Desperation has a way of kicking a person’s ass into overdrive and dying hasn’t changed that for me. So, I do what any cornered creature would do. I run as fast as I can down the streets once again. Fighting a member of the Hunter Order at my age is like pitting a scrawny fifteen-year-old against a championship prizefighter. Hunters don’t survive to middle age unless they are the most cunning survivors and even more threatening predators. When my father told me tales about a secret group of monster hunters, I thought they were just fairy tales. Now, I’m glad I paid close attention to him when he told those stories. A three-year-old vampire might as well be an infant, especially since I just met my second confirmed vampire just a few days ago. The hunter leaps from the rooftop, hurling a dagger at my feet. I stumble backwards just enough for the dagger to pierce the ground an inch from my foot. Shit, he’s good!
I dash in the opposite direction, pushing every muscle in my legs to its max. Fortunately for me, I’ve always been a fast runner, so I should be able to get away from him. However, the scent of the hunter remains strong behind me, just barely dispersing into the city’s ambient aroma. A crossbow bolt whizzes just past my ear as I turn to face the man. The hunter draws another dagger, twirling the weapon in his hand. In a split second, the hunter darts to me, his dagger gliding through the air with such speed, I’d assume he’s a vampire if I didn’t know any better. I snatch his right arm at the wrist, deflecting his strike and kicking him in his ribcage.
The hunter wheezes as he orients himself around my grasp, almost slicing my fingers off and breaking free from my grip in the same motion. I protract my claws and conjure a sweet, charming aroma that smells like black cherry. My opponent stares at me as his eyes glaze over for brief moment. Yes, it worked. I suppose the best way to fight an opponent really is to not fight them at all. I back away from this hunter just a few paces before a startling scent floods the air. The palpable rage emanating from the hunter hitting my nostrils like cinnamon.
“So, you’re a Hell’s Siren, aren’t you? I should’ve expected nothing more than to encounter another of Arabella’s coven once I returned from retirement,” the hunter scoffs.
He lunges at me once again, hurling a canister down at the ground on his approach. A dense cloud of smoke floods the area, dropping my visibility to mere footsteps ahead of me. Yet, the red wisps retain their shape, allowing me to pierce the veil just enough to block the hunter’s next strike. I counter with a punch across his jaw, delivering my full strength with the blow.
“What the hell is a Hell’s Siren? I’ve never heard of anything by that name in my life!” I snap.
The hunter laughs as he stands before me, his now cracked mask appearing through the smoke. Why is laughing? I conjure the red wisps, drawing a tree branch to me. I clutch the branch with both hands like a sword. Why did it have to be a tree branch? I sweep the branch low, targeting the hunter’s kneecaps. He jumps over the attack, stomping the branch in two. I clench my right hand, throwing a punch at the hunter’s stomach. Yet, he catches my punch halfway, kicking me in my stomach. The strike sends me reeling backwards, but I hook my leg behind his, sweeping the hunter’s left leg out from under him. I slam my fist into his back, punching him into the asphalt. The hunter lets out a groan, giving me a moment to escape. I dart into the alleyways but not before a sharp pain shoots through my thigh. I stumble into the dark, veiling myself in the shadows of night.
After about thirty minutes, I stumble my way to my house. I took so many veering paths that even a were-folk would find it hard to track my whereabouts. I push open the door, collapsing to the floor. My head grows light as blood leaks from my wound. Friedrich steps out of the hallway, gasping as he sees the thin puddle of blood dripping from my wound.
“Let me help you up, Fraulein. We should patch that wound of yours up. What even happened to you while you were out? You’ve been gone for almost an entire day,” the older vampire says.
“Well, I was doing some reconnaissance with one of my contractors, where I learned that a new group of vampires have arrived in Ferran City. Then, I was ambushed by a hunter, who gave me my nice wound here on my thigh. I barely escaped, though I imagine that he’ll be back once he tracks my house down,” I sigh.
“A hunter? What did he look like? How old was he?”
“He was around his late forties to early fifties, so he was quite skilled. The only reason I escaped is because he wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“That wound on your leg says otherwise, madam,” Friedrich scoffs, “Yet, if he was as skilled as you say, then he could have killed you at any point. Why the hell didn’t he kill you?”
Friedrich leads me to the kitchen, sitting me down in one of the wooden chairs. In a brief moment, Friedrich returns with my emergency kit in tow. I pull down my pants to my thigh, a flash of embarrassment coloring my cheeks. He pulls out a needle and thread, suturing my wound from one side to the other until the top side is closed. Friedrich looks up from my wound and sees my flushed face. The older man scoffs, laughing to himself as he ties another thread to the needle.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Fraulein. I have no interest in pursuing you,” Friedrich chuckles.
“I mean, I wasn’t implying that you did. I just haven’t really had anyone staring so hard at my legs in a really long time who wasn’t a creep. However, I don’t appreciate your complete disinterest thank you very much,” I snap.
“Dear, at one point in my life, I would’ve made a move on you. However, I prefer my lovers to be more masculine. There’s a reason my mistress sent me out here. I was a little too friendly with my Lord.”
I’m left stunned as Friedrich cleans the needle. The only thing I can do is lift my leg, and Friedrich stitches my wound together with a few clean motions. I pull up my pants, eyeing the hole where the bullet pierced through my leg. Maybe I could repair this pair once I’ve taken some time to heal a little bit. Fortunately, I should still have some blood in my freezer. A cold pouch lands in my hands as soon as the thought crosses my mind.
“I figured you’d be quite hungry after losing so much blood.”
“Thank you, Friedrich. I truly don’t deserve your services,” I sigh.
Friedrich smiles as he treads back into his room, leaving me with my thoughts. Why did Lord Cremoux have an interest in me anyway? And who’s this Arabella woman? I poke a hole in the blood bag, guzzling it down like a kid slurping up soda. This blood is rich and decadent, a rare find indeed. This donor must be very fit and health conscious. They definitely have the rh null blood type. Out of all the blood I’ve drunk from my donors over the past year or so, this one is by far the most delicious. Maybe if I’m lucky this person will become a repeat donor! Oh shit, I think I missed my donation day…
“Friedrich, are you busy right now?”
“I’m hooking up the new surveillance systems for your house. You left me here with nothing to do, so I built some security cameras and low scale jamming equipment. Can you give me about another hour to finish testing everything?”
A smile creeps across my face as a wave of exhaustion sweeps over me. I place my half-empty blood bag on the table in the special holder I made. It’s like a beer sleeve, except shaped for an iv bag. Unfortunately, this chair is not the most comfortable place to fall asleep, so I hoist myself up, stumbling my way to my bedroom. Somehow, I climb into my bed without sending burning heat up my leg. Losing myself in the softness of my blankets, I drift into a peaceful slumber for the first time in a long while.
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