Cats. Bloody cats.
Rats were easy. Bats. Birds and spiders and flies. Wolves, he could handle, because they understood to submit to a greater power than their own. Wolves fell in line for him (and, to a certain extent, dogs- as long as they were strays. A dog who already had a master was a different story).
But he could never seem to get a cat to do what he wanted.
This one, he had been feeding for several days, and it had gotten away from him- ungrateful little-! After all the trouble I went through! It shot down an alleyway in the darkness and he followed after it swiftly, in the form of a mist, materializing behind a dumpster. He had it now.
With a swipe of his arm, Renfield had it in his clutches- but to his surprise, so did someone else. He quirked an eyebrow, frowning severely.
“That’s mine,” he said, in a voice that sounded older than his face looked.