Me, the Vampire Killer (ON HOLD)

II

I was dressed head to toe in black, with a scarf covering my neck and mouth. I had my traditional leather gloves on, and knee-high black boots. They were flats, so I could land easier after a flip. My jet-black hair was pulled up into a bun and covered by a hat, and my jade green eyes were hidden by blacker-than-black sunglasses. I had my traditional wooden cross hanging from my neck. This could be used as a weapon, if necessary.

I had my sword sheathed, and slung across my back. I had daggers poking out of my boots, also sheathed. Two guns were strapped to my thighs and hidden by a frilly skirt. I preferred using swords and knifes, but guns were always a back-up. I always came prepared. Maybe over-prepared. But hey, that was just me.

I walked all the way downtown, since cars were also too identifying. It was a pain in the butt and even more of a pain is when you have to fight a clan of vampires after you walked miles with worn-out shoes on.

I arrived at my destination fifteen minutes later. The door was open at the house, so I went ahead and slipped inside, silently. I was trained at a young age to walk silently. It was my favorite trait about myself.

It was as if I had walked in on one of the Saw movies being filmed. There were eight bodies lying in the living room. A few of them had swords sticking out of their chests, some with daggers poking from their necks, and even one who was completely decapitated.

The killer of these vamps had stuck their cross necklace in the hand of the headless guy. It was currently burning a hole through his hand, so I quickly snatched it out and stuffed it in my sword sheath. I also took out my sword and sliced the guy's hand off. I took the hand and wrapped it around my wrist, tightly. The police would have gotten suspicious of a cross burnt through the hand.

I ran out of the house and also ran all the way home. The wind stung my cheeks. While running, I started taking things off in anger. I yanked my hat off of my head and ripped the rubber band out of my waist-length hair. It cascaded down my back. I took the sunglasses from my eyes and kept running. I ripped the scarf down to my neck. I turned onto my long street and continued running. And I was silently running, which I found exhilarating and creepy at the same time. But then I remembered I was mad and continued the emotion.

I busted through the door of my house and found my dad sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and the newspaper. He would sit like this until I came home from a killing. If I took more than an hour he would come looking for me.

I wasn't even out of breath, that's how angry I was. I set down my hat, sunglasses, and scarf. I slammed the cross and the hand down on the table and stared into dad's pair of jade green eyes, the identical color of mine.

"What is this?" He demanded, examining the necklace.

"Somebody is stealing my kills, that's what. And I get paid for those!" I sank down into a chair and balled my fists into my hair. I wanted to pull it out.

"I'll help you track them down. But for now, you need to kill a little earlier. Still at dark, but like, twenty minutes earlier. Now, after you go put your weapons away, I want to see you in my study."

Rule number two: cover yourself. It is best that if you do encounter humans, that they do not recognize who you are. Make sure to cover your eyes, as they are the most unique and the most identifying feature of people.