Michael Stone watched from the rafters of the old warehouse. He had worked his way up into the dank and dusty old beams carefully and quietly. It had taken precious time. Time that he knew he might not have had.
There was just enough light filtering in through the clouded window panes of the warehouse's old roll-up door for him to see. The scene below him was eerie enough without the criss-cross pattern of shadows on the floor. Stone slowed his breathing even further than he already had. He slowed his heartbeat down to what should have been dangerous. He relaxed, centering himself, and he waited.
Below him, sprawled onto the damp and dusty floor, was a young woman. She was about 18, Michael figured. She was pretty, but not beautiful. Plain was the descriptive word, with her brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She was dressed in a short vinyl skirt and a one-strapped tank top. Stone noticed that the half-shirt had been pulled low, revealing a bare left breast. The skin there was smooth and creamy, her areola darker, almost brown. The nipple was erect from the slightly cool, damp atmosphere inside the warehouse.
Standing over the girl was Michael's target. It looked like a man, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a brown sweater. The hair was dark and long. But, Michael knew that this was no man. Perhaps it once had been. Now, it was a vampire.
The vampire kneeled down and reached for the woman's head. As the creature cradled her head in his hands, Stone eased the katana sword from its carry position across his back. He clutched it tightly in his left hand, holding the sheath near its top. His highly trained senses strained outward, feeling the vampire's mind with his own.
The vampire smiled down at the sleeping girl. He tilted her head, exposing her neck. He watched the visible, smooth line of her jugular vein. As he did, the two extra canine teeth slid from their openings in his upper gum. He opened his mouth wide, and began to lower his head. A rat scurried across the floor somewhere behind him.
Michael Stone, vampire hunter, dropped silently from the rafters. When he landed lightly on the concrete floor, his cloak swished softly. The vampire stopped the movement of his head. The creature turned. He did not understand why the human was there. He was in a state of utter disbelief. No human could sneak up on a vampire. He should have smelled him. He should have felt him.
It only took another instant for the vampire to realize exactly what the man was. The black cloak, hanging loosely at his sides, the body armor reinforced suit, the gunmetal colored chain mail armor at his neck all told the vampire that this man was a hunter.
Stone smiled slightly, then ever so slightly shifted the grip on the sword in his left hand. The vampire stood. With an inhuman yell, the creature charged Michael. Stone shifted to the left, unfurling the side of his cloak, the movement distracting the attacking fiend. With a swift, fluid movement, Michael unsheathed the katana and moved its blade in a slicing arc. The vampire's body continued to run forward as its head was severed instantaneously. Then the headless body stopped and slumped to the ground.
Stone did not take time to admire his handiwork. He wiped the blood from his sword on the vampire's sweater. He then checked the girl. She was beginning to awake now, free from the vampirical mind control. Stone decided that it was better if she was still asleep. He struck her in the juncture of her neck and shoulder with a stiffened finger. She went instantly unconscious. He would take her to an all-night diner nearby and call her a taxi.
Before he left, though, he placed the head and body of the vampire together amongst some old crates in a corner of the warehouse. He doused them with gasoline and set them afire.
He checked on the still sleeping girl, and they were gone from the area within a few minutes.
Lena watched them leave. She turned to her mistress, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. Anita nodded her head at the unspoken question from the blonde haired vampire. Anita's green eyes sparkled in the streetlights, and her raven black hair was damp from the mist. She ran a fingertip across the pale skin of her cheek, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.
"He has killed another one," Anita said, her voice heavy with a Latin accent. Lena moved closer to Anita, embracing her mistress, lightly caressing her body through the thin material of her shirt. She kissed the exposed top of Anita's breasts, and nuzzled her face in the ample cleavage.
"That was a revenant, a diseased creature that wantonly kills for pleasure," she told the other woman, stroking her hair to calm her.
"Will he kill us, too?" Lena asked, her voice muffled by Anita's swelling breasts.
"I do not know, young one," Anita replied, moving Lena's face to look into her eyes. Anita lowered her lips to Lena's, kissing her softly. "We must be ready if he comes."
To be continued...