I forgot to mention it before, but this story also has loose ties to Paranormalcy, by Kiersten White. If you've never even heard of the book, that doesn't much matter. But I have to give credit where credit is (no matter how partially) due.
Equinox
Chapter Two
Not all paranormal creatures were bad. However, they had to do bad things in order to prolong their existence. This made them a liability; one that could potentially make a serious dent in the human population. For that sole reason, they must be exterminated . . . at all costs.
It wasn't easy. You couldn't look a creature -"living" or "dead"- in the eyes and take what little life it possessed without feeling some sort of remorse. I had been raised in a way as to disperse of such emotions; to kill without hesitation. For the most part, I did well. There was always that sickening crunch of guilt pooling in the pit of my stomach, though.
Only once did I really consider allowing an unwilling abomination to live.
The mission had been one of extreme routine. I had been training for such instances since I could walk, and had been hunting since age eleven (properly supervised, of course). Therefore, on my fourteenth birthday, they determined that I was experienced enough to hunt by myself.
Dylan, being as protective as he was, adamantly insisted he tag along. I refused. Looking back, I was pretty glad of that. He never would have let me live that one miniscule sliver of wasted time down.
I couldn't help it, though. No amount of suppressed feelings could overcome that one surge to throw away everything I knew, and turn my back to the monstrosity before me.
The night had yet to cool down; strings of the sun's lingering heat tied to the air. Only a small breeze whisked through the trees, balmy and pleasant. I stuck to the shadows the grasping fingers of the towering trees provided, skirting the pools of light created by the street lamps.
I had been investigating the suspicions of a suburban vampire. There hadn't been any human deaths, yet. Yet. But, there had been several reported robberies throughout the small, cozy neighborhood. The only things ever reported missing were priceless jewels. The crook had a knack for picking out real diamonds, versus fakes.
Little known fact: vampires loved expensive jewelry.
The assignment had mostly been one of recon. I wasn't actually expected to wheedle out the vamp. I was just supposed to observe; maybe prohibit any more break-ins. That was before I heard the scream.
As soon as the anguished cry infiltrated my senses, I took off at a sprint. I was still aided by the cover of darkness, but that didn't mean much anymore. The sound had come from a small house at the end of the street.
I paid little attention to my level of stealth, as I skirted around to the back. A vampire feeding became so consumed by the act, that they rarely had room for any other thoughts. They wouldn't notice me. If, by chance, there wasn't a vampire involved at all, a human wouldn't be able to detect me either.
The rear door was cracked open the slightest bit, raining droplets of golden light into the night. There were shuffling sounds coming from within, and the noise of heavy panting. I swallowed thickly once, before edging forward. One last breath, and I flung the door open, jumping over the threshold and into a defensive crouch.
There were remnants of an evening meal still visible in the kitchen. A pot boiling on the stove, a half chopped tomato, scattered ingredients here and there. A dish towel was flung haphazardly on the floor, leading like a checkered path to the pale hand lying limply on the tile.
"I didn't mean to."
My eyes shifted up to meet the pitch black ones of the vampire. His brown hair was slicked back, and he wore incredibly domestic clothing; like he had just arrived home from the office. His entire body was quivering as he hovered over the lifeless woman beneath him.
Her mouth was still shaped in the perfect 'o' of horror she had felt while he drained her body of blood. No spark was left in her once bright eyes. She was definitely dead.
"I just . . . I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt anybody," he insisted fervidly, his voice cracking in a way that displayed how distraught he was.
I wanted to tell him that I knew that. That I knew he, nor any of the others (excusing a few cases), ever wanted their fate. That it wasn't their choice to be monsters.
"I was going to tell her. Tonight. I knew there was a chance that she would run for the hills, screaming all the way . . . but she deserved to know. I loved her. I didn't want to hide who I was anymore," he explained, almost pleadingly. "She was cutting the tomato, laughing about something that had happened at work that day, when she knicked her finger. I had enough self control not to pounce on her because of a little blood. It was fine. Except, she turned around, and then her face got really white . . . and she looked like she had seen a ghost. I didn't realize until then, that my fangs had slid out a little, and my eyes . . . they were already rimmed black.
"I couldn't handle her expression. I couldn't fathom that, in that one second, her faith in who I was depleted instantaneously."
An angry vampire, when being exposed to any amount of blood, was a major threat to anybody. She hadn't stood a chance.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching for one of the holsters on my belt. He didn't seem to catch my action, having been too caught up in staring in shame at the death he had caused.
"I loved her," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He reached out, gently caressing the side of her face. His finger, spattered with her blood, left a thin line down her jaw. I couldn't mistake the sparkle of tears in his eyes.
It wasn't his fault. He couldn't help his instincts. He never wanted to be a soulless, blood sucking creature. He didn't have a choice. He never had a choice. How could I kill him?
With one twitch of my wrist, the wooden stake I had protracted from my belt sunk deep into his chest.
Not all paranormal creatures were bad. However, they had to do bad things in order to prolong their existence.
My expression hardened to solid rock. I shoved any feelings other than triumph deep into the cavernous vaults inside me, before taking my phone out and calling the kill in. A team would arrive shortly, where they would proceed to tag and log the vamp, then either take him back to the labs or set him out somewhere sunny and watch his body burn.
When asked later, I smiled and lied straight through my teeth. Yes, of course it was the best birthday present ever. My first solo assignment, and a successful kill. I couldn't be any prouder.
Inside, I couldn't have been any sicker.
I wasn't really sure why I was entertaining that memory now. It had been a little over a year since the incident. I had gone on tons more assignments, and saw to the end of countless paranormals. Besides, it wasn't like my hesitation then was anything like Anne's hesitation now.
No, she just didn't trust Dylan and I to take care of ourselves.
The sound of a screeching car, followed by the undeniable thundering of an explosion, snapped me from my reverie. I glanced up in time to see the giant mushroom of orange and red flames coalesce across the entire screen; eating up all the carefully designed graphics.
"No!" Gazzy moaned dramatically, tossing his controller to the side with a huff. Dylan leaned back in his chair, loosely gripping his own. His smirk of satisfaction was halfhearted, barely masking the tension riddled beneath.
I rolled my eyes at the Gasman's overreaction, fiddling with a piece of hair that had wound its way into my eyes. My leg swung rhythmically over the side of the chair, as I burrowed deeper into its soft fabric. I tried to stay as pacified as possible, but my frustration was increasing the more time that passed. Every particle of my being was itching for movement; for something other than this nothing.
"Wanna play again?" Gazzy asked, perking up once more, having already forgotten his crushing defeat. He didn't outwardly say it, but everything about his demeanor was exuding happiness at our misfortune.
"Eh. Maybe later," Dylan promised him, handing him the controller. Gazzy shrugged in response, flicking the console to a different game.
Dylan and I shared a look. His exasperated, and more than rightfully angry, expression mirrored my own. After Marian had ordered us off, we had been unjustly confined to the lounge room. I could only watch Gazzy lose so many games to Dylan, though. My patience, having been not much more than a sliver already, was worn thin.
"Are we just going to sit here, then?" Dylan asked calmly, raising one perfectly golden eyebrow. He folded his large hands in his lap, appearing to have all the time in the world.
I met his intense gaze for a few more moments, before averting my attention to the clock. I watched the second hand make its agonizingly slow revolution around the face. As soon as it hit the twelve again, and the minute hand slid into place over it, I languidly came to my feet.
Brushing invisible dust from my coal gray jacket, I swung my dark blonde braid over my shoulder. Dylan watched my every movement, completely immobile.
"Absolutely not. Let's go."
We made our way, side by side, to the door. Gazzy, being distracted by his video game, hardly noticed our departure. After vaguely shooting us a glance, he turned his attention back to the TV screen with a shake of his head. He knew we were up to no good. He probably just figured we would get caught.
But we wouldn't.
I poked my head out into the hall, observing for signs of life. Security wasn't necessarily high within the building, though. There wouldn't be many stray hunters milling about the premises, either. They were all occupied elsewhere.
Motioning for Dylan to follow, I crept into the hallway. We moved soundlessly down the brightly lit corridor. After a few minutes of this, and a couple twists and turns later, he couldn't help but intrude on the quiet.
"Getting out will be easy, but how are we supposed to get ammo?" he whispered, his words tickling my ear. I came to a stop, attempting to mask the shiver that ran down my spine, having not anticipated his close proximity.
"Well, we obviously have to go to the weapon's room first, nimrod," I replied condescendingly, before walking again. It took a few steps, but eventually I felt his presence hovering close behind me once more.
"Yeah, but obviously Anne changed the combination. How are we supposed to get in? No offense, but you're not smart enough to crack the code," he murmured, and I could hear the smug smile in his tone.
I bit down the urge to swing a punch, rolling my eyes at his ignorance instead.
"You don't really think that's the only entrance to the weapon's room, do you?" I demanded, turning around to face him, just so he could see my incredulous expression.
He appeared momentarily perplexed, before saying uncertainly: "Isn't it?"
"Not even." I laughed, smiling broadly. "Anne might think it's the only one. Everyone else who lives or stays here might think it's the only one. I, on the other hand, know better."
Dad knew better too, I reminded myself internally, but omitted it out loud. He was gone. It didn't matter what he did and didn't know.
Still boring. I know. Like I said before, I have to start somewhere. Reviews would probably help speed along that process . . .