“Coins for a beggar, sir? Any coins to spare for a man out of home?”
The old man at the roadside, so fast asleep he could be taken for dead, sprang to life as the young man in the hoodie stepped under the bridge. His hands were tucked into his pockets, where something clinked, and a little boy was scurrying along at his heels. Jackpot. He’s got coins to hand anyway, and nobody wants to look bad in front of their kid. “Spare coins, sir?” he called again.
“Cap,” the little boy said, stopping and staring at the old man. “He’s…”
“Right.” The man, ‘Cap’, pulled his gloved left hand out of his pocket and reached it towards the old beggar, fist clenched. This is too easy. There’s nobody around for miles. That little boy looks so succulent…
Before Cap could open his fist to hand over the coins, the old beggar grabbed his wrist, pulled back the sleeve, and bit.
Even before the foul taste spread over his tongue, he could tell that something was wrong.
There were plenty of humans in the world with dark skin, but none as dark as this. The arm under his fangs was black as pitch, black as coal, and just as tough and dry. Despite that, the man’s face was mild brown, practically white next to this black, dead arm…
The old bloodsucker spat the arm out, but the foul taste had spread down his throat. He could taste it all through his body. He felt dry, rotted…
“What a piece of shit,” Cap said scornfully, watching the creature writhe on the ground. “He prefers to drink blood through the wrist arteries, so he feeds on kindhearted people with coins for a beggar. Bit off more than you could chew here, didn’t you?”
“Cap, is your arm okay?” the little boy said, peering with worry at the bite in Cap’s left wrist.
“Of course it’s not,” Cap said, pulling his sleeve back down and stuffing his arm into his pocket to hide it. “It’s not like a little bite can make a curse any worse. Hear that, bloodsucker?” He glared down at the creature, which appeared to be imploding. They’d seen this in demons that had tried to devour Cap’s blood before. It was turning to dust from the inside out. “You just drank a black curse. Hope it tastes terrible.” He turned and continued walking along the underpass. “Are you coming, pup?”
“Yeah…” Alf watched the demon crumble entirely into dust, and then ran off after Cap. “Cap? If you didn’t have a cursed limb, what would you do?”
“I’ve got one,” Cap said, twitching his left shoulder. “I deal with it.”
“Yeah, but if you didn’t,” the boy persisted.
“Well… it’d be harder, but I’d probably cut off its head,” Cap said, glancing back at the pile of dust that had killed at least eighteen people in the previous year alone. “And then set it on fire. Or just set it on fire.”
“Would that kill it?” Alf wanted to know.
“There’s not much that doesn’t kill, pup.”
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A while later, two people could be seen standing by the side of the road, thumbs out as they watched the cars go by. The man looked to be in his late twenties, with mild brown skin and black hair that didn’t quite hide a scar on his forehead. The little boy next to him had to be his son, no older than seven with identical colouring. Both of them were wearing shabby brown trousers and worn black jackets. It was an elderly couple that took pity on them and pulled over, offering them a lift. They were in a rusty old pickup that barely had room for them, but there was space in the back aside from a couple of old tables.
“Where are you headed?” the young man asked.
“We’re going down to Kalimpong,” the old man behind the wheel replied. “How about you?”
“Kalimpong will do,” the young man said, lifting the boy one-handedly into the back of the pickup and then climbing in himself. “We can get a taxi to where we need to go from there. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it, dear, we just hate to see you and your little boy out there when it’s getting late,” the old lady insisted as the car started up again.
“You can call me Mr Tenzin, and this is my wife,” the old man said, turning the car back onto the road.
“Call me Captain,” the man said, watching the trees go by, “and this is Alf.”
“So, where are you headed to?” Mrs Tenzin asked conversationally.
“Going to meet a friend of mine,” Captain said shortly. Mrs Tenzin tried asking him a few more questions, but he always answered briefly and then lapsed into a stubborn silence. He didn’t even take his hands out of his pockets. Little Alf leaned out of the side of the pickup, sticking his head out and watching everything go by with wide eyes. He didn’t speak when asked questions, making Mrs Tenzin wonder if he was mute.
They really did look startlingly alike, with similar long features, thick hair and large brown eyes. Mrs Tenzin couldn’t help staring at the eyes every time she glanced back at them to try to ask a question. Their eyes seemed… off, somehow, a little out of proportion. Their eyes seemed just a little too large for their faces. Alf didn’t squint at all in the wind.
All in all, while the pair was perfectly polite—when they got out of the car, the little boy bowed politely even though he didn’t say anything—they were still strange, and the Tenzins were a little relieved to see the back of them when they reached Kalimpong.
