Between Shadows

Between Shadows: Chapter 05-B (Dulled Appetite)

Silas drifted through the streets after he left Lorian’s apartment, coat collar pulled high against the chill. He stopped in front of the Filigree, briefly considering turning in for the night. Hunger quickly won the argument, pushing him further into the city.

The nightlife tumbled out of doorways and half-lit alleys—music bleeding from bars, laughter and cheers breaking against brick walls. For a moment, he let his senses sharpen—a man tied to his phone at the back entrance of the bar, engaged in a heated argument; a woman leaning over the railing of the fire access outside her apartment, glass of wine dangling from her hand; a small group enjoying drinks off the estuary. But the idea of easy prey soured his mood, and his appetite quickly dulled.

Finally, he settled on a bar a safe distance away from the Filigree. He’d walked for an hour, letting himself get used to the crowds. The warmth that enveloped him when he stepped in was almost suffocating.

Silas took a seat at the bar, ordering bourbon when the bartender approached. He downed the drink, and it was immediately replaced. He took the second drink with him, easing into one of the corner booths. He removed his coat and tugged his collar open for a slightly more relaxed look, then tousled his hair, brushing it to one side.

A waitress approached, setting a glass and a carafe of water on the table. “Already know what you want, or would you like to look at a menu?”

“Just drinks tonight,” he said, taking the smaller menu, pretending to look it over. “Maybe a bottle of champagne.” She started to say something, but decided against it with the next look he gave her.

He took another drink, relaxing back into his seat, watching the crowd again. The bar was empty, most people opting to dine at the booths instead. A few passes, and his eyes kept traveling back to the bartender, whose gaze hadn’t left him. Silas allowed himself a smile—a little too sharp, but a subtle invitation nonetheless—as someone came up behind the bartender to exchange keys. The bartender removed his apron as he headed to the back, hanging it on the door.

The waitress approached with champagne and two flutes. She set one in front of Silas and slowly poured it to the brim, leaving the second untouched in the middle of the table. A few minutes later, the bartender slid into the seat across from him. Silas raised an eyebrow as the man poured himself a glass, too fast, bubbling over the edge. Nervous, or overeager—he’d take either.

The expression that crept onto his face told both stories. He went for one of the napkins, quickly cleaning up as if nothing had happened. Silas raised his glass, and the other mirrored, quickly drinking it down to a more manageable level.

“David,” the man said, extending a hand in a habitual formality. Silas returned the greeting, grasping his hand. He could see it in his expression—faint surprise at the chill in his grip.

“Pleasure,” Silas said with a warmth that didn’t match his grip. He pulled his hand back, slowly. “Silas. But you already expected that.”

David nodded. He pulled back, retreating into the seat as though he realized he’d already overcommitted, too forward. “Hard not to hear that name around here. But I admit I thought you’d be a little more…”

“Intimidating?” Silas asked, setting his glass down and folding his arms. “The very name that shaped the hospitality industry can’t very well be intimidating.” A flash of fangs, pulled quickly behind his smile, just enough to leave the man second-guessing what he’d seen. Silas finished the glass of champagne, fidgeting with a button on the cuff of his sleeve. “You’re staring again. You’ll burn a hole in me if you keep that up.”

“Sorry, just—” He looked away.

“Nervous?” Silas laughed, showing teeth again—normal, if not a bit too clean. “Don’t be. You just accepted my invitation.” He leaned forward a bit more, propping his head up on his hand, pressing at the edges of the man’s consciousness. Nervous energy started to bubble into something more anxious, too busy. He pressed harder, searching for the gaps. “Do relax, I was only joking. I don’t mind your staring.”

He met Silas’s gaze again. Silas took advantage of the moment, slipping past the barrier. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, sitting back again, swirling bourbon in the tumbler. “You look a bit pale.”

“Yeah, just more tired than I thought,” David said, taking another drink. He set the glass down, relaxing a bit as he watched the bubbles. “Long day. I should probably head home.”

“Of course,” Silas said, gathering his coat. “Why don’t I make sure you get back safely?” He folded a few bills under the bundle of silverware before he moved to help him up.

—

The apartment was a short walk from the bar, just a few blocks over. They arrived at a building toward the back of the property. David fumbled for his keys before unlocking the door, stepping inside. Silas stopped before the threshold, just close enough to get a glimpse inside.

David pushed the door further open. “Come in for a bit. Don’t have much of a bar here, but I can get you some water.”

Silas hesitated for a moment, as if he might turn back, but stepped in anyway. David was already in the kitchen, filling a glass of water at the tap. Silas closed the door behind him. The place wasn’t anything impressive, but it was clean, newly remodeled, and not quite lived-in. Likely expensive, being so close to the city’s hub. He sat at the end of the sofa, taking the glass from David and setting it on the end table.

He started to take a seat at the other end of the sofa, but Silas caught his wrist, pulling him down next to him. Silas could see the question forming, but put it out of his mind before he had the chance to ask. His gaze flickered, a faint light catching in the depths of his eyes. David swallowed, the sound almost imperceptible in the quiet apartment. Silas’s grip held. He leaned in, his breath a cool whisper against David’s ear.

"Relax," Silas murmured, the single word weaving into David’s thoughts, a command he couldn't ignore. The anxious energy that had been building dissipated, replaced by a strange calm, a willing surrender.

His pulse slowed as Silas leaned further, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of David’s neck. A sharp, fleeting sting as fangs sank in, a lazy contentment seeping into his veins. He didn't fight, didn’t even think of it. He just existed, a passive recipient to the insistent pull at his life's essence, a gentle drain that promised oblivion.

For a moment, he tried to lift his hand—a test of motion. Silas’s grip tightened, holding his arm in place as his jaw tensed, drinking deeply. David sank into the sofa as his pulse picked up, too weak. His vision began to darken at the edges. Silas only pulled back when he felt his heart falter, a split second of silence.

“What are—”

Silas raised a finger to the man’s lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nothing you’ll remember," he said quietly. “Survive until morning and all you’ll remember is a sleepless night and a drink too many.” He leaned back, a faint smile playing on his features, watching the last vestiges of comprehension fade from David's eyes as darkness finally claimed him.