Survival of the Fittest

Chapter One: Abominations

‘Peter Kieran Richards, I am going to kill you!’ I screamed through the house, stomping up the stairs, soaked to the core by soapy washing up water that my idiotic older brother had unceremoniously dumped over my head not one minute beforehand. ‘I’m serious! I’ll take mum and dad’s silver plated stake and I will shove it up your backsi-’

‘Clematis! Don’t you dare finish that sentence!’ my mother’s voice called from the hallway below me – obviously she’d returned home from her shopping trip. A normal grocery shop, thank you very much, not a weapon shop or whatever you were expecting. We’re still human, we do need to eat.

At my mother’s words a screech made its way out my mouth through my gritted teeth and I stormed back down the stairs to let my mother see exactly what it was she was defending. Yes, note that I say ‘what’ and not ‘who’ when it comes to Peter. He doesn’t deserve to be labelled a human, in fact I would be beyond elated if he were to be turned into a vamp so I could stake him or at least carry out that threat I was planning before I was interrupted. When my mother saw me her hand flew to her mouth and I could see her trying to hold back laughter.

I did not appreciate that. Not one bit.

Letting out a similar sound to my previous one, I threw my arms up, and made my way to Peter’s room. The door was barricaded so I couldn’t get in, and I rolled my eyes in frustration. ‘Peter dear,’ I said in the sweetest tone I could muster whilst talking to my brother. A worried yet amused squeal arose from the room I was talking into – yes, I can tell Peter’s emotions from his squeals. He is just that easy to read. ‘You know you’ll have to come out at some point, don’t you? And the later you do, the worse it’s going to get for you. So really, you want to come out now, don’t you?’ I coaxed, feeling like a mouse-catcher with a slice of cheese. A very cold, dripping wet mouse-catcher.

An apprehensive noise came from the bedroom, followed by a gulp. A few moments later I recognised the sound of furniture being moved across the room and smirked in satisfaction. Ooh, this was going to be fun.

Let’s just say, when Peter came down to dinner later on he had a black eye, multiple further bruises and was damp from the ‘apology hug’ I gave him after.

Mum was not impressed.

Peter was not impressed.

Dad, when he arrived home later, chuckled and held out his hand for a fist bump, which I gladly gave him.

Jonah, my adoptive brother, proclaimed I was the greatest sibling in the entire world. Which put Peter in an even worse mood.

All I could say was, well poor him.

Served him right. He should have known not to mess with the sister two years younger than him that was about twice as strong as he was. Golly, I never knew he was that stupid.

I was about to go to bed that night when my mum sighed and put down her phone, which had buzzed a minute ago signalling the arrival of a text message. ‘Clematis,’ she said, standing from where she sat on the sofa. I looked up to her, wincing internally having just made the decision to go up to bed and knowing what was coming. ‘Vampires. St Lucas Street. Get the bags.’

Let me get something straight, here and now. There were five people in that room, myself and the rest of my family. And there is a reason my mother chose me to accompany her on the hunt.

I. Am. Strong.

In fact, I’m the strongest in my family. Stronger than my mum, stronger than my dad, stronger than my two brothers. And why is that? It’s because I train the most. I put the most hours in. I’m ten times smarter than the rest of my family when it comes to tactics in a fight. And, of course, I’m a natural. By the time I was twelve I had already killed over fifteen vamps, a feat usually only achieved at around the age of fifteen. So I’m basically a prodigy that everyone’s very proud of. Yeah, it’s all very tedious.