Vampire Hunter: Corey Crowgarden's guide to killing vampires for fun and profit.

Interlude 3

Corey wanted them to get a little distance and he would circle back. He wanted to check the two dead in the cell and see what they were carrying. Maybe he could find his phone, contact the rest of the cell, or HA cell. He could understand Harry not wanting to come, but from what he could hear they must've done some damage.
Then he heard it, the sound of clicking high heels on the tiled floor of the hallway.
Fear started to well in the pit of his stomach. It was awake.
He could see it's high heeled boots just outside the door.
It turned and stood just in front of the door.
"Open the door hunter," it said, in a soft, young feminine voice.
"I have a proposition for you," it said again. He could feel that sense against the base of his skull. The cold, dark fear started to creep up his spine and he knew it was reaching out with it's mind.
"I can feel you," it said. "I can hear your breathing, and the beat of your heart. You are doing a very good job controlling it, the breathing exercises. I can understand your mistrust," it said.
"Open the door,'' it said and he felt his hand moving towards the latch. He bit the inside of his mouth, the pain of it shaking the creatures hold."
Corey heard it chuckle. It must've been a beautiful laugh once, but there was no warmth in it, just cruelty.
"Oh, hunter, we would have a lot of fun you and I."
"I don't know why you have such a problem with my little set up. I only hurt those who have hurt others. They're junkies, and thieves, whores and criminals. I don't choose them, the police choose them. I don't kidnap them, the police take them. There are no more vampires walking the streets, half starved and dangerous. My way is beneficial to both sides. You must see the truth in what I'm saying. Then you show up, kill my servants, and my brothers, let loose my wild animals. Don't you understand how futile it is? I will have them back in a few days and all your work, all your sacrifice is for nothing."
It paused for a moment and he could feel it searching beyond for his mind again.
He could feel it, like a cold hand turning pages. He could get an image of it in his mind now. A tall, thin, cruelly beautiful woman, dressed like a model stood on the far side of the door. Her red hair fell about her shoulders and contrasted with her pale skin. Too pale, he thought, unearthly pale, she is almost completely a monster now, even the husk of her semblance no longer looking truly human. Cadaverous, her skin seemed like it was molded from wax. Her green eyes were unmoving, unblinking. She couldn't even remember to pretend to breath. She was once a radiant beauty, but she was like an autumn tree turned to winter with nothing left of life but a hardened bark.
He shivered.
"You are right, hunter. I am no longer that beauty that drove men wild with passion. I am cold and hard and don't recall the warmth of a lovers touch. Just the warmth of the blood when I take it. You are right to fear me. Here is my dilemma which I think you can solve. There is another, like me, only worse. It feeds in the street against my wishes. I have sent my soldiers to find him and they haven't. Many have ended up dead. I have asked my children to find him and they have not returned and I fear they have faced the final death. I know you don't like me, you call me cute little names, like "Lord Whats it."
It cackled again, "just call me Ruby. Cold, hard and red, that's me, just like you think."
A bag dropped on the floor by her feet.
"I'm going to let you go, but I know all I need to know. I can find your children. I can find your wife. I can find you again. Kill this thing for me, they call it Greyson and I will let them live. Greyson has visited your wife already."
When you leave the room turn down the hall again and go to far stairs. It's unlocked. I'll give you three months if you haven't killed it by then I will assume you aren't going to and I will have to take steps," and with that it turned on it's sharp black heels and clicked the other way.
He opened the door and snatched the bag in. It was all there his pistol, his phone, even some WP grenades.
The battery on the phone was dead, and the pistol had been unloaded. His gerber multitool was in the bag and he slipped it back in to his pocket. There were some magazines and he slipped one into the weapon and chambered a round.
He turned the corner, just as the thing had said. It was true, it could have come through the door any time. On the floor was the third jailer. It had fed on him and left him dead, on the wall was written:
3 months
He turned the corner and climbed the stairs to freedom.