Vampires

     Jeremiah walked past a group of three boys. The oldest wasn’t more than eight, the other two were seven and six. Street kids, their parents worked, if they even knew both their parents. It reminded him of long ago.
     At his first glance upon these children he thought he saw, just for a second. Three other young boys dressed in dapper clothes, the oldest training to be a gangster. A young Leader in training, you could tell by his cap. Mason Smith, blonde with freckles, the brains. The two underlings, his goons. Joseph Arcul, Brown hair and scrappy, the right hand. The youngest was Anthony “Muscle” Patrick, Irish and angry. In the downtown Chicago slums during prohibition. Jeremiah’s recollection abruptly halted.
     He felt the oldest boy’s intention of hitting him. He heard the boys arm move, and the pebble hit him square in the back.
     “If you hit me again, I’ll make it so you never hit any one ever.” Jeremiah warned. Then felt the boy rise to the challenge and toss another pebble.
     Before the child could lower his arm. His face went from laughing with wicked amusement, to sheer terror.
     Jeremiah had the child by the throat and held him up against the building’s dirty brick wall.
     The boy chocked and thrashed.
     Jeremiah watched with mild interest as the boys life force began to fade. Slowly the boy began to grow still. Jeremiah tossed him to the ground, where his companions remained frozen in fear.
     The boy grasped his throat and began to gasp for air. He turned on his knee and began to crawl away while holding his crushed throat.
     “Call the cops!” a man called out from the end of the alley.
     “If I’m going to jail then I’m going to have to kill him. I can’t be going to jail for no reason.” Jeremiah grabbed the boys free arm and pulled him back. He leaned over the boy, “Are you ever going to hit anyone again?” He jerked the boys arm quickly.
     “NO!” the boy managed to get out between the sobs and gasps.
     “You be sure that you don’t. Because if they call the cops and I go to jail. I’m going to learn all kinds of new tricks. And when I get out I will hunt you down like an animal, I will be watching you. So if you ever hit somebody, I can use all I learned on you.” Jeremiah tossed the boy’s arm away from him.
     “Don’t call the cops.” A man grabbed a woman reaching for her phone. “I have a feeling things will get a lot worse if we do.”
     Jeremiah looked back at the small crown of three adults that had gathered at the end of the alleyway.