"Sheriff, sorry to wake you, but we got a call. Dead body, on the road at the edge of the woods at the south of town. Sounds like another nasty one."
"Roger that. On my way. Send Pete down to meet me."
"Yes, Ma'am."
The Sheriff pulled herself out of bed wearily, got dressed and went out to her cruiser. She turned on the sirens and lights and made it to the woods in about four minutes, even without rushing. Sometimes even small towns had their benefits.
She got out of the air-conditioned car and felt sweat break out from every pore. The heat and humidity was like a wall, even at 5 in the morning. She wiped off her forehead wearily and put on her hat. She leaned against the car, waiting for Pete to arrive. He pulled up a few minutes later, turning off his siren but leaving the lights whirling. He got out slowly, sweat soaking through his uniform shirt at the neck and back. A buzzing started in her brain. She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. It never helped, but she always did it anyway.
"Morning, ma'am. Leena said it sounds like a bad one. You been to have a look yet?"
"No. I figured I'd wait for you. Didn't see much point in getting lost."
He nodded. She made a 'go ahead' gesture, shooing him on. They both lifted their torches, and he led them to the edge of the woods, sniffing a little. He always did that, when there was a body. She figured it was some sort of nervous tic. He gestured to the left and they walked on a little before coming across a girl's body.
"Looks to be about 10 or so, wouldn't you say, ma'am?" he asked, dipping his head towards the corpse.
"Yeah," she said, stiffly. "And stop calling me ma'am, will you? It makes me feel like a grandmother."
He shot her legs an appreciative look, but thankfully kept from voicing his thoughts. She was well aware of how her legs looked in the uniform pants. She was also well aware that sweat had soaked almost all the way through her shirt and undershirt. She had foolishly thought, when she moved here, that she'd be able to handle the heat. But it wasn't the heat that got you, it was the humidity.
She looked at the body dispassionately. The neck was ripped open. The flesh was a blue-tinged white, and if she had to guess, she'd say it had been completely drained of blood.
"Vampire," she said, though she didn't need to. Pete nodded.
"The same one as the others, you think?"
He nodded again, chewing thoughtfully on his nicotine gum. He was trying to give up smoking, but this was the fourth day of the gum, and she was pretty sure that she would catch him sneaking a cigarette in the parking lot before breakfast. Just like she had the last three days.
The body was dismembered. Limbs were strewn around with no discernible pattern. The girl's eyes had been removed, probably by hand. She had been eviscerated before she was drained of blood. Whoever had done this – and the other murders - had been frantic. Not like any of the vampires the Sheriff had heard of. They were calm, controlled, and they didn't usually kill. She'd never met one. The buzzing in her head increased to a heavy drone. She turned to her deputy.
"Pete, could you go call the ME and get her down here? And we're gonna need a perimeter to keep people away from this. We don't need any pictures showing up on Facebook or whatever the kids are using these days."
He tipped his hat and bit back the instinctive "Yes, Ma'am," she could see forming on his lips. She lifted an eyebrow. He walked away quickly. Things had not ended well for him the last time that eyebrow went up.
She took off her hat with a sigh and wiped her forehead again. The buzzing in her head muted and she sighed in relief.
"Who did this to you, kid?" she asked, looking at the poor eyeless girl, hands on her hips.
"I might be able to assist you in answering that question, Sheriff."
Her sidearm was out of her holster and in her hand before she could think. One hand holding her torch and supporting the butt of the gun, the other holding the weapon steadily on target. The target – a black haired, pale woman with a rich, honeyed voice. An English accent. In Mississippi.
"Who are you?" she demanded, gun trained on the intruder, who had seemingly appeared from thin air to materialise behind the dead girl.
"Come now, Sheriff. I have only come to offer my assistance. Do you greet everyone this way?"
The Sheriff flushed. She reluctantly returned her gun to the holster. It would do her no good with this woman anyway. Drawing her weapon was an overreaction to not being able to sense the woman.
"My name doesn't matter, particularly. But I can tell you that I have been hunting the…person who committed this murder for some time. She is close. I can help."
The Sheriff's eyes narrowed.
"I think your name does matter, vampire. Since it could have easily been you who killed this girl."
"Perhaps. But it wasn't. I do not need to kill to feed."
She said it simply, and for some reason, the Sheriff believed her.
"Fine," the Sheriff said, surprising herself. And the other woman, whose eyebrow lifted a little.
"So what can you tell me?"
"The vampire involved is a child."
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow.
"A child? I thought…"
"Children are not changed into vampires very often - with very good reason. I cannot tell you the reasons for this one's transformation. But suffice it to say, the tales are true. Children who are changed in this way – they become deranged. I have been hunting this one for a very long time. A…very long time."
The rich voice was tinged with a pain that the Sheriff couldn't pinpoint. Was it grief, guilt? She searched the vampire's eyes, but they were dark and blank. It was somehow…soothing. She took a deep breath and unconsciously relaxed.
The vampire was staring at her.
"You are…different. Are you not?"
The Sheriff tensed again and took an involuntary step backwards.
"I…I don't know what…"
"Ma'am? Dr Calder is on her way. Where do you want the perimeter?" Pete's shout interrupted her dissembling. When she looked back, the vampire was gone.