Blood on Fire

Chapter3

When we reached the school gates, students were already gathering in groups, chatting and laughing. We made our way to the lockers, side by side, like we had done a hundred times before.

Stephen opened his locker with a small grunt and tossed his bag inside. I did the same, pulling out a few books I needed for the first class.

“So,” he said, closing the locker door with a loud clang, “you’re not coming to Christine’s birthday party?”

“Christine?” I asked, not paying attention.

He gave me a look. “Our classmate. The rich one. Her party’s tonight. Big house. Free food. DJ. Chocolate fountain. The usual spoiled stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No. I’ve got something to do.”

Stephen gave a long sigh, pretending to be heartbroken. “Again? Come on, Selene. You always have something to do. It won’t hurt to have fun once in a while.”

“I’ll pass,” I said, turning toward the hallway.

He walked beside me. “Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, just call me.” He made a call-me gesture with his hand, pressing his thumb and pinky to the side of his face.

I just nodded and walked faster.

Stephen headed to his seat, still mumbling about party food and cake. I sat down in my seat by the window, letting out a deep breath.

The classroom started to fill up. Students chatted and laughed, flipping through their notes or playing on their phones. But I stared outside the window, watching the trees sway with the morning breeze.

Everything looked normal on the outside.

But I wasn’t normal.

Behind my glasses and plain clothes, I was someone else. Someone they didn’t know.

A hunter.

My mission was more important than parties or sleepovers. Somewhere in this university, hidden among the students, teachers, and staff, were the same kind of monsters who destroyed my family. I knew they were here. I could feel it in my bones. I just had to find them.

Stephen turned around in his chair to look at me. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice softer this time.

I nodded again. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He smiled a little. “Nightmare again?”



I didn’t answer. He knew the truth that my parents and brother were murdered. That my past wasn’t something I could forget. He never pushed for more details, and I was grateful for that.

The bell rang, and our teacher walked in. I sat up straight and opened my notebook, trying to focus.

When class ended, I didn’t wait around. I grabbed my things, stood up, and said a quick goodbye to Stephen.

“Bye, Stephen,” I said without looking back.

He started to say something, but I didn’t stay long enough to hear it. I needed to move. I walked fast through the school hallways, blending in with the other students leaving for the day. The sooner I got home, the better.

As soon as I reached my apartment, I locked the door behind me and went straight to the secret room. I pushed the hidden panel behind the painting, revealing the entrance. Inside, the air was cooler, quieter. It always felt like a different world there. I turned on the desk lamp, and the soft light glowed over my notes, weapons, and most importantly, the corkboard. Dozens of hand-drawn faces stared back at me. Lines and strings connected their names, their last known locations, the times I saw them, and how many were left. Some drawings were marked with red circles. A few had big red Xs on them.

My eyes landed on the drawing I made last night: a man in his fifties. Balding. Wears a janitor uniform. Works at Mercy Hill Hospital. Always smiling, but the eyes don’t match the smile.

He was tonight’s target.

I sat down in the chair and stared at the drawing. How did I find out about him? That was the strange part.

A few months ago, I got a letter. No return address, no name, just a plain envelope left in my mailbox. Inside was a list of names, places, and short descriptions. Most of them were people who lived normal lives. At least on the surface.

The message said only one thing:

"They walk among you. Clean the blood they spill."

At first, I didn’t believe it. I ignored the letter. Thought maybe it was some weird prank. But something in me couldn’t let it go.

So, I checked one of the names. Watched them for days. At night, they’d disappear. Show up in alleys. People around them would go missing. I followed another. Same thing.

That’s when I realized… the letter wasn’t a joke.

Whoever sent it knew the truth, maybe even more than I did. I tried to trace it back, but the address was hidden behind layers of fake servers and encryption. Someone was good at covering their tracks. Good. No name. No address. Nothing. Not even a clue if it was a man or a woman. Still, the list they sent me has never been wrong. And now, I was down to the next one: The janitor at Mercy Hill.

He worked the night shift. Always arrived before sunset. Left just before sunrise. I’d seen him once. And I knew those eyes, red under the fluorescent light. Hungry, even when he smiled.

I leaned back and took a breath. I could feel my pulse rising.

I stood up, walked to the weapons wall, and grabbed my black jacket with the hood. Then I reached for my crossbow. Lightweight. Silent. Reliable. I checked the bolts, silver-tipped, carved with runes I etched myself. I also took a small dagger, just in case things got close. One wooden stake. And a small flashlight with UV light. Before leaving, I stared at the corkboard one more time.

The janitor’s face.

Tonight.

By 7:45 p.m., I was already on the move. I took the long way to the hospital, avoiding cameras, busy streets, and public transport. I knew better than to leave a trail. If someone ever started connecting the dots, I needed to make sure they never led me back to Selene Vale, the quiet university student.

The hospital stood tall and gray under the cloudy sky. Lights shone through the windows, and people moved in and out, nurses changing shifts, visitors leaving. But I wasn’t going through the front. I walked around to the back. The loading area. Staff entrance. Quieter. Less watched. I hid behind a dumpster and waited.

At exactly 8:12 p.m., the janitor came out. Just like the schedule I had written down. He lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. He looked relaxed. Normal.

But I knew what he really was.