Raving Moon, Lords of the Night Book One

Chapter 5: A Medusa Morning

I stood on the train platform waiting for a Medusa bound Q train. There were less than two hours until sunrise, and the world was transitioning. The evening crowd, those on the night shift and those prone to party, made their way home as those who worked the early Saturday shifts began their commutes. When I arrived at the train station I was alone, but gradually the platform came to life.Two dozen others waiting for the same train. It would be a few hours still before the beleaguered transit system choked on its patrons.

A young man approached me as the subway announcer claimed the next Q was ten minutes away.

"'Scuse me, brotha. Can I speak wit ya fo a moment?"

I eyed him suspiciously, but gave him a nod.

"I seent ya white hair an' nice jacket ova there," he pointed to the stairs. "Figured you was well to do. I see ya face. I don't want ya money. I was hoping you could point me to a job. I wanna work, but I got sick an' they fired me. I'm lookin' but ain't found nothing yet."

I chuckled, and I saw the hope in his eyes die. He'd probably been laughed away before. I stopped him as he turned to walk away.

"There's a club in Lower Tartarus called The Diner, they're always hiring. Ask them about dayshift cleanup, and make sure you tell them Michele sent you."

"Michelle, like a chick?"

"... yeah."

"Aight, brotha. Thank you. No, I'm serious. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I looked into his eyes, they were full of pride, and behind that sincerity. He wasn't what I was expecting. My attention was drawn past him to the end of the platform where a woman was being harassed by a vagrant. I might have ignored it, but the way the transient moved caught my eye. I patted the young man on the shoulder and moved towards the strange encounter.

The closer I drew to the man the more I became sure of his supernatural nature. Others moved away, sensing the danger even if they didn't know why. His leg dragged at an odd angle, which left his gait staggered, but every other step he glided, floating after the woman who tried her best to stay away.

When I was a few feet away the creature paused in his chase and cringed. He turned a baleful red eye my way. His face was ravaged by silver or acid, giving him a peeling wax look. I paused, thinking him a revenant, but there was intelligence behind that one red pinprick.

"She's mine," he hissed.

"I gave him change," the woman whined. "My mother says never give to panhandlers, I was just trying to do the right thing."

"Ma'am, you should probably listen to your mother." I gestured for her to come to me.

He hissed, and she yelped.

"I said, she's mine." The vagrant's eye lit up and power rolled over us.

He was no blood lord, but he might develop a ligne de sang in the next decade if he didn't force me to take his head. I could hear the train slowing as it drew near the station.

"Miss, everything is going to be okay."

"H... help me," she whimpered.

The helplessness in her voice called to me in a way that made me feel ashamed. I looked away to disguise my own base yearnings, and he took the opening to strike. The vagrant closed the distance between them in a blur of tattered beer-soaked rags. The train rolled in, sparking and screeching.

I allowed myself to move with a vampire's speed, and reached her just as he did. With my hand around his neck I wrenched them apart before he could secure his grip. I pressed my knife to his throat, the silver causing his flesh to rapidly decay. The speed in which the purity of the silver affected him told me two things: he wasn't a revenant, but he was weak of flesh.