The Vampyre Huntress

THE YEAR 2044 – PARIS, FRANCE  The winter air pushes my long black hair around my face, my mind drifting to the red moon that looms above. It looks oddly familiar as the clouds move away from it like I had seen it in a dream long ago. Menacing laughter and a terrified gasp hit my ears. I look down the alley of the building I am perched on and see the darkened silhouette of a man pressing a woman against the brick wall beside them. She’ll realize what is bound to happen and start pleading soon, although it will not work on this man. This was not how I imagined my night would turn out. I drop down from the rooftop with my crossbow in hand and my knives on my thigh belt. The girl looks no older than I was when I first encountered one of these monsters. She looks over at me and starts begging for me to help, but I’m not here for her. The man takes in her scent and goes for her throat, my knife catching him in the shoulder as he leans down. He hisses and turns toward me, still holding the girl’s wrists in his grey hands. Two hundred years and these things still give me the creeps. His black eyes shine as he takes in my appearance, he seems to know who I am. His grip on the girl loosens and she knees him in the stomach, as he twists back toward her, she breaks free and runs from the alley. My focus is solely on this creature in front of me, although I am a little bored. He screeches and bolts toward the end of the alley that I am not blocking. My second knife, this one dipped in Holy Water, embeds itself into his calf muscle. The man doesn’t make it far and drops behind a trash can, he knows what is coming next.  I slowly walk over to him, whistling and making sure my boot heels tap the asphalt below me. Squatting in front of him and pinning him down with my crossbow to his chest, I push his head back to see his face. He’s not who I am looking for. He hisses again, white fangs showing as he does. He doesn’t seem very old, most likely a newly turned vampyre. I lean down closer to his face, unafraid of his bite. My freshly polished nails are on either side of his chin, holding it in place as I question him. I promise his safety without the intention of going through with it. Maybe I’m just as bad as they are, maybe I’m doing the world a favor. “Where is your name, kid?” I ask without real interest. “Ben! Please, don’t kill me!” This is pathetic. I grab his face harder and redirect his attention. “Ben, where is your boss? Where is Sam Karloff?” The creature’s black eyes go wide, and his skin seems to pale even more. “I – I don’t know! He doesn’t tell us anything! I swear!” He obviously is not going to give up his creator. I smile and thank him for his time, pressing my crossbow to his chest and pulling the trigger. The wooden bolt on the end enters his heart and he screams out as he turns to ash. Standing and turning away before the smell of burnt flesh clings to my leather-clad body, I walk into the shadows and disappear. You see, the man I am looking for used to be special to me. He used to love me. Maybe I should start from the beginning, my name is Aurora Jeann Karloff and this is the story of how I became a Vampyre Huntress.