The Departure

Traffic was light on the early Monday afternoon, enabling Asher to get to the airport about three hours before the flight was set to take off. Upon checking his bags and making his way through the security line, he proceeded to find a relatively quiet sports bar. It was an Irish pub called McBride's. Though usually the type of person to snag a seat at the bar and make small talk with the bartender, Asher retreated into a dark corner table to have some privacy. When the petite waitress came over, seemingly the only one on duty, he asked for a Smithwick's on draught, one of his favorites. Before long, he was three Smithwick's in and feeling loose. Aware of his uncharacteristic tipsiness after just a few beers, Asher realized that it must be because his blood was running low. It was the first time since getting the call from Petra that morning that he had thought about his blood levels and his need to feed. He took a brief look down as his silver Hugo Boss wristwatch and realized that he had less than 36 hours to find his next source of human blood.

Like anyone, Asher became a bit more of a risk taker after a few drinks. To satisfy his hunger, and to make sure he didn't have to deal with it on his arrival to Germany, he came up with an elaborate plan. He paid his bar tab and gave the brunette waitress a half-smile on the way out, sensing that with a little effort he could have her if he wanted. However, he had more important things to tend to and made his way into the moderately busy men's restroom in the middle of the terminal. There were three stalls in there, all being occupied. Seeing this, Asher proceeded to the sink, buying time for the stall next to the wall to open. He blew his nose, washed his face, then nonchalantly entered the end stall following the exit of large bald man. 

Once in the stall, Asher bent down steadily, peering under the stall barrier to ensure his victim was vulnerable. He was so focused that the despicable, nostril burning smell didn't faze him. When he saw a pair of Wrangler jeans wrapped around the man's ankles, he took a deep breath and prepared himself. When Asher heard the rush of water from the flush of the toilet, he pounced. In ninja-like fashion, he slipped under the barrier and attacked. Before the victim knew what hit him, a hand covered his mouth and a set of teeth as sharp as broken glass had sunken into his neck. 

The blood from the helpless victim rushed into Asher von Trapp's veins like a drug. For a few short seconds, he felt alive again, forgetting all the troubles of the day and embracing the ecstasy of his feed. The victim was unable to put up a fight due to the blinding speed of Asher's assault, and he fainted more quickly than usual. This was a good sign that he would not remember a thing when he woke up. Most of the time with a well-executed feed, the victim would be left in a state of amnesia. When Asher reached the count of six, he reluctantly released his bite, ensuring the victim would remain in the realm of the living upon his return to consciousness. 

Asher slithered back under the stall barrier, now slightly drunk and rushing off a successful feed. His bloodthirst was abnormally high, and it took every bit of him to refrain from sucking his victim dry. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself before casually exiting the stall and resuming his role as a normal human being. He splashed some more cold water on his face and watched his bloodshot eyes transition back to their normal shade of white. Asher proceeded to walk out of the bathroom and to his gate, not a single soul suspicious of him, and not a hair out of place.

Asher walked cautiously to his gate, took a seat, and pulled out his Harlan Coben novel. As a literature professor, it pained him to be caught in public reading the type of book that the masses seemed to obsess over. However, he knew that he had to fit in. With his mind rushing, flooded with deep and complicated emotions, he read page after page while retaining none of the words. Before long, Asher's boarding group was called, and he took his window seat near the back of the plane. The events of the day had completely drained him, and soon after takeoff he fell asleep, not awaking until the plane had landed just in time for sunrise in Frankfurt.