Blood Thief

Image: NeuPaddy (Pixabay)

The blood thief skulked about the alley, hovering in corners with watchful eyes gleaming.

The people flowed without, and she quickly found her mark, a young healthy boy attended by his mother, with a bare patch of skin by his ankle.

It was the skill of the blood thief to never arouse suspicion, even as she circled and followed her prey. The little boy barely noticed that a deadly predator followed him from the street and into his home.

Once the door was shut, the blood thief observed the place for escape routes. Yes, yes, a wide balcony, airy windows, it would do nicely.

And she noticed the many pots of plants and vines about the room, bringing green cheer to the place. She grinned wickedly. “I was getting thirsty,” she mused.

The little boy had just emerged from a shower, glowing pink.

As the door shut on his bedroom, she slipped in by the crack, unseen.

Within the hallowed space of his sleeping chamber, the queen of the house kissed her little prince goodnight, as shadows of mobile stars danced upon the ceiling, lulling him to sleep. “Good night,” said his mom, shutting the door.

“Good night,” said the blood thief exultantly. She floated out tentatively from behind the door, monstrous despite her size, and floated over the child’s bed. An arm was thrown carelessly over the coverlet, due to the heat. She sank nearer, to claim her prize…

First she formed a topagon with her feeler, then an octagon with her right tentacle, while spiralling around counterclockwise in obeisance to the Clock Gods.

The child’s arm glowed blue, red, then orange, and a tiny gobbet of blood, no larger than a teaspoon appeared above his elbow and floated into the blood thief’s waiting flask.

“A-then, again, child!” cackled the blood thief.

She snatched a bottle of plant and water off the counter before leaping into the midnight air with a cackle of maniacal magic.

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