“Sir, maybe you should go get the headmaster!”
Ignoring her words, the man stepped closer to the young man that was bent over and moaning with pain. “Brent, you can fight this! You must!” The man leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Fight it, Brent!”
“Sir, I really think we should go!” The young woman sidled towards the door, her fingers stretching out across the wall trying to inch their way towards the door.
Turning towards her, he growled, “No! He can do this. We can help him remember who he is!”
“But, sir…” Her words cut short as her eyes widened. She opened her mouth as if to allow something to come out, but nothing came.
Hesitating, he held his breath as he turned towards the young man he so desperately wanted to help. “Brent..” he breathed.
The word floated in the room for a brief moment before the slash took any other words that might have fell from his still parted lips. The only other sound was gurgling that welled in the back of his throat, and then the hungry consumption.
Finally finding her voice, the young lady screamed, turning on her heel. She reached the door, placing her hand on the knob. As she grasped it firmly, it turned in her hand. Stepping back, the door flung open, and several men filled the room. Eyes glinting and flashing silver, they held firm catch poles and sturdy ropes. One of them carried a crossbow, fully loaded.
She stood still, her limbs growing numb as the crossbow held her in its crosshairs. Her throat filled with bile, and she swallowed hard as excess saliva accumulated in her mouth. Struggling to keep the contents of her stomach down, she looked away from the tip of the bow and unfortunately fell upon the grotesque scene. Finally, she could no longer hold the fluids that had threatened to gush.
The men moved towards the scene, and Brent finally stopped engorging on the old man that gave his life to attempt to save his own. Devoid of emotion or rational thought, Brent”s face only showed a wanton desire to feed. These men did not threaten him, but he rather viewed them as his next meal.
The heap of flesh on the floor gurgled as his life ebbed from him with every heartbeat. Carefully, the men moved around the young man and that heap that only moments before had the ability to walk and talk. Brent watched them, a predator looking to find an opening to maximize damage. The large office provided few furnishings, and ample room to move about.
The young woman moved weakly to find her feet, and she managed a muffled, “Bloodlust.”
A well groomed gentleman pulled her to her feet as he motioned for the men to immobilize the feral young man. “Now you need to return to your dorm room. I will call for you later.”
A shiver ran through her already cold body. “But, headmaster…”
“You did not follow protocol. Actions will be taken, Camille.”
With his hand on the small of her back, he could feel the tremors coursing through her. “All in good time. Now, return to your dorm.”
As he shoved her out the door, he closed it firmly behind her. For a moment, she stood still just beyond the closed door, almost afraid to move. From the other side of the door came only slightly muffled sounds of growls and screams. The rips of fabric and flesh, and the intoxicating smell of muddled blood that each now wore.
Inhaling deep, she allowed her senses to absorb the smell of the room beyond the door. Rarely had she been given the opportunity to indulge in such activities, and she could not resist hesitating a moment longer. However, the rattle of the door knob reminded her of the fear that only moments before coursed through her. With a sigh of regret, she moved back to her room, the thought of Brent’s red eyes and malformed hands and face coming to mind. How did he ever let it get so far? Then she smiled at the lingering aroma that wafted to her nostrils. Oh yeah, that was how!