Paloma
Salt Lake City, Utah
I park my Cadillac in my driveway, exhausted from my latest hunt in Oregon. I open the car door and step out, my bloodstained boots clack against the concrete. I guess I have to get rid of these boots, which is kind of depressing; they're my favorite pair.
Walking through the front door, I pull my hair out of its loose ponytail, the red waves fluttering over my shoulders. I pull my boots off and throw them in the trash. I yawn as I take my jacket and my bloodstained t-shirt off. I guess I have to get rid of the shirt, too.
After throwing away the shirt, I run up the stairs and into my bedroom. I turn on the shower and get undressed. Stepping into the shower, I flinch at the sudden blast of hot water. I lean my head against the wall, letting the hot water ease my aching muscles.
The hunt I just returned from was the most exhausting hunt I've ever experienced; a huge vampire nest, sixteen at the most, were killing off everyone in Astoria. Being the only one not occupied, I had to take the vampire nest on by my lonesome.
It was a successful hunt; it didn't take long to take them down. It resulted in a few minor injuries and my favorite boots and shirt being stained, but it was worth it.
I lift my head off the wall and turned around, letting the hot water hit my face. I grab the soap and start washing the dried blood off my body. The hardest part is the fingernails: I just can't get the blood out from underneath.
After getting most of the blood off, I turn off the shower and dry off. I change into pajamas and step out of the bathroom. I walk into my room and flop on the bed. Snuggling into my pillows, I close my eyes and drift off into a peaceful sleep. But of course, the peaceful sleep doesn't last long.
The ringing of the phone echoes throughout the quiet house. I groan and sit up, searching blindly through the dark for the phone. Finally finding it, I hold it up to my ear and speak.
"Who are you and why are you calling me in the middle of the fucking night?" I snap.
"Woah, calm down Paloma." The male voice replies. Randall.
"Randall, what the eff do you want? I just got back from a job in Oregon and I need my sleep."
"I was going to tell you about another job, but I guess you don't want to hear it." He says. Randall is the person I ask about jobs. If you need a job, he always has one ready for you.
"Yeah I do, but at," I look over at the clock. "2:35 in the morning? Really? Don't you sleep or something?"
"I'm nocturnal." Even though I couldn't see him, I was 90 percent sure that he was smiling. "Anyway, should I explain the job?"
I ponder this for a moment. "Eh, why not? I'm already awake and I'm probably not going to sleep anytime soon."
I hear him laugh on the other line. "There has been a string of murders in Bozeman, Montana," Randall begins. "They seem to have no connections, but we can never be too sure."
"So you're saying you want me to check it out?" I ask while yawning.
"That's correct." I sigh and lean my head back.
"Alright, I'll do it."
"Great. I'll call you with more information in the morning." He rustles papers on the other line.
"No need. I'm going to get ready and head out now. Go ahead and give me more info." I put Randall on speaker and put on actual clothes as he explains what he knows.
I grab my duffel bag out of my closet and place it on my bed. I reach down underneath my bed and pull out a giant briefcase. I open it and take out my hunting gear; salt, lighters, pistol, shotgun, knives, etc.
I say goodbye to Randall and hang up the phone. Putting on a pair of combat boots, I double check my gear. I zip up my duffel bag and run down the stairs and out the door, not caring to lock the door. I slide into the Cadillac and put my bag in the passenger seat. I start the car and drive off.
"6 hours away, huh?" I say to myself. "Not too bad…"
I drive away from Salt Lake City and head to what awaits me in Montana.
