Chapter Twelve

Gabriel wiped the blood from his lips, watching from atop the bank building as the officer drove away. He’d heard everything the cop and the tow truck driver had said. The officer was afraid. He’d found the man’s boot and a drop of blood. Not enough to warrant outright suspicion of foul play, but it had been a bit sloppy on Gabriel’s part. He’d have to be a bit more careful going forward. He didn’t need the police looking for him before they’d even reached the midpoint of the season. That would be a shame.

He’d dispose of the husk of the young man in the dank basement with the others. He thought of Mother’s words from earlier: “Your scent is ripe with it. Oh, what would your father say?”

He should go home; there would be plenty of time to feed again tomorrow. A slight tremor moved through his hands. He clenched them and closed his eyes. The hunger only seemed to be growing. Even with the fresh blood flowing through him, tingling every fibre of his being, he wanted…more.

He bit the corner of his mouth until it bled.

He exhaled, feeling the monster within loosen its grip ever so slightly, just enough to allow his mind to clear.

Yes, tomorrow would be fine.

* * *

He returned home shortly after two o’clock. He landed in the yard and walked up the steps. Mother was wrapped in a blanket on the front porch waiting. He wanted to tell her not to worry, but she refused to look at him. It’d been foolish of him to think she would not find out. She probably knew every time he’d been out.

A voice in his head reminded him that she, like Father, had a different idea of what constituted a good life. A safe life. Let her be angry. Let that anger fill her. Then, maybe she would understand.

He left her alone and went inside.

The light was on in his sister’s room. The music playing from her record player within cut suddenly as he stepped to the door. The light inside went out.

Unappreciative. Both of them. If they would just open their eyes, they would see how much better life could be.

He returned to his room and picked up a book he’d been reading on Maine’s history. After trying to get into it for several pages, he set the book aside. His mind was too distracted. Daylight was still more than two hours away.

He paced back and forth for ten minutes before heading back out. A stroll before bed, nothing more.

When he happened upon the paperboy four blocks away, he couldn’t resist.