She tapped “Dinner” and a tick appeared in the box, then she looked down at “Weapons.” Still more to do tonight. She put the phone into the bag and walked back to the main street.
Her muscles relaxed back to normal. The blood red eyes returned to sky blue. The claws and fangs retreated. Her face softened as the blood soaked into her flesh. And then her lips shone in a seductive blood red and cheeks glowed.
Thorn made her way back down the main street, walking with an intent marked by her long strides. Other night time locals eyed her with desire, just as the thugs did, but their interest diminished as her dark aura swept before her, forcing them back into the shadows.
She reached her car, a beaten up old Ford Escort, and climbed inside. She missed the comfort of her BMW but knew not to draw too much attention to herself.
She sat in the car for a moment, took a deep breath, and then stared out into the darkness.
Yet another night alone. Life would be so much easier if I had someone to help me. A friend with whom to share the dark and to provide protection during the daylight hours. Why must I always be alone?
She looked at her phone again. Weapons. Things were going to change. Tonight would be a new beginning.
The key turned, the engine rattled to life, and she drove off to her next task.
She headed to an old industrial estate and towards the abandoned warehouses. She turned the last corner, drove diagonally across the old car park, and over the cracked and crumbled tarmac, while flattening down the weeds and grass that had started to reclaim it back to nature. The street lights had been broken long ago, and the white lines of the parking spaces were faded and broken.
The other car in the area flashed its lights twice. She parked opposite it, copied the signal, and then emerged. From the other car, a man got out and approached. His head was shaven and face stubbled. He wore a pale blue tracksuit top, trousers, and white trainers. They met in the middle.
“Thorn, good to see you. Have you fed?” he asked, his face tense.
She smiled. “Yes, Carrick. I fed, you are safe.”
“Cool,” he replied and relaxed. “Your order is in the boot.”
He turned and ushered the way to his car.
“You got it all, the silver sword, the silver knives, and the guns?” she asked as they walked.
He nodded back. “Why silver? Surely it is deadly to you.”
“Of course it is. It is deadly for all vampires, but I don't intend to fall on my own sword.”
“For other vampires. Why?”
“Vampires fight, just as humans fight. There are two types of vampires. The others are a disease,” she replied and clenched her fist.
“Not friends then.”
He navigated around to the boot and pressed the key fob. The boot opened to show a grey blanket-covered shape inside. A distinctive smell flooded out. She sniffed at the air. A bad smell. The blanket flung off; a decaying Turned vampire snarled back.
“Carmella,” Thorn shouted.
Carmella her enemy, one of the inferior decaying Turned vampires—not like her, a true born, a true blood vampire. Carmella's skin was grey and decaying. Her eyes were dead black pools, and her greasy black hair tied back into a limp ponytail.
It’s a trap.
Carrick dived to the floor. Thorn turned to run, but a pain pierced into her back. She ran on, reached behind and pulled out a dart. Carmella sprinted after her, firing off more darts that whizzed past.
The drugs from the dart absorbed into her body. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the floor. She snarled and growled, forcing her vampire powers to erupt. Her eyes went blood red. Her claws and fangs pierced the air. Her muscles rippled with dark power. The vampire rage willed her onwards, burning off the subduing drugs, and she staggered back to her feet.
Around the corner, two white vans hurtled across the car park. Thorn regained her footing as Carmella slashed with her claws. Her forearm sliced open, but she punched Carmella to the floor. On a normal day, Carmella would be no match for her, but the drugs in her system had slowed her down.
The vans screeched to a halt, spinning their back ends around. The doors burst open to a flood of Turned vampires and Hunters. Turned and Hunters together, that isn't right. Yet, they were working together. The Turned vampires with claws and fangs, and the Hunters carrying silver nets. The Hunters usually hunted both types of vampires. Something had changed, and it wasn't good.
She stumbled back to her car with Carmella hot on her heels, and the unholy alliance of Turned and Hunters blocking her path. Her enemies had surrounded her. The first of the Turned attacked, she defended herself, blocking their attacks and soaking the ground in blood. She ripped out throats and broke limbs of her attackers.
Carmella jumped on her back, smothering her face with rotting hands. She threw Carmella over her shoulder, front kicked another Turned vampire to the floor, blocked and punched another assailant out of the way as she fought her way back to her car.
A Hunter in front fired a weapon shooting out a silver net. The net enveloped her, causing the silver to burn against her exposed flesh. Her hands clawed at the silver net and burnt on contact. She growled against the pain and ripped the net off into the face of a Turned vampire.
The Hunter's silver swords slashed and jabbed. She dodged their blows and stepped inside their sweeping arcs, and then cut them down with her fangs and claws. She fought onwards leaving a trail of dead bodies. Two more sharp pains hit her side, and she ripped out the tranquiliser darts, but another silver net flew at her. Smoke erupted from her face and hands, while her rage fought against the subduing drugs. Her legs buckled, and she fell to the floor again.
The Hunters jumped on top of her, pinning her face down onto the floor, forcing the net further against her skin. Her wrists and ankles burnt against the silver net as they restrained her. Then another series of pains stabbed into her back, and the drugs flooded her system.
The Hunters let go, and she rolled onto her back to break free. A circle of Hunter's faces stared down, and smoke from her burns rose above her through the circle of faces into the night. Her eyesight began to fade, the faces grinned, and then blurred until the heavy dose of drugs and pain overwhelmed her. She fell into a dark sleep.
Strange dreams developed in her mind. The past eight hundred years merged into one big muddle of thoughts and desires. Images flashed across her mind of vampires past and present—her friends and her enemies. She remembered her mother and father, and then the night the army of the Turned vampires attacked and killed them. She remembered her revenge.
She woke. Her head hazed. She checked her hands and face. They had healed from the silver and regained their smooth pale appearance and touch.
She stared up at a white ceiling, holding a series of strip lights in rows, and winced from the lights shielding her eyes with her hand. Her head throbbed, but she sat up straight on the small single bed in the corner of a bare white cell. A single wooden chair sat in the middle and a large mirror inset in the wall. At the other end of the room, a thick heavy metal door blocked the exit.
She couldn't just sit there. She stood up. Her legs trembled for a moment, and she grabbed the wooden chair to steady herself. The moment passed, and her legs strengthened. In the mirror, her reflection showed her unchanged in black boots, leggings and a red vest top. She rose from the chair and stumbled to the door. Her hands reached out and pushed against it, and then smoke filled the air. She staggered back, staring at her burning hands and yelled.
Above, the lights changed colour, and her exposed flesh burnt all over. Yet more smoke billowed into the air, and yet more of her screams followed. The pain racked through her body and drove her backwards to the bed and safety. On her hands and knees, she crawled underneath the bed, pulling the blankets off and wrapping them around herself.
She waited in her blanket protection for the lights to change. The colour in the room switched and whirling fans sounded to suck out the thick cloud of smoke
collected against the ceiling. Thorn studied her hands as the skin slowly began to heal. She pushed the blanket aside to crawl back out into the exposed bare white cell.
In front, the mirror changed to clear glass and through it were two figures. The first was Carmella, still clothed all in black combat gear. The second was an older man with thick grey hair, dressed in a black suit and white shirt.
“Finally awake. Enjoy your sleep?” Carmella asked.
Thorn shuffled to the glass and leaned against it to glare in.
The older man's eyes widened in fear, and he backed away.
“Let me do the introductions. You know me of course. This other gentleman is Gabriel Fenwick. He will lead the research on you. We want your secrets, Thorn. We want your power. Your superior strength, your psychic abilities, and your defences against crucifixes and fire. Why should we be condemned to these weak decaying bodies? You created us. You should fix us. We expect you to do as you're told. There is no escape. As you have already discovered, the door is silver coated. The UV strip lights are controlled from this panel.”
Carmella pointed to the wall inside the observation room then continued.
“The prison is guarded by Hunters armed with silver bullets. Best to comply with our requests. We will need samples and will conduct tests. Don't comply and we will withhold blood and torture you with UV light. You will be here for some time. Plenty of time to review how I beat you,” Carmella said. Her decaying skin cracked as she grinned.
“You were lucky,” Thorn replied.
“Lucky. It was a five-star plan, perfectly executed.”
Thorn snarled at the glass. It steamed up from her hot breath, and her claws scraped the surface. Gabriel winced at the noise and gritted his teeth.
“Is there anything you want to make your stay more comfortable, Thorn?” Gabriel asked.
She glared at both of them in turn. Gabriel shuffled further back from the glass, but Carmella held her position.
Thorn growled through fanged lips. “Yes… I want vengeance.”
### THE END ###
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