A fair has the street closed. I grumble as I cross the street to avoid the people setting up their tables with tacky handcrafted wares. I smell meat sizzling on a grill. My stomach grumbles. I swore off the food the Darkness demands. I approach the man behind a table grilling the meat.
“You cannot stay away for long,” it laughs; I’m afraid it might be right.
“Not quite ready yet,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me.
I shrug and wait. The smell of meat cooking and his scent cause my head to spin. The hunger shakes me. I fight back the urge to rip out his organs and feed on the tenderness of him.
“You must feed,” it hisses. “It’s just a formality of our contract that you think you can over look so easily. You accepted my protection.”
The man turns with a pan full of cooked strips of meat. I watch him put a few strips on a plate, then drizzle some sort of sauce over it.
“Two-fifty,” he says.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a broken G-string. He looks at me coyly. I blush and shove it back into my pocket.
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