Allyn and Ransom – 4

 

 

Allyn, feeling a bit at loose ends at the moment—which seemed to happen too often these days—went into the library to find something to read. He took the book out to the patio beside the pool, dropping down onto one of the chaise lounges. He tried to get into the story, but his mind kept wandering back to the man in black.

 

He's pure evil, so why am I finding him so fascinating? And in less than a half hour's time. How do I find him again? And do I want to? He tapped his lip pensively. I'd be more than willing to bet he wasn't an invited guest, not from the way he was dressed and how quickly he came and went. Still… If I'm wrong, he might have been on the guest list. Of course, matching a name on it to him would be well-nigh impossible.

 

Allyn returned to his reading, and this time he managed to concentrate long enough to decide the book wasn't really his cup of tea after all. Going back to the library, he replaced it on the shelf. Then, he went upstairs to dress for what he planned to do next.

* * * *

Grigore watched in dry amusement as the young man tried to flee to safety. Not that it would happen. Grigore had no intention of letting him escape. Besides which, there was no place for him to go on the huge estate, bounded as it was by a brick wall half again as tall as the ten foot Thuja cypresses that lined it. No place but back to the manor house.

 

And that will only give him false hope that he might be able to escape again when he regains his strength.  

 

Slowly, unrelenting, Grigore stalked his prey. He could smell the lad's fear, taste it on the tip of his tongue. Hear it in the panting breaths, even though Grigore was halfway across the densely forested area from his terrified victim.

 

Why do I bother to choose such weaklings? Surely there is someone out there truly worthy of the challenge I set.

 

So far, Grigore hadn't found such a person—male or female. They let their fear of what he was overcome their ability to think. To reason. To fight back.

 

"What has happened to this generation?" he muttered. "Have they no courage? No desire to test the limits of their endurance?"

 

He neared the young man. The sound of his panicked scrambling, as he searched for somewhere to hide, was music to Grigore's ears.

 

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Grigore said mockingly, reaching down to pluck the lad from the thick bushes that he thought would give him cover—and safety.

 

"Please, please…"

 

The whining, terrified words ended in a scream as Grigore ripped open the throat of his victim and drank deeply, draining him until he was nothing more than a desiccated corpse.