The fledgling Nephilim hadn’t noticed him yet as it staggered beneath the underpass. The boy had stumbled down the muddy incline from the road above, his pores reeking of drunkenness even from Ryder’s position thirty feet away. Ryder rose from his crouch, the rain hurrying to soak the few places on his body that had remained dry. He supposed that he should have felt the water as it ran down his limbs, or at least suffered the chilling bite of the October air. The Nephilim was cold enough if it’s frantically chattering teeth were any indication, but Ryder remained immune to the afflictions of the weather on his body. Even now in his lesser form Ryder was far stronger than the Nephilim could ever hope to be.
It had noticed him now, its eyes widening in a sleepy sort of shock. There would be no sport in this sadly, the Nephilim’s angelic blood had barely begun to manifest and Ryder doubted the boy was even aware that it was anything special. Not bothering to hide himself anymore, Ryder straightened to his full six feet of height. The rain slicked down his dark leather coat and black jeans, dripping down his face from his black locks. He breathed in the intoxicating scent of the Nephilim’s fear as he stalked closer. No longer needing to maintain his façade, Ryder let his true form manifest. His skin began to bubble and slough off in sheets, revealing the glistening, midnight blue scales beneath. Dagger-like teeth protruded from his gums, pushing his blunt human teeth out. They clattered across the pavement, chattering like the Nephilim’s own teeth. It was shaking by now as it back up to the cement wall of the underpass. Ryder flicked his tongue out testing the air.
“S-Stay back. I don’t got any moneys.” It slurred as it puffed out its chest in a laughable attempt to frighten him. Ryder couldn’t help himself; He dissolved into laughter, grinning as its eyes widened.
“It’s not your money I’m after, boy.”
“Then what do yous want?”
“Your soul.”
***
Ryder licked his claws clean as he trudged through the back alleys of the city. He had always found their deaths fascinating, not simply because their pain amused him but because they bleed so profusely. That was something Ryder had never experienced, along with never feeling the bite of the frost or the warmth of the sun. He was sure if he could bleed his would hum with sheer power. The Nephilim tonight had been barely enough to quench his thirst, its blood muddy with weakness. It had been weeks since he had found one that fully filled him. That sniveling fledgling was nothing like the ones he remembered from his birth over a century ago. Back then the streets had been so filled with angel blood he and his brethren could have thrown a stone and hit two before it touched the ground. His thin lips twisted up into a smile as he remembered the feasts his den had gorged themselves on. Now though there were hardly any Nephilim left in this city and they’d been reduced to fighting amongst themselves for the little prey left.
Just as Ryder turned the corner onto Fifth Avenue the wind swept rose-scented air into his face along with the chilling rain. Instantly his mouth watered and his head snapped in the direction it had blown in from. The scent was think and heady; The Nephilim was either very strong or very close. Ryder shrank back into the shadows, skulking along the edges of buildings just out of reach of the street light’s beams. At last he spotted a figure hurrying across the street in front of him and he froze. The girl’s boots sloshed ever time she took a step, obviously saturated with rain. The Nephilim clutched a bag to its chest in an attempt to keep it under its umbrella, though judging by the way the girl’s soaked jeans and coat clung to its body Ryder doubted it had helped. As soon as it was far enough ahead, Ryder rose from where he’d been waiting in the shadows and slipped onto the sidewalk behind the Nephilim.
His steps were silent as the deserted streets, the girl’s sounding like a horse’s hooves clapping on cobblestone in comparison. For a moment he felt a pang for the city of his youth where even in the dead of night lantern flames flickered in the doorways of bars and inns, their patrons forever coming and going. The air had been clean then, no smog of car exhaust to foul the place with noxious gas. There were only the scents of countless merchants pedaling on corners, sweating horses pulling carts, and of course the rose-tinged blood of the Nephilim. Ryder was among the few Darklings who still remembered the simpler times in which they had lived and possibly the only one who recalled them with any fondness.
