First Blood
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stand in the shadows as I watch in humor the goings about around me. Inside the crowded cafe, I feel the presence of a vampire. The aura is obvious and the smell of fresh blood is apparent. I am not a mortal as many mistake me for. I hate humans and will have nothing to do with that race of idiots. Triste witches, as myself, are not so easily frightened for it is vampires that are afraid of us. I could walk up to a vampire and say bite me if I wish to do so. Triste witches have blood that is poisonous to vampires, which often comes in handy. I prefer to do it the old fashioned way, with a dagger. Not just any dagger, for a normal dagger would have no effect whatsoever considering that the wounds would heal in a matter of seconds. I use a dagger that will will scar or kill a vampire.
My thoughts are interrupted by a hand clasping over my mouth.
"Come, do not protest," a man demands.
~This one is foolish.~ It is obviously a vampire. The aura is obvious, since he is stupid enough not to sheild it. He is weak, most likely of the Ironica line. He pulls me out of the cafe and into the night.
"I sense you have no fear, that makes you different form other humans. Most shudder under my clutch. It will make your blood taste oh so sweeter," he says to me as he pulls my black hair away from my throat.
Seeing this routine so many times, I know exactly what is happening. His normally regular canines are growing into razor sharp needles. Suddenly, I feel them pierce through the skin and deep into the vain as blood draws out. All the while, I feel his lips caress my neck as he consumes the liquid by sucking. All of a sudden, it stops. He has realized what I am.
"You're a witch," he comments.
"Literally and psychologically. Thanks for noticing," I say slyly," I am Fabricia, a vampire hunter. But, I am also Fabricia Dominiques Triste, second bloodline in strength. Damn! You didn't drink enough to kill you. Looks like I'll have to do this the old fashioned way. You know I'm not going to let you go because I haven't failed a mission yet and don't intend to start today."
He begins to back away as I stealthly reach down to my ankle. Finding the holder, I pull the dagger out. Holding it in two fingers, I look back at the killing machine. I can sense fear in his eyes and decide to get it over with. With the slightest flick of my wrist, the dagger leaves my fingers and dives into his heart. He falls back onto the ground.
I step on his chest and say few words as I pull out my dagger.
"Jolly good show, wot?"