David unlocked his apartment door. Two heavy, taped foam coolers sat in the hallway. He dragged them inside, grabbed a box cutter, and sliced the tape.
Inside, packed in dry ice and perforated plastic containers, were the deliveries. Three vampire bats clustered together in a wire cage. A sealed tub of medicinal leeches. Two Mexican axolotls swimming sluggishly in a bag of water. A tiny glass vial containing freshwater hydras.
He carried them to the kitchen counter and stood before the Pithos. He dumped the tub of leeches in first. Then the water with the axolotls and the hydras. Finally, he pulled on a pair of thick leather gloves, grabbed the bats, and dropped them into the clay container.
They went in silently. Just a soft, wet hiss.
Ten minutes later, the surface settled. David dipped a thick glass syringe into the bowl and pulled the plunger. The liquid that filled the tube was a heavy crimson — it looked boiling hot, though the glass felt cold in his hand. He transferred the liquid into a glass vial, pressed a cork stopper into the neck, and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket.
——
The mugger's apartment was on the second floor of a condemned building off 8th Street. Rain leaked through the ceiling, dripping steadily into a rusted bucket.
The kid sat on a bare mattress, smoothing out the two crisp hundred-dollar bills. He was still shaking a little, but a relieved grin was spreading across his face.
A heavy thump sounded from the fire escape.
The kid looked up. A massive black bird squeezed through the broken windowpane and landed on the radiator. It didn't look like a pigeon or a crow. It just stared at him with three glowing red eyes.
The kid froze. The bills slipped from his fingers.
The apartment door clicked and swung open.
David stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and locked the deadbolt.
"You," the kid breathed, scrambling backward against the peeling wallpaper. He pulled the switchblade from his pocket, his hand trembling violently. "How the fuck did you find me?"
David didn't answer. He walked forward, stepping over a pile of trash. He pulled the vial from his coat.
"Hold him," David said.
Hugo launched from the radiator. The raven's talons slammed into the kid's shoulders, pinning him to the mattress with unnatural force. The kid screamed, dropping the knife as the bird's beak snapped inches from his face.
David calmly knelt beside the struggling boy. He grabbed the kid's jaw with his free hand, forcing his mouth open. He brought the vial close and worked the cork free with his thumb.
Panicking, the kid thrashed wildly. He kicked out with both feet. His heavy boot caught David's wrist.
Crack.
The vial slipped. It hit the concrete floor and shattered. The thick crimson liquid splattered across the dirty linoleum, soaking instantly into a discarded piece of carpet.
The room went completely still. Even Hugo stopped moving, though his talons remained dug deep into the boy's collarbones.
The kid gasped for air, crying, thinking he had just fought off a poisoning.
David stared at the red stain on the floor. He slowly wiped a drop of the liquid off his knuckles. He looked at the shattered glass, then up at the kid. He didn't look angry. He just looked tired.
"Do you have any idea how much those axolotls cost?" David asked quietly. He stood up and brushed off his knees.
"Please, man, take the money back!" the kid sobbed. "Just take it!"
David turned toward the door. "You lost your value as a subject," he said. "Hugo. Take his eyes. Then clean up."
David stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut. The kid's scream was cut short by a wet, tearing sound. David walked down the stairs, already calculating the cost of a replacement batch.
——
Inside the apartment, the only sound was the steady drip of rain into the bucket, and the soft rustle of feathers as Hugo finished his meal. Eventually, the raven squeezed back out the broken window, taking flight into the night.
Silence settled over the room. The kid's body lay still on the mattress.
Near the door, the crimson stain had soaked deep into the fibers of the rug.
From a crack beneath the baseboard, a large cockroach scurried out. Its antennae twitched as it approached the puddle. It stopped at the edge and lowered its mandibles to the red liquid.
A moment later, a gray rat squeezed out from a hole in the plaster. It pushed the roach aside, sniffing the blood-like substance. It began to lap it up greedily.
For a minute, nothing happened.
Then, the rat stopped. It let out a high, sharp squeak and collapsed onto its side, its body seizing.