It seems that I am a prompt-stealer...

Some time ago, following a link by ysabetwordsmith I found myself reading a call for prompts by kajones_writing, I left one of mine but was really intrigued by the one Elizabeth had left, about a vampire who could speak only a specific dialect of Chinese.

That prompt ended up sparking a few ideas of my own (of course without any of the specifics that were in it about kajones_writing 's  setting), and here is the result, in a world of my own.

This was the place, the alley behind the old cinema, Gloria could feel the call that had drawn her: a buzz in her ears just below hearing range, a suggestion, a sudden idea that it may be worth checking the alley for that bracelet she had lost yesterday. Except she never wore bracelets.

The link to her domina gave Gloria some protection, her turning allowed her to recognize the suggestion for what it was: the lure of one of her kind looking for prey. She tensed, this was her domina’s territory, and Violante had clout enough among the Kin of Venice that none of the locals would dare to intrude in her preserve, she had no guests at the moment either, so this new one must be a  poacher.

A poacher meant trouble.

The Kin had their rules, they were a necessity for survival. If people kept disappearing and turning up in the canals drained of blood the Herd was bound to notice, no matter the level of denial most had for the strangeness that lived under their noses. A stampede could easily turn into a mass-hunting, it must be prevented at all costs.

Gloria approached the mouth of the alley, melding with the shadows while she concentrated, freshly turned as she was, extending her senses still took effort. No breathing, no heart-beat, utter stillness, just the mind-lure; it was stronger, now an Elder would have been able to pick it up at a distance without even trying. The poacher must be really hungry, hungry enough that it would not mind the risk of broadcasting its presence. Hungry enough to drain a fledging of the Kin? The thought was almost enough to make Gloria shudder, she wasn’t about to go in  blind, she needed a lure of her own.

As always they answered her call: the ubiquitous pigeons of Venice: pests, nuisances, the city council had tried to deal with them multiple times with no success at all… but they had their uses.

A small flock landed just outside the alley and started pecking as if it were full day and not the deep of the night.

Walking stomachs and no brains

To the rustle and the cooing Gloria added a call of her own:  Food, come out, there is food here. Blood, warm blood. Nourishing, rich, yours for the taking… Blood.

Something pounced out, the birds took wings, one of their numbers missing, neck torn before it could feel it, body squeezed to pulp by thin, shaking hands, the last drops of blood oozing into a mouth stretched wide, fangs in full view. Gloria moved before thinking, tackling the interloper, keeping it prone on the cobblestones, ready to break its neck.

The poacher slumped.

 Did you really think I’d fall for it?  Gloria kept her hold on her prey, the physical contact allowing her to feel  the intruder: weak with hunger; female; so freshly turned that she almost reeked of Herd.

What’s happening here?

She forced the woman upright, held her against the wall.

“ Who are you?”

The only answer was a blank stare from dark, almond-shaped eyes.

“ Do you understand me?”

Silence.

Maybe English would work, everybody spoke English nowadays.

“What is your name?”

Nothing, but the same flat,  resigned stare.

Gloria fished  her cellphone out of a pocket, speed-dialing Violante one-handed, her domina answered on the second ring.

“What is it, filia ?”

“ I caught a poacher, Domina. she's just turned, no more than one week”

“ There should be no fledglings so young around, what does she say? Who turned her?”

“ She doesn’t say anything, I think she doesn’t speak Italian. She looks Chinese to me.”

“ Bring her in”.

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“You were right” said Violante, coming in from what her familia called ‘the guestroom’, “She is Chinese”.

“ Then you were able to speak with her?”

The elder  woman shook her head: “Looks like the wretch never went to school and learned a proper language, she bleats a dialect I don’t understand. I’ll have to arrange an appointment with Luigi Wang, if he doesn’t understand her either he might know someone who does”.

The domina was pacing, a sure sign of trouble.

“We must get to the bottom of this, turning without permission is a crime, turning somebody who cannot speak, or write” she added with a sneer “and abandon the fledging half-crazed with hunger, ready to kill at random, is a provocation and an act of war from someone who tried to cover his tracks. The Serenissimo must be informed immediately”.

Gloria nodded, only by sheer luck they had avoided a disaster.

“ She is secured in the guest room but she needs food, will you take care of it while I’m at the palace, dear? She is likely to be a messy feeder, but my herd needs culling anyway and I know I can trust you to do things as I like them.”

“ Yes, Domina”.

Gloria turned and went, some chores were better done and forgotten. She hated mopping floors.