Inspired by Abraham Lincoln : Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith.
1. white, black, red, reborn. You were just too interesting to be let eaten, my dear - AU, CynthiaSteven, mentioned RileyCheryl
Vampires don't exist in the real world, where all that matters is humans, humans and money, the country, the living.
She doesn't live in the real world, bustling with the solid flesh and blood of mortals following light and laws, staying away from the shadows. She knows that vampires exist, and she tracks the non-existent bloodsuckers down and stakes them, watches tearlessly as they hiss and crumble into long-overdue ash.
She didn't start, the lovely Cynthia with the long, pale, golden hair, she didn't start this brutal kill because of vengeance, or of retribution, or anything like that.
(Heavens, no, all her family members are safe, and they never knew about the reality of the hidden lurkers)
No, she started it because of a little gray-coloured birdie, whispering the names and addresses of murdering beasts into her ear with that raggedness, the hoarse whisper breathing down on the tip of her ear, making her shiver in something unidentified.
(You were just too interesting to be let eaten, my dear)
The average, mundane people who live day to day do not understand why there are deaths. They do not understand why some days, there are ashes blowing in the wind, and can't correlate them with the decrease in murders and disappearances.
But she does. He does. And that's all that matters sometimes.
(And see, you do make it a better world, my dear)
.
She met him when she was little, watching two men fight about something. One of them, silver-haired and well dressed, seemed angry, and just when she thought the shouting was getting too loud, he reached out and ripped off the other man's head.
Little Cynthia, dressed in pretty princess white lace and ruffles, wasn't scared. She just pouted at the red stains on her shoes.
(Later, much later, it was revealed that the killed man wanted to eat her)
The angry man apologized, no longer quite angry, and offered to buy her something to suit her fancy - candy, maybe, or a shiny trinket or two. She refused, and he laughed, patting her little golden head, and telling her she had spunk.
(She liked him)
Introducing himself as Steven, the well-dressed man with silvery hair dropped her off at her house, but only after making her promise that she wouldn't tell, wouldn't let the secret be known, because that wasn't nice, and friends didn't do that, and weren't they friends now?
She pinky-swore, and left to Grandma's.
(Thank you)
He visited, a constant in her life as everything changed as it must, and occasionally taught her about just what this world was. It's quite strange to her young mind, with her parents and Grandma telling her that there were no monsters in the dark, under her bed, trying to convince her of myths being harmless, while her friend always proved that they existed, and would do more harm than what her nightmares could provide.
She chose to never let others know of what her dark guardian angel taught her. She soaked up all of his teachings like a dry sponge, letting him mentor her in the ways to survive and live when faced with the dangerous legends in undead flesh.
(Such an interesting child….)
It helped when she was attacked by one of the shades, in the woods near her house. Steven wasn't there, away to feed, and only she could help herself get out of the situation with her head secured to her body.
The slobbering thing was on top of her, and it was all she could do to make sure he didn't get a good grip and sink his teeth into her. When her desperate fingers found and closed around the splintered branch, there was no time to think.
She kicked, and with the brief respite bought by that move, she stabbed. Again, and again, and again, until the howls died out and the blood stopped gushing and there was nothing less but a pile of crumbled ashes and corpse dust but she just kept going until a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and gently pulled her off.
Steven had returned. And luckily, he had been the one to find her first.
He held her and stroked her head until her breathing returned to normal and she could stand without her legs shaking tremulously.
(Remarkable, darling)
Seventeen, and a sort-of killer. The vampires aren't really alive, and she supposes it can't be murder if they don't actually live.
Steven was proud, but more than that, he was inspired. She could see the light in his eyes, the gears turning in his head as he pondered this newfound information. He asked if she wanted to consider vampire hunting.
(But aren't you a vampire?)
(I'm a 'good guy')
And she couldn't really bring herself to disappoint the one person who knew the truth, who had always told her the truth
She shed her clothes of white, painting herself in black instead so she could follow his lead into the shadows of the world where magic breathed and monsters dwelled. She moved out of her family's home, made stakes in her spare time, carried around light weapons capable of devastating damage, and trained with her guardian.
And she became a mortal weapon aimed against the undead that chose to wreak havoc amongst human lives.
Steven was proud.
(I'll be very disappointed in you if you get yourself killed)
.
Twenty undead re-die at her hands, meeting death for real this time, all in the span of two years. Word about a gifted human spread, but those that have cause to fear her don't protect themselves right, because they don't know it's one of them helping out, betraying them.
The numbers and years grow, never quite leaving her.
She doesn't want it to. She doesn't look back.
(Fantastic)
Twenty-two years old and no romantic interest at all. Her family worries and intervenes. They start to believe that she has joined a cult.
Steven offers to pretend to be a lover. He meets the family, is told names he has matched to faces long ago, and is the perfect, charming gentleman. He distracts them from the minor details of how he doesn't eat with them, how he only seems to visit around the evening with animated talks and witty jokes.
Her family is enchanted, and they worry no longer.
Cynthia doesn't let herself fall into the same spell. Or so she tells herself, because she is afraid that she will lose him if she tries to hold onto him.
(He seems like such a nice boy)
In her seventh year of hunting, she runs into two that travel together, a man with black hair shining azure and a woman with long green hair braided back. She went after the bigger threat, the man, but before she could stake him in the heart the woman had knocked him out of the way, stepping into the path of the stake and taking the hit instead. The green-haired woman swiped at her, but it was a mortal hit she had landed, and the vampire stood no chance.
Cynthia pulls the stake out, and then has to go on the defensive when the man turns near-feral, rage turning him into a beast. She barely dodges the blow that would tear her head off her head, and stakes him in the throat. When he slumps over her, dead weight hanging over her body, she grits her teeth and digs the stake into his heart.
Once the sure kill's been delivered, she shoves his crumbling body off and sinks to the ground. She looks down, and it takes a moment for her to realize that her clothes are soaked in blood - her blood. The adrenaline had hidden the pain from her, but now that the action is done it will sink in eventually, and then she'll bleed to death.
This is the end for her.
(Oh, no)
He comes, just a bit late. It's still too late.
He holds her hand as she fades out, and then closes her eyes for her, to make her look more serene. Her body is put nearer to a city, and a man is manipulated into stumbling onto her body.
Her family is devastated, and they arrange a private burial for the twenty-four year old woman that will never be twenty-five.
(The casket remains closed. That is good)
The gray-haired man in the neat suit stays behind, a look of misery on his face. The family clucks in sympathy, the sound increasing at the empty ring box he pulls out of his pocket.
(The ring is on her finger, where it belongs)
At the night, he comes back, and watches as a pale hand with the wedding band on the ring finger thrusts out of the earth.
(You were just too interesting to be let eaten, my dear)