Blood Born

Chapter 18

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The mystery of Alan Drake's past had grown.  He pondered the details staring blankly out of the window of his suite at the Malmaison while opening one of the bottles of wine with which Solomon had gifted him.  If he had to determine what it all meant, then he had some work to do.

He sat in the sculptural chair examining his wounded arm and quaffing a glass of Pinot Noir.  The arm was horribly scarred, but was in far better shape than it had been earlier on in the garden shed.  He had returned and immediately drank the last of his blood packs.

It was his belief that the blood would help him heal, and he might have been right:  the arm clearly was improving.  The only problem now was that he was all out of packs.  Nothing left now but to find a live source.  The thought thrilled him, but he put it aside and returned to a consideration of his situation.

He remained in that state for about an hour longer, then rose stiffly and stretched.  He cracked his neck and back, generating great relief, then crossed the room to the large window and leaned up against it.  The lights of the city were lighting up, bit by bit.  He saw the slits of his eyes in the reflection off the glass.

He shook his head in wonder.  A creature of darkness he had become:  pale and gaunt, shunning the sunlight, lusting for blood.  How could he deny it any longer?

The beast had emerged again.

He cut through the night like a surgeon's blade.  Few saw him.  This was by design, of course.  He passed silently along the streets, sliding casually away from the vision of human cattle.  He could feel their eyes on him, but he learned how to make them slip off and see naught but darkness.  

The streets were busy, as always.  Night-clubbers and partygoers and restaurant patrons passed by without so much as a glance his way.  He walked through groups of people and they never noticed him.  He passed cleanly between two lads chatting as they walked, and they never commented.  

Illusion!  

It was all an illusion, as subtle as the sleight of hand that a conjuror employs.  It was all about misdirection and nuance.  He could turn a man's eye with a glance, and woo the woman at his side with a smile:  then he was gone.

He discovered that his gaze held power.  He had read about hypnotism once as a young boy, and attempted to employ it.  Adults had humoured him, suggesting that it was working and in a sense it had worked - their complicity made it work.  It was all about convincing people that they wanted to do what he wanted them to do, while still allowing them the belief that it had been their own choice.  

It was instinctive, and he had no idea how he was doing it.  The only explanation he could provide was to do with subliminal suggestions and their influence upon the subconscious:  perhaps he was issuing cues that produced certain results, and augmenting them with the hypnotic quality of his gaze.  All he could say for sure was that it was working and that there were no mystical powers behind it.  It required proximity, eye contact, and freedom of movement.  The most thrilling results were achieved when he could converse, too - not always an option in a crowded nightclub - but the ultimate influence was when he could touch his subject.  Chemicals had to play a part in it, he guessed.

It happened in a bar called The Posada.  It was a traditional, long, thin pub that had a narrow frontage and a long bar area for service:  basically, a death trap in terms of the fire code.  It was a listed building though, so they were all free to die in it as it stood.  The architecture resulted in an interestingly differentiated environment.  The livelier crowd hung near the door and the more established, deeply ensconced crowd inhabited the inner reaches, by the lavatories.  It was quite Darwinian in a sense.  As someone felt the urge to depart they would gravitate toward the door, but as someone else had been there a while they would gravitate toward the bathrooms.  Thus the crowd was stirred.  He followed the human current to the back, and there he met Sophie standing alone near the corner.