Crepsley kills wildcat

The wildcat’s sense of danger kicked in again, and it whirled. But it had
reacted too late. The figure leapt and tackled the cat, grabbing it by the neck
and twisting its head. As the doomed creature yelped and thrashed, its
attacker pinned its neck with a knee, then jammed two hands into the
beast’s mouth. The wildcat tried to chew the fingers, but it was in a hopeless
situation. It resisted for a few seconds. Then its jaw and snout were torn
apart, and it was all over.

Larten Crepsley knelt beside his kill and wiped his hands clean on the
grass. He regarded the wildcat with grim satisfaction. Vampires could not
drink the blood of cats, but once fully bled and cooked, the carcass would
provide a fine meal. Larten might struggle with the tough meat, but Seba’s
sharp teeth would tear through it easily.

Knocking the rat away, Larten hoisted the wildcat onto his shoulder. It
was heavy, but he walked without a stagger, whistling as he made his way
back to the ruined castle where his master was sleeping.

It had been nearly five years since Larten first spotted Seba on the wall
of the crypt. Larten had grown by several inches, and although he hadn’t
filled out much, he was muscular beneath his dull brown shirt. Most youths
his age would have struggled with the wildcat, but Larten had carried
heavier loads in his time, always without complaint.

***

Larten had relished the last five years, even the cold, wet nights when
he’d had to bite into the horrible flesh of a live rat. He’d never once
regretted his decision to become Seba’s assistant. This was a hard life, but it
was all he craved. He was still human, and many of the vampire ways were
a mystery to him, but there was no question in his mind that this was his
fate.

***

The Saga of Larten Crepsley: Birth of a Killer, Chapter 8