I just stood there for a minute, staring at the ground. I couldn't kill him. Why? What was so different about him than the rest of those bastards? I knew I wasn't doing any more hunting tonight. I slid the axes back into my spinal holsters and secured the gauntlets. I readjusted my shemagh to cover my face and touched the cut on my left arm I almost forgot about. It stung when my skin touched the open wound, like a normal cut.
Now for the girls. The African girl and the redhead were the ones left behind. That poor black girl was not going to like white people for a while, considering vamps were mostly European. I knelt by them and touched a forefinger to both of their temples. Forget, I thought. Forget everything about tonight. Remember that you were attacked by some lame skinheads and a nice girl took them down for you. They ran away and she wished you the best before disappearing. After I leave, you'll both wake up together and feel like sisters.
At least they'd have companionship through this under-dramatic event. I stood and touched my forehead inside the shemagh. My black motorcycle goggles were still there. I pulled them down to cover my eyes; they were still a bit sensitive to streetlights and sunlight even after that first attack so long ago. I walked over to the decapitated vampire body and took out a white drawstring bag. Inside was a fine silver dust. Fairy dust; unless you knew someone, it cost thousands on the open market. I took a pinch and sprinkled it over the body. The components in the dust, from actual fairies if I might add, was used to break down dead materials and make them organic once more. Now a small pile of soil was left in its place.
I strode of out the alley back the way I came, past several more alleys clubs until I came to a community parking lot. I stopped in the fourth row of vehicles and turned left, passing all kinds of cars from Buick to Mercedes. At last I came to the end of the row, to my steed. A metal masterpiece made of steel and carbon filling to make it go faster. Just a simple black and silver Harley, shiny and brand-new. If you saw it, you wouldn't believe I'd had it for three years.
I threw my right leg over the side and kicked the stand up. I poked the key in the ignition and gripped the clutch, revving my bike. The engine purred like a panther I saw at the zoo once; I'd felt closer to the animal than the humans around me. My feet jumped up on the foot stands and I was pouncing down the empty streets, rejoining the highway and leaving my kill behind. For now.
I checked into my sleazy motel room around midnight. With my bike parked out front and the key in my pocket, I opened the door easily. Nothing was stolen; hell, nobody would dare to even steal my bike. Despite how I was in the middle of Crip territory. I wasn't just human, though I was mostly. The way I hunted and the aura I gave off, I had to take a few minutes out of every day to remind myself that I was human.
My father was a fairy, which partially explains why I had some type of Power. My mother was a witch, from the royal line of witches, which helps my spell craft. But I had vampire blood in me; just a little, and not from my parents. But that's a story for another campfire.
I'd constantly cast protection spells over my motorcycle, the rooms I stayed in, and my belongings. It was usually for one of two reasons; one, to keep others from stealing them and two, to add extra damage to my weapons. They were fairly strong and worked well.
I locked the door behind me and turned the light on, shutting the curtains. My gauntlets were removed and placed on the nightstand, the holster with my axes on the floor beside it to be put away later. I plopped down on the bed and unpinned my shemagh, allowing it to fall from my face. I pulled it off of my head, dropping it on the pillow beside me. My braided hair fell in front of my face, a long thick tail of white-silver. Not blond; it wasn't anywhere near blond. It was pure white with a pale silvery sheen. When it was clean it glowed in sunlight; otherwise it was just a greasy mess. I kept it dirty often to prevent attention. I also kept two sets of colored contacts to cover my eyes during the day, brown and blue. I needed it to stay alive in my line of work.
The sharp sound a of zipper ripped the night as I took my jacket off. The old leather crunched in my hands as I struggled minorly to get the slim sleeves off. Once I did, I draped it over the bedpost. Next were the matching leather pants that felt like a second skin I was shedding as they hit the musty carpet. I took my black duffel bag from under the window and took a pair of sweats out, changing into them easily. I ripped the black tank top off and stuffed it inside with the pants, gauntlets and axes. I took out my walking cane and two black police batons. The batons send an electric shock when they hit something and the cane has a hidden blade. My waist holster was laid out with the weapons on the dresser at the foot of the bed. I untied my hair and allowed it to fall loose across my face.
I felt like another sliver of my humanity had been destroyed, become one with the darkness I was trying to obliterate. I barely had any left. Not since that attack, thirteen and a half years ago. I'm different, and not in a good way. I myself am a monster and I always will be. I kill and enjoy those who kill and enjoy. It's a fine line I have to walk every single day, to hope and pray that I don't kill an innocent.
My throat began to burn in that moment at the memory, like it did at least once every day. And I did what I usually did; I took a long, thin needle and poked it through my cut to puncture the artery. I shoved the plunger down to insert the vervain into my system. It felt like my blood was incinerating me from the inside out yet my skin and physical appearance was unaffected. It felt like hours but only lasted five minutes. As soon as the burning stopped I placed the needle tip into a small jar of vervain and sucked the greenish liquid up. The jar was capped and put away just like the needle, wrapped in a sheet of cotton and covered with clothing. The cut had healed right after my injection.
I zipped the duffel shut and pushed it back, lying on the bed and tugging the blankets over me. I had a visit to make tomorrow, and a hunt tomorrow night. Preparation is key. My eyes became heavy as I drifted off.
