Chapter Two: Nightingale

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Chapter Two: Nightingale

A tingling sensation spread on his side, before sprouting on his right shoulder. It was the wrong kind of day to have worn cotton. He groaned, sharply, before narrowing his eyes and rolling his shoulders. After dispatching that hunter, he had felt lightheaded, as if tiredness was attempting to coax him back to bed. However, unfortunately for him, he had to stay, he had something to ask that blasted vampire about.

There was a murder on the news this morning, the second of two mysterious happenings. The second of two annoyances which had begun to plague his day and affected his sleep pattern. It was frustrating. The fact that he could not do as he pleased until after he had found out who was responsible. It was his fault. He had already been reprimanded over the phone, by his sister's screaming at him. Reprimanded by his father's distant yelling.

Gunner knew that he had a dead line. He had been given a month, or he would have to report to the Elders. They were just a council of older vampires and vampire hunters, those that hadn't broken the law and those that had banded together to form a defense against evil.

Gunner thought the defense was a waste of time. In his eyes the vampires were not to be trusted.

"Gods." He scratched furiously at the fabric of his shirt, which chafed his skin. However it took away the pain of his godforsaken itch. Albeit temporarily. 

There appeared to be something different in the air, as he came to the doors to the cloakroom. He nearly sneezed. A sneeze that could have thrown his whole cover and ruined the covert operation. He wrinkled his nose and held in a breath, counting to five. The tingling rush to his nostrils started to go down and he grunted in annoyance.

Stifling a yawn, from the countless sleepless nights pouring over camera footage in search of this one vampire in a sea of thousands of mortal and immortal faces. It had come to this one moment. This one minute that he could get his answer. He waited by the door counting a few seconds, counting away his breath, that he had to catch. This was it. 

He pushed open the door. 

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Desdemona sat beneath the large wide window. Her green eyes flickered with worry for her brother who was late. An unfamiliar chill lifted the hair at the back of her neck, leaving whispers of evil and goosebumps. She knew that this vampire prince was a bad omen in the first place, a bad omen that she was sent on this hunt. It was supposed to be quick and easy. She should have simply lured the vampire out and then they would have been done. This is because, her brother would have had the chance to stake the vampire by now. But there was one vital issue. He was not there. 

A deep pitched cloud rumbled, alone in the clear night sky. This was an echo of the danger that she could feel within her blood, and she feared it. However, on the other hand, alongside the adrenaline came a rush of excitement infused with the fear. As if her whole life had come down to a decision made at this one moment. She shivered. The air was cold. The vampire near her was no living source of heat either, to her distaste. Despite his title, this criminal supernatural prince had no money to buy a warm blooded vessel in which to reside in. Against anything philosophical that could be said, it was impossible for a supernatural being to take purchase in a warm blooded body. 

"Are you okay my sweet? Come closer, my arms are warm." She knew she could have easily gotten away from the scoundrel but she did not wish to blow her cover. As he descended on her, she wished she was at home with her younger sister, Isabel. Drinking lukewarm coffee, and playing with Izzy's grey dachshund - Prudence. She turned her head, shutting her eyes, holding in a breath. The nervousness of her reactions, and her impending doom made her shake with fear. Fear, that a young vampire hunter should not have. Fear that any vampire hunter should not have. Especially since she was well into her teens, she was old enough to have known better. Old enough to have prepared herself better for the situation at hand. 

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