A human girl has been killing vampires for as long as she can remember, hoping to fill the emptiness in her stomach, she does it for revenge- thinking it's what her purpose is, hoping that may be the case; it's all she's good at. That changes, though, when she meets Klaus, the vampire with the wicked eyes, twisted smile and inane speech. Klaus can see it though, what she is meant to do- and it pleases him. What she was meant to do is something far worse than she imagined, she just doesn't know if she should, it's too dangerous: crazy. But there is an undeniable pull between them, the two lonely souls.
"What's the matter, Smith?" The almost retired police officer asked the new kid, his gruff face sunken in with age and an ancient wariness. Every police officer has been wearing the same look as of late, like a new hat, wary and looking at every darkened corner. Homicides have been coming in like clockwork, one or more each night now.
Kids and their killing.
"Sir, I think this may be the same case." The young boy mutters from beneath his hand, the smell was awful and sour, he has smelled corpses before of course- but it was nothing like this. He was feet from the dead man, in the safe street and away from the alley. There was the same penny, metallic smell that stuck to the roof of his mouth, but there was something… something different. "Stake in the heart, eyes open, vinegar drenched on the body and-"
"I know, but we better keep our business to ourselves." People were crowding around by now, he needn't a civilian cause unnecessary panic. Mat tried to think of something unusual he found in the dead body. The body was pale, though it was difficult for Officer George Smith and Lieutenant Mat Mathews to tell if it was his race, for it was covered with its strange color of grayish white skin. "Defininately, the same case for sure." Mathews agreed, stepping into the alley and motioning for Smith to follow. He did so, albeit reluctantly and anxiously, his murky green eyes kept looking at the brick walls on either side of the small path, his lanky figure could barely have any comfortable space to clumsily step.
At the end of the tunnel, the partners looked at the corpse once more, the man's body was hidden in thick sweaters and hefty jeans, his eyes were open and unstaring at the minimal stars above. "It's Honey, definitely." Lieutenant Mathews informed seriously.
Smith felt a shiver walk down his spine leisurely, who was that? Smith laughed at the name though, unfamiliar to the local legend. "Who is that? What's with the endearment?"
Mathews crouched next to the body and tapped the man's chest with a crooked finger. "This." He motioned. "The murderer stabs her victims with a wooden stake, drenches them in vinegar, and writes 'honey is sweeter' in black sharpie across their foreheads." Could he sound anymore foreboding? "She's a local serial killer. Not really all that local, but she was born here. Honey is the most feared of our states most wanted, maybe even in the states around us. Never once spotted, never had any hints to her whereabouts either. She just kills them, too."
Smith scratched his head, but didn't express his feelings; he should respect local legends, no matter how silly they seemed to be. George decided to humor the old man. "Okay, but why?"
"It's a saying. Honey can catch more flies than vinegar can, so it means you can't have any friends, girlfriends, boyfriends.. or anything with a rotten attitude, so you should be kinder. I guess, from what I gathered anyhow."
"But what's with the stake?" George asked, crouching next to Mathews, who was looking at the man with a sad gaze. "We got ourselves a vampire?" He joked.
"I don't appreciate you kidding around, how many people must die at the hands of Honey?" He looked at the sky and sighed. He didn't want to explain anything to some small minded city slicker. They come with their flashy clothes and shiny cars and judge whatever walks. But, he was his partner.. and he knew from experience that partners are for the better. "I don't know, but each murder it's the same thing. That's why her name is Honey."
"Is it a gang thing? Gang rivalry?" Smith mused, tapping his long finger against his hooked chin.
The older officer shook his head with a small smile. "Nope, the only ones 'round here are with some young kids, harmless. Their names are The Rat Packs, Sluggerz, and Swagger Point."
Smith laughed loudly, but contained himself when he realized he laughed in a place where Death walked. "How do you know it's a girl?"
"Someone saw her kill a teenager two months back; she had long hair and a stake. His name was Martin Cave, he was walking to the store for his mom when he heard laughing. It was late so he looked- and found some girl sitting on a dead man, and writing on his head."
"That must've been awkward." Smith joked. Mathews looked at him, unimpressed. "Sorry. How bad is he?"
"What?" He asked, confused.
"The witness, surely he had a few concussions or something?"
"That's the thing." Mat shook his head incredulously. "Not a scratch, she talked. She talked to him."
"Did he get a good look at her?"
"No," Mathews hand grabbed the stake and ripped it out, releasing a grunt when it took much more force than he thought. "But she said 'I don't wanna do this, you know. I wanna get out. Help me.' The poor boy said she didn't look scared, though. Which is odd, since people who beg for help.. tend to be scared and desperate, not calm."
Smith scratched his head, again, as if to welcome any thoughts that were floating about. But he had nothing. "Hitman? Oops. Hitwoman I mean."
"I don't know, maybe. But the victims, they didn't have any reason to be a target."
Smith looked at his new partner, his face serious and apprehensive. "The boss might know why, if there is one."
Matt, however, was stuck in his own thoughts. Most of which were annoyed and sympathetic for the poor man and the horrors he must have faced in his last few moments, but another part of his brain was wondering.. wondering what kind of horrible person could do such a thing.
But they didn't realize that the person was the good guy, that she wasn't some monster, the only monster in this equation was the one they were feeling bad for.
That was her life. Getting called a murderer behind her back, feeling like her life was in danger. Wishing she could be seen as a nice person.
Seen as a hero.
