The Hunt

Part 1

ⓒ Copyright to Megan Harrison. "The Hunt" 2012.

THE HUNT

PART ONE

"Why are you following me?" the blonde girl turned on her heel to face me. She raised her left eyebrow and placed her hand on her hip. She tossed her hair over her shoulder with her other hand, and waited. "So?" she asked.

I had been following her for weeks, but, this time, I was so close to her I could really take in her bold features. She was pretty, but there were prettier. I mean, she had coffee-coloured eyes, but they were heavily encased in thick mascara. Her lips had a good plumpness to them, that wasn't too big, but she had smudged a crimson red across them that wasn't her colour.

Let's not even start on the bleached hair.

"Who said I was following you?" I answered casually.

Her brown eyes raked over my black, wavy hair cascading down my back. I smiled sweetly at her, almost innocently, which made a small laugh escape from my lips. She frowned at my deep green eyes, which kept shifting to hazel. Maybe I did that part on purpose to scare her.

"Who are you?" She frowned, dropping her hand from her hip; her brown eyes losing their confidence. I could smell her fear from where I was standing, and she crossed arms around her tightly to hide the fact they were shaking.

"I thought daddy told you to be more careful?" I grinned as she froze. She looked around the alleyway, looking for an escape, but I wasn't stupid. I hadn't followed her all these weeks to corner her somewhere she could just get away. No, there was no escape.

"Go on, try," I said with the a sigh. "But we don't have all day."

"You don't exist," she whispered, closing her eyes tight. "Who are you?" she shrieked.

"Would you like to pinch yourself? See if you're dreaming? Feel free to do so," I said with a lazy wave of my hand.

"Go away!" Her eyes peeled open and she started to pace backwards, away from me. I sighed, knowing her attempts were completley useless.

"That's not going to work, is it? Think about that, blondie." I took a confident stride towards her. She reached into her back pocket, probably thinking I didn't see. I could see the hint of a silver blade lying in her sweaty palm. She took a baby step forward, flashing the knife at me.

"Don't come near me, or you'll regret it!" Her voice was shaken, scared. I had to bite my lips together to stop laughing.

"Would you kill someone?" I asked, after a slight pause. "Would you carry that on your back for the rest of your life? You would be a murderer." She narrowed her eyes at me, and gripped her hidden knife tighter.

"You aren't someone; you're a something. A vampire." She sprung toward me, grabbed my shoulder and stabbed me forcefully in my stomach. She gasped and sprung back from me, putting her now bloody hands over her mouth. A tear trickled out from her eye, and she stared at me with concern.

I pulled the knife out of my body, with a slight grimace. Blood trickled down my top until the wound closed. That didn't feel too great.

"Wrong," I corrected her. "I'm immortal." I threw the knife to the side, and I took a stride towards her. Blondie stepped back, her back crashing into the wall. She whimpered and I could see her entire body was trembling. Bits of mascara was spreading down her cheeks, and, to me, she looked hopeless.

I looks in her eyes, and I saw a slight sparkle, and it confused me. Eyes were always the window to someone's soul...so why weren't hers begging?

"What do you want?" She shivered, her eyes locking on her knife covered in my blood. It was about five meters away to the left where I had thrown it. I could grab it if I wanted, but she didn't stand a chance to hold it again. Anyway, she had learned what happens when she tried.

"I need some information." I narrowed my eyes. "Answer them and I'll let you go."

Her gulliable mind saw it as an escape, so she nodded quickly. She gulped and asked in a shaky voice what I wanted to know.

"Why is your father after me?" I asked, my voice becoming deeper. I wasn't here to play 'try to kill the scary immortal, I was here for business. Business that had cost me weeks to even get here.

"I...don't know. He's a detective, and recently he's been doing a lot of cases about vampires. I'm not sure about why." She opened up pretty quickly, but I could tell she was telling the truth. Did she give up that easily?

"He has no idea," I said, observing her reactions.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"Vampires aren't rare, anyone could be one," I said. She looked at me confused, but I didn't want to elaborate on the subject much further. "They are normal people that have fangs at night," I said quickly.

"Then why are you so"-she looked me up and down-"pretty?"

"Wa that meant to butter me up?" I let out a quick laugh. "I said, didn't I? I'm not a vampire, not even close. I am an immortal, which means I have more skills than a vampire. Anyway, enough of the lesson time. How does your father know about me?" I asked. I wanted this job to be done with already.

"All the vampire cases Dad gets is from a man called Sydney. I don't know anything else about him," she told me. She wanted to live badly, then why doesn't she try to kill me again? Or maybe she's sweet-talking her way out of her death. Or maybe, she's given up hope. The thought actually made me feel a little upset deep inside. Deep, deep, deep inside.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked. I only laughed back, and fear shone in her eyes. "Please, I can help!" she begged.

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you want to live so badly?"

"I'm scared of dying. I don't want to die," she begged uselessly. "Please, it's my biggest fear. I-I...I don't know how-"

"Then you should have never been born," I said, stepping right into her face. I gripped her shoulder and neck with both hands. She started the shake with fear.

"No! I can help! I can get the information! Please!" she practically screamed at me, desperately.

"Sorry," I whispered, contrast to with her loud voice. "This is a one-man job."

I twisted her neck one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, and she fell limp. She died just like that, painfully but quickly. My hands were covered in my own blood from earlier. I stepped back from my work, and I grinned. It looked more like a murder now. I took the knife from her bloody chest.

I turned from the alleyway and ran.