The nights were getting down into the 40’s. Not terribly cold but just uncomfortable enough that there weren’t as many people on the streets as there were during the Christmas season. One lone old lady with a cane walked down the street. As she walked under a dim streetlight anyone around could see she had a ragged dark long coat on and a hand knitted cap with a yarn flower on it and a woolen scarf with holes. Her hands were covered in fingerless gloves. In one arthritic looking hand was an old wooden cane, in the other was a dirty tote bag with what looked like rags and old food sticking out of it. The hand with the cane also had a shiny patent leather handbag hanging off the frail wrist. The old woman stuck close to the buildings, possibly in case she needed extra support. She shuffled along not bothering to even look down the alleys as she passed them.
The old woman was not entirely alone on this street. A man watched her from the darkened alleys. He was making sure she was alone. And he was deciding what he wanted to do to her. His woman had been bitching that he never got her anything. This old woman had a nice pocketbook and he thought he saw a ring on her hand. These would be enough to appease his woman and maybe even get him a little something- something from her. He grinned showing yellowed teeth with a few empty spaces. He ran ahead a few alleys and checked to make sure no one would see.
When the old lady reached his alley she felt a bruising grip on her arm. His jagged fingernails cut into her skin through her ragged jacket. A dirty hand reached around her and covered her mouth before she could scream. He pulled her off balanced and dragged her into the alley. “Don’t make a sound and I won’t kill you,” he growled at the old woman. “You understand?” The old woman nodded. He let go of her mouth. “Good, now you will give me your pocketbook and your ring,” He demanded still holding her arm partially to keep her on her feet and partially to show he was in control.
The old woman shook her head no. The man raised his free hand and smacked her had across the face. This knocked off the scarf from the old woman. But she wasn’t an old woman. She brought a knee up and got the man in the groin. She then grabbed him and pushed him against the wall. She sunk her teeth into his dirty disgusting neck and drank until she was full and then some. Scum like this deserved to die but it wasn’t her place to kill him. Beast was very happy and receded to a dark corner to rejoice in the blood feast. Emma left the man with a little blood, enough to sustain his pitiful life. She hit him over the head with a paint can left out in the dumpster and released some of his blood so it could pool around the wound. He wouldn’t remember much when he woke up due to the concussion and blood loss.
Emma rewrapped her scarf gathered her cane and bags and resumed her trip down the street. Francesco was correct, it was all about the image and impressions you wanted to make. Some saw her as a victim, others as just old, maybe others as a homeless lady, whatever they saw it certainly wasn’t a healthy vampire on the prowl. Emma gave her best impression of an old lady cackle and hummed an old song softly to herself.
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