to me in the alleyway, and I could hear the blood coursing through your veins like they were my own,” Alphonse said as he lifted Jonathan’s arm to his cheek.

“Truth be told, this is foolish. But watching as you fled to your little apartment, an exquisite feeling came over me, and I realized you were not simply… prey.”

Alphonse turned his back to Jonathan’s face, and tucked his arm under his own, so that it was locked in place. Jonathan’s head rolled back, limp, and he felt numb all over.

Numb except for his left wrist, where he suddenly felt a warm breath of air. The warmth was followed by the sharp sensation of something gently pricking his skin. The pressure increased, and he felt something sink into his flesh.

A low moan left his lips as he heard Alphonse’s voice inside his head. “No, I will have more of you than just a night’s feast.”

Jonathan felt darkness overtaking his vision slowly, like thick curtains being drawn on a room. He felt as if the air around him was getting warmer but found that really, his stomach was growing cold, as if he were freezing from the inside out.

The numbing of his skin combined with the warmth he experienced formed together into a somewhat pleasant sensation all over his body, as if he were falling asleep wrapped in a heated blanket.

Just as his consciousness was about to fade, he felt Alphonse’s voice in his mind again, coming from all around him: “From this mortal body, not blood alone will please me.”

With a gasp of air, Jonathan felt sensation return to his body. His chest heaved as his lungs desperately pumped for air. He was strangely weak.

Jonathan’s head rolled limply toward his left side. Alphonse had released his arm and was out of sight. At his wrist, Jonathan saw a faint red outline, and four small red dots.

Alphonse suddenly appeared again at Jonathan’s side, and Jonathan managed to squirm in his seat, hands trying to grab the arms of the chair. But he was too weak to move.

A warm hand gently held his own, suddenly, and turned it so his wrist faced up. He watched as Alphonse wiped away at the bloody spots on his wrist, leaving no mark behind.

Before Jonathan could protest, he felt Alphonse’s arms around him, picking him up with his legs over one arm and his back cradled in the other. Alphonse’s chest, his arms, everywhere his body touched Jonathan was warm; almost unbearably hot.

The vampire looked down at him, and his thin lips parted in a smile.

“Rest now,” he said, and Jonathan’s eyes closed.