The Fellowship of Hell (part 2)

 Ephram blindly ran into the night, desperately pushing the feeling of hunger to the edges of his consciousness. "Oh God, please protect the innocent, and don't let me hurt anyone" the last dregs of his sanity prayed.

A gunshot grabbed the attention of those last dregs of his sanity. Those last dregs had an idea, a hope. He ran toward the gunshot. Ephram turned into the alley, and saw a man in a hoodie, wearing a mask and pointing a gun at someone. He smelled the blood, and the victim wasn't moving. The man in the hoodie ran toward the downed victim and ransacked his pockets, removing his wallet, pulling out the cash and cards. "That doesn't belong to you." Ephram said, plainly. 

"It does now." the man said, turning and pointing the gun at Ephram.

Ephram slowly closed on the man; his gun shaking, panicked. "Imma get your money too, asshole" and the man in the hoodie pulled the trigger. 

Ephram had been shot before, and it didn't do much to an undead body like his.

"My turn." he said, coldly. 

Ephram lunged, pulling on the last dregs of his power. Moving at an inhuman pace, he tackled the man in the hoodie, and bit into his jugular and fed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body writhing with the pleasure of feeding for the first time in almost 100 years. After draining the body, he stomped on the dead man's neck, separating it from the his body. He did not need someone like this turning undead. He felt an itching in his undead body, and remembered the gunshot.  He put his fingers into the gunshot and pulled the bullet out.  It fell to the ground with a "tink" as he dropped it.  He watched as the hole slowly closed up.

Ephram ran back into the safety of the night. He'd have more to confess tomorrow.