Hunting Night

Hunting Night 

The pub was crowded. Electro-pop loud enough to make conversation impossible, red and blue lights flickering psychedelically. Couples, and groups of women moving to the beat on the dance floor, careless. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of fresh sweat and expensive perfume reached his nostrils; his throat closing with the burning pain he could never quench, mouth watering. 
‘So much to choose from,’ he mused. 
He opened his red-rimmed eyes, his lips stretching in a half-smile half-snarl. 
‘Why choosing at all?’ he wondered, making his way through the dance floor, delighting in the sea of potential preys.
Some women looked at him with open interest; he smiled nonchalantly casting an aura of allure around him, no that he needed it. He was 6-foot-1, with pale skin, dark eyes, and brown hair; his features resembling those of an ancient Greek statue. A few men and women moved out of his way with frantic heartbeats. Their unconscious mind warning them of the threat, the bloodlust he hid under his charm. 
‘It’s a good thing most are stupid enough,’ he thought ruefully. 
He sat at the bar watching, choosing; the pain in his gut was not strong enough to make him lose focus, yet. No, he wanted to take his time, make the night count. 
His eyes landed on a pair of impossibly long tanned legs, covered partially by black, knee-high boots. He slowly trailed his eyes up the perfect feminine figure barely hidden by a short, strapless black dress. Something stirred inside him, a faint echo of what used to be his obsession, many years back. He had tried a couple times to give in to lust, but it wasn’t the same anymore, not after knowing what true pleasure was. His eyes scanned her collarbone and swan neck, her blood-red lips. His mouth watered again, he swallowed feeling parched as her light blue eyes locked with his black stare. 
He felt his cheeks lift as she smiled timidly at him; she was perfect, long raven hair falling free to her waist, her skin unmarred and chiseled features. He got up walking towards her; she kept her eyes on him as she danced, lifting her arms above her head, half-hiding behind her hair.
He grasped her waist pulling her towards him, her eyes leveled with him. She was a tall woman, and even taller on 4-inch heeled boots. 
“Hello, gorgeous,” he purred. 
She smiled, biting down her full lip. “Hello.”  
He leaned in pressing her tighter against him; his cold nose trailing a path from her exposed shoulder up to her neck. Her scent was intoxicating, molasses and almond, almost too sweet, but perfect nevertheless. He swallowed hard enjoying the sight of goosebumps on her silk-soft skin.
“Let’s get out of here, baby,” he whispered looking directly into her eyes. She nodded immediately, her face devoid of emotion, hypnotized. He took her hand and pulled them both out of the crowd, heading for the rear exit. 
Cold night air welcomed them; the odor of burned fuel and garbage made him wrinkle his nose. He pulled her closer inhaling deeply. 
‘Much better,’ he thought, taking her to another alley, a more secluded one, without exit.
She panted when he roughly pushed her against the wall; his cold hands wrapping firmly, almost painfully on her hips.
“M-maybe we can find a better place?” she suggested with whisper-like voice. 
He laughed softly trailing his hands up to her waist, pressing her against his body.
“No, I’ve waited long enough,” he growled.
His sight sharpened, making her the central focus; he ignored the pain caused by the descent of his sharp fangs. He smiled showing the doe-eyed girl the truth about what he was, knowing she wouldn’t live to tell his secret. 
Her wide eyes regained focus, full lips pressing on a wry smile.
“Oh well, if you insist,” she purred. 
Her pupils stretched into vertical cat-like slits, the blue color melted into a silver-white hue; the opposite of his crimson feline stare. He let her go stepping back, seething with surprise. 
“Now, now, it looks like you’ve seen a ghost,” she mocked taking a step towards him. Her voice cold, unearthly.
He stepped back automatically feeling cold, raw power ooze from her. His otherwise impassive heart fluttered, his breath coming in slow bursts. Every cell in his body screaming he should run, blocking the desire of breaking her neck. A part of him wondered if the limb-numbing fear was her doing, or his instincts.
Regaining some control he squared his shoulders, looking into the burning eyes of the female; fighting to shut off the alarms ringing in his head. Run, run, run! 
“What do you say if we part ways?” he asked with feigned nonchalance. “You are no longer… appealing.”
She shook her head, a lock of raven hair falling from her shoulder. “I don’t think so.”
He clenched his jaw not to swallow his frustration. His fangs cutting the inside of his mouth.
“What do you want?” he demanded with equal parts of dread and anger.
She took a measured step towards him. “You have killed a woman a night in the last week, leaving their dry corpses to be found.” She shook her head, eyes blazing with anger. “A careless blood-addict, taking innocent lives, risking us all.”
He hissed, recoiling. “I have covered my tracks.”
She snarled, white fangs visible through her lips. “You call decapitation covering your tracks?”
His fear subsided when anger flared. “And who are you to point your finger?”
She clenched her fists taking a step towards him. “Your executioner.”
He threw his fist at her face, almost losing his footing as he swung at thin air. She had moved faster than even his eyes could register.
She smiled wickedly showing him her longer, sharper, white fangs. “Pathetic.”
His anger evaporated, swallowed by instinct. He turned to run at full speed, only to fly backward, his back slamming hard against the musty brick wall. He stayed down for a second, the alarms in his head ringing louder. 
‘No! This can’t be happening! I will kill her!’ he thought desperately.
She allowed him to stand and fight. Every single one of his blows missed his target, she either moved or blocked him effortlessly. Her silver feline eyes dead, not showing anger, pleasure or fear; and he knew it then, his life was truly over. 
He thought about that fateful night ten years before, the last time he had enjoyed sex. He couldn’t believe his luck when the most beautiful woman in the party had taken him to her hotel room. Her almond black eyes and porcelain face were carved in his memory. She had given him pleasure and then caused him pain so intense he begged for a quick death. Instead, she cursed him, making him like her. A monster.
The sickening sound of his sternum breaking brought him back to the present. He fell on the dirty, humid floor, the roar of his heart on his ears. He almost laughed at the irony of feeling more alive than he had in a long decade just when he was about to die. The last thing he saw was the female beauty taking his head in her hands.
She didn’t have to use her full strength to break his neck. Even for a low-class vampire, he was weak; at least compared to her. She straightened looking down at the unconscious blood-addict sprawled on the ground, opening her senses to confirm no-one was near. Her eyes returned to the pale-blue color, fangs retracting causing an unpleasant sensation she had grown accustomed to over the centuries. She slid her fingers inside her right boot, pulling out a sharp, foot-long blade. Her stomach clenched with disgust, not at him, but at the one that had turned him into that. A second class vampire with a penchant for wickedness, no doubt. 
She hated having to destroy his kind, knowing there was no other way to stop them. Low-class blood addicts could not be taught or threatened to stop. She had tried that once, and the subject of her experiment had broken her heart and almost killed her. Only born purebloods like her, and the ones turned by the purebloods -second class vampires- had some semblance of self-control. 
‘Not all of them, clearly,’ she thought angrily. 
Ignoring her clenching stomach she brandished the blade, cutting his head off in a swift motion that barely produced a splatter. She cleaned the blade on his clothing before sheathing it back in her boot.
She picked up her purse and took out a small perfume-like vial, and a lighter. Carefully, she sprayed his remains, taking a few steps back before tossing the lighter. Orange-red flames erupted violently, the scent of rapidly burning flesh made her nauseated; but she had to endure it, had to make sure his nature remained a secret. It was bad enough there was an organized group of humans hunting down her kind. The last thing they needed was for the whole human population to know the truth.
In less than a minute, flesh and muscle had disappeared, the bones breaking due to the alchemical heat. It was a good thing he’d chosen such a secluded place. The flames died out quickly; after less than 5 minutes the remaining bones were churned beyond any recognition, the rest was only ash. She got close enough to make sure the fangs had wasted away erasing all evidence. Satisfied, she moved fast, becoming a blur as she almost flew through the dim alleys back to where her car was parked. 
She slumped against the leather seat taking a deep breath; hating the taste of his burnt flesh behind her tongue. She could remember every face, every blood-addict vampire she had killed. The events of that night were bound to be repeated, sooner or later. 
She straightened, bringing the roaring engine back to life. She knew who had made him, she had felt her corrupted scent on him.
‘That crazy bitch! When will she stop?’ 
The answer was, of course, never. Not unless she made her. And that she would do.
‘After all, what’s immortality good for if I don’t make some enemies?’ she mused, feeling a smile spread across her face.