Blythe Sullivan

She wasn't afraid of the past; she was afraid of repeating it.

The sky was clearer than she had ever seen it. Cities didn't let you see the stars - they blocked the beauty of the universe with their inconsiderate streetlights and vain skyscrapers. She'd only ever known the safety of suburban lampposts on every corner; never before had she seen such sweet stars.

The buildings were almost as strange as the stars. Blythe had loved history when she was young, loved thinking about wearing gowns or living in a time when New York City was filled with horses and suffragettes instead of Hondas and skyscrapers. This city looked like something out of her picture books - crooked houses dripping with lacy decorations and big, shuttered windows; narrow, cobbled streets not built for the modern world, but something out of time; ghostly fog swirling around her ankles which, she could see now, were one of the only things that still looked modern in this world. Everything else had a ghostly pallor to it, a sort of darkness that stemmed from the air that even smelled like the past.

She had stepped back in time. She could only hope that her old self had been left behind, too.

Her footsteps were quiet in the streets, strangely - it was like there was nothing to echo off of. Brick buildings and concrete sidewalks made heels loud - this strange cobblestoned, wood world was too silent for her liking. Her throat itched to scream, to make any sort of noise, but she remembered the warning and kept quiet.

Kill or be killed.

Blythe had never killed anyone before. She'd never even thought about it. Certainly, she moaned about her annoying classmates and joked with Kylar about getting revenge on those who'd made fun of them when they were freshmen and words stung like bee stings, but she'd never entertained the notion further than that.

She turned absently as she walked, the streets winding and thin, the alleys even worse, so much that she could barely squeeze through one to find another street to walk down when she'd exhausted her original. The feelings of the walls of the two buildings pressing in on her made her breath catch in her throat, and she had to swallow down the thoughts that rushed to her mind. She didn't need to skip dinner or go to the gym one more time. It was irrational. The alley was just tiny, even for someone her size.

Still, it was with relief that she shimmied out of the alley and could breathe fresh air again.

The city was still strangely silent - the prickling thought of just shouting to fill the quiet stillness spoke at the back of Blythe's mind again, but she forced it down. Although she had a lot to scream about, she would not put herself in danger.

It was laughable to think that she was not already in danger.

She swallowed the screams and kept walking, shivering in her dress. Somehow, they'd gotten her dress, her favorite, from her closet back home. They'd given it to her before the drive, before the van, before she'd fully realized what was going on.

Her shoes matched - black wedges, to go with the black background. Her jewelry, even, was coordinated - the sakura flowers printed on the dress were the same shade of pink as the gems set into her earrings. It was one of her favorite outfits, but she didn't know how they'd known.

She didn't want to even think about what they were, much less face the fact that she was one of them.

It was easier to keep walking than think about how when she'd woken at Kylar's dorm, she hadn't known where she was or who she was with. She had barely known her own name, but it didn't matter to her much, because the scary part was her dry mouth and pounding headache and need for the one thing that she couldn't get.

She'd walked back to her apartment, worn, tired, barely able to swallow vomit every few seconds as her body rebelled against the movement and the light. Her stumbling rounds had earned jeers and judging looks, but Blythe couldn't care less.

She'd barely arrived back at her own apartment when they had, two men and a woman, whose quick movements and efficient gestures told her they'd done this before, whatever this was. The woman had helped her dress - the men had half-carried her to a sleek car and buckled her in gently, even their soft voices twisting into her like hot pokers.

Blythe slept until dusk and woke to a neatly furnished room and a bowl of soup. It had helped her, strengthened her enough that she could stand and walk to the small, tidy bathroom and wash the sleep out of her eyes. She was so tired it took her a minute to realize that her reflection was gone when she looked in the mirror.

After her scream, they'd sent her outside, here, but not without a warning.

Kill or be killed, Miss Sullivan. Your choice.

From the way they'd said her name, it was clear there was only one right choice.

She was still tired, but it was easy enough to ignore that - her mind was almost empty of everything except putting one foot in front of the other. Blythe was good at pushing things way, compartmentalizing, and she stored the exhaustion in her bones in a neat little box in her brain, right next to the one labeled Kylar and the one she didn't want to think about.

Her reflection, or lack thereof, were in that box, along with her teeth, which didn't feel like they fit right in her mouth, Kylar's comment about her drink last night, the wounds she could still feel on her lip from William, and the ever-growing scent of blood that wafted to her on the air.

There wasn't room in that box for the boy that rounded the corner.

Blythe had always been easily captivated by a pretty smile and deep eyes, but this boy had neither. He was frail, almost, skinnier than Blythe, and his skin had the pallor of someone dying - or dead.

She had once vowed to herself that she would not judge based on appearances, but even she recoiled at this boy the way she once recoiled at herself - disgust, fear, the instinctive question of contagion.

People used to think she was sick - how else could a little girl be so huge then so tiny? In the same way, Blythe's thoughts spread to old disease. How else could such a being exist, let alone stay alive?

Her instincts told her to run, but there was nowhere for her to go. The boy blocked the street where it wasn't walled in by houses and - appropriately - a long brick wall, and the alleys that were endless before had disappeared. She was trapped underneath the open sky.

It was fitting that she would die under such unreachable beauty. She had been trying to be beautiful her whole life, and the stars were the sort of beauty that humans could only admire from afar.

But she was not human anymore.

She faced the boy, her senses tingling, her mind working overtime. The boy kept walking, his slow movements a hard contrast to Blythe's. She launched herself forwards, muscles that were already strong from years of workouts supernaturally charged, the snarl that ripped from her mouth animalistic. The boy had no chance, but he tried to fight against Blythe's attack anyways, until his arms were pinned by her knees and her hands were around his throat, and then she hesitated.

Blythe had never killed anyone before. Did she want to?

She didn't want to die herself, she knew that much.

She leaned down and bit.

A rush filled her, her heart pumping superoxygenated blood to her body, her head working overtime as she lapped the blood from the boy's neck with a moan of ecstasy.

It felt so right, she forgot it was wrong.

Her footsteps echoed now as she ran through the streets, her senses on overdrive, her teeth wet with blood. Red had never been her favorite color, but now it was all she ever wanted to see.

Another boy appeared.

She could hear his heartbeat, and she saw him turn to her as if she was his prey, too. The light cast shadows over his face, so she could not see him, but she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Although she wanted - needed - blood, she did not need to see the faces of her meals.

Blythe was not ready to see his face, especially when it was so familiar.

"Ky?" she said slowly, her footsteps slowing, her mind calming, finally able to tear her thoughts from feeding. She wasn't sure if her was real or she was simply going insane for want of food, but his slow voice confirmed er worst fears.

"Bee."

It was the most beautiful and most horrible sound in the world.

"You're here? How?"

"Same as you," he said deeply, his voice soft, his voice hard. "I didn't know."

She knew she had to tell him the truth, even if it was hard. "I wouldn't have told you. I didn't have a chance, but I wouldn't have. I didn't want us to lose us."

When he spoke again, it was nearly too quiet to hear. "I wouldn't have told you either. You don't need more hardships. I wouldn't want you to suffer."

She placed a hand on his shoulder gently. For the first time since she'd known him, he flinched. This strange affliction made him scared, but she knew he would never say it. "I can't suffer with you, Ky."

He smiled, and although Blythe was standing under an endless curtain of stars, she was certain it was more beautiful than all of them. "After everything, Bee, I'm glad you're here."

She linked her arm through his, grateful for the bits of her old world, her dress, her friend, because she knew that if parts of her humanity were here, she could always return.

The blood on her mouth said otherwise, though.

Eden Adriett Paloma

Games were never fair.

To Eden, they had always simply been another way for her siblings to triumph over her. Her sisters teamed up with each other, and her brother had his pride and ego to keep – if Eden won only once in a while, they said, she would feel much better than if they let her on easily. Frankly, it was true, yet so much more frustrating as the youngest sibling, especially since she channeled her aggravation into herself. There wasn't many times where she could win – she was always too obvious, too unbelievable, too slow.

Playing hide-and-seek, Eden wasn't typically allowed as the searcher; she was horrible at finding. Instead she often found herself crouching behind a piece of furniture, or flat on her stomach underneath a bed, or disguising among pieces of hanging clothing. She would stay until someone came, pulling her out of the spot she hid, and it always happened – not like her sisters, who could find somewhere so obscured that the seeker might have taken up to an hour to find them, or her brother, whose hiding places were hidden in plain sight.

The memories tugged at Eden's lips until they were pulled into a small, nostalgic smile, for no matter what she lost at, playing with her siblings only brought fun elsewise. They were times of fun – times that were long past, pushed over a cliff to never return; the smile diminished, her eyes becoming sullen.

She had chosen to rest in a café, locked into another game of hide-and-seek. Through the corner of a window Eden peered into the city streets, wondering where the searchers would be, when they would appear, find her. Surely, not many would think to search downtown, the way she and her sisters often excused their brother's spots.

Perhaps Eden – and the other new vampires – had been instructed to a killing spree for the span of eight hours, but she was content to sit, hidden, and wait, so much like the games she had played in her youthful past. Maybe there wasn't a winner, but if she wasn't found, Eden could feel the lingering taste of victory.

Though she hadn't put herself completely at ease; the remains of a glass were scattered around the floor of the counter, and one had found its way into Eden's hold.

It had soon became a game of waiting, the ticking sounds emitting from a clock hanging on a nearby wall – marking an hour, two, five - accompanying the silence ringing in Eden's ears. The only objects of amusement were a mural painted throughout a wall, swirling with its varying shades and hues of colours, painting images of lovely flowers and critters scampering about them, the glass which she tapped between her fingers.

Then – without any warning of sound – two battling figures appeared from another street, and Eden watched with a tingling sense of alarm. Had they found her? Would she have to fight? It wasn't until a large, bloodied body finally lay still on the edge of the concrete, and his opponent darting away, did Eden's feelings of initial fear subsided.

Yet, almost as suddenly as the other two had appeared, though an hour after, was a masculine figure, jogging towards where Eden's café was. The light of dusk was barely enough to highlight his features – dark hair, dark eyes – and Eden watched him with curious eyes, but ones slightly frightened as well. He definitely seemed fit enough to be able to take her down, and as his steps began to slow – nearing the café's entrance - Eden began to panic.

Her grip on the piece of glass was deathly, her fingers curled ever-so tightly around the ragged edges, like snakes wound around their prey. Along the shadows casted across the room Eden moved, hidden in the folds of darkness, and she came to hover by the doorframe, perched silently on her toes. Shallow breaths escaped her lips, and she felt her pulse speed with every moment that flew away, beating faster and faster in anticipation. Finally, the wooden door creaked in a quiet protest of pressure, the bell ringing.

The boy's eyes locked onto Eden's silhouette as soon as he had stepped through, but she struck before he could give it further thoughts. She plunged her makeshift weapon into an area of flesh around his throat and collarbone, twisted it, and was met with a spray of warm blood spattering her face. A shocked, agonized cry erupted from the boy as he cupped the spilling blood, though it soon morphed into anger. When Eden withdrew fleetingly – readying for a second attack – a powerful hit made contact with her left eye; she squealed as a haze of black spots decorated her vision, and he smirked as she tumbled backwards.

Her back met the hard surface of a table somewhere, put off balance when her balance was shoved away by the boy. A feeling of initial alarm that rose in her soon dwindled away as Eden felt a firm hand – stained with fresh blood, no doubt – lock around her throat, but it did not cut off her air supply, didn't do much more than bruise her throat. She met the grinning expression of the boy seemed so sure of his kill, though flickers of regret lined his face, confidence allowing her intelligence; it became a game of make-pretend as Eden gasped as if she couldn't breath, clawed feebly with her piece of glass at his grasp; the advantage would be with her.

In a swift movement, Eden kicked her boot steadily upwards, lodging her heel in the tender flesh of the boy's stomach, and shoved him away. Then she examined her chunk of glass with a frown on her face, wiping away the crimson-hued liquid dripping down it with the cloth of her shirt. The boy – Eden suddenly recalled someone calling his name beforehand; Aditya? – groaned, his posture slightly bent as he pressed a hand against his wound, the other on his stomach.

Adrenaline was coursing through Eden's veins then, a wonderful feeling of energy weaved with utter precision into her veins, and she spoke. "Really, Aditya? I had thought, oh, someone your size, maybe they'd be a bit more – hm, strong, against a girl – " She stopped in her sentence as Aditya glared at her, a piercing look that radiated anger.

But even as he lunged at her and a punch landed on her left shoulder, it was as if his adrenaline had faded somewhat, perhaps leached out like the blood from the wound continued to flow. The two were then locked into a horrible game of tag; Eden danced skittishly around the chairs and tables as Aditya grappled for more blows, stabbing him when she had him in reach. It was when Eden grabbed for a chair that she made her mistake, hefting up a velvet-seated wood chair to bring down where Aditya had been standing. He had taken her mere moment of distraction as an opportunity, tackling her legs with a prompt movement from behind, looming over her.

Aditya hissed at Eden between his heaving breaths, and blood from his first wound dripped slowly onto her pursed lips. "You did good, girlie, but I'm afraid that ends now." He gripped her wrist until her hand opened, and took her glass into his own hands.

"Really?" Eden spit at his face with a mouthful of spit and blood, "because it appears I'm not quite as afraid as you are." She mustered some strength into her right arm, squirming it free of Aditya's distracted grip and landing it solidly in a fist on his face before he could afford time to think. From his hand the glass was snatched away almost as quickly, and in a matter of seconds the roles were reversed.

Eden wavered for a moment before she brought the point of her weapon for a fatal strike, if only to whisper a few more words – "Sorry, Aditya, I guess you lose this game." Aditya was quite still the second before she plunged the glass into his heart, perhaps accepting his death or perhaps with not enough strength left to resist, but the scream that erupted was of pure agony. Eden stepped away as the boy twisted and rolled around the ground in a torment of anguish, knowing only pain as his life began to fade away. Blood pooled heavily, a seemingly endless stream which soaked into even Aditya's jacket of leather, and which Eden was careful to tread away from.

She watched as he twitched in some last spasms, soft groans making way from his mouth until Aditya was finally dead. The adrenaline that had fueled Eden's blood began to disperse itself, leaving her to collapse on a nearby plush seat, one free of blood. Perhaps she was supposed to be in a state of fear and regret – she expected it – but those feelings did not come; no, her feelings danced with a serene sense of satisfaction and contentment, but time to decipher them flitted away.

Unconsciousness began to wrap around Eden's mind as her adrenaline vanished completely, yet one thought still ran triumphantly; she had won.

Jessie "Jess" Harold

NO ENTRY

Rachel Winters

The world seemed so much more dangerous when Rachel died. The shadows that lurked about at night really were a threat and darkness—darkness seemed evermore bleak and lonely. During her life, Rachel had never feared the dark, but then she had never known what horrors lurked behind the blackness. She had been so naïve to think that she understood the world. She had taken on the filth of the earth and survived. There was nothing that could scare her, or so she thought.

Rachel shivered as she followed the man she hated most in the world despite the fact that her flesh had lost all warmth. She tugged the leather jacket she had stolen out of a car around her, holding it to her like a protection blanket. She did not understand why she continued to follow the man but then she couldn't seem to understand why she did anything since she died. "Where are we going?" Rachel yelled, skipping a few steps in an attempt to keep up.

"To important people." The man glanced behind him at Rachel, his amber eyes glowing eerily despite the lack of light.

"You know Connel, I don't know why I keep on following you."

"It's Connor and I told you that you didn't have to come." Connor continued walking, always ten steps.

Rachel scowled, making a nasty gesture at him behind his back. She paused for a minute, feeling the anger rush over her for the billionth time since she had turned. Her life could never be the same. She could never see her sister or her mother again, not in any way that counted. This man had ruined her life. All she wanted to do was to see his pretty face burning. Rachel could picture his flesh melting away, revealing the yellowed bone underneath.

Rachel resented the fact that she could not will her legs to stop following Connor. Yet he had promised her answers and she was going to get them. When they stumbled up to a shabby looking cottage on the outskirts of a small town, Rachel paused.

"I feel like going in there is a bad idea."

"Gareth is waiting to meet you." Connor threw open the door, welcoming Rachel to her new life after death.

The dinky little cottage was less then that. Inside was a single, foreboding staircase that drifted down to who knows where but a Rachel found out was a meeting room. Over a dozen new vamps as well as some others stood around the musty smelling room. It was only then that Rachel new she had walked into a trap.

***

The game had begun as soon as the newly turned entered the land above. The small town felt as though it had been abandoned. Only the occasional light in an upstairs window gave any indication that the ghost town had life in it. The cobblestone roads and brick sidewalks gave the place a very antique feel to it. The moon reflected off of the paint of the buildings giving off an eerie glow.

The man they called Gareth stepped forward, looking at each of us in turn before speaking. "Each of you have been chosen for a specific task, one that in the coming days we will see if you are qualified for the honor. The rules are simple, you may not kill anyone who is not a newly turned vampire. You may not enter anyone's house. The streets are free game. The fight will last eight hours. I only have this advice for you: kill or be killed."

As he moved out of the way a scream echoed through the city, startling a few critters out of their hiding spots and probably a soul to their final destination.

Rachel moved quickly, attempting to get out of whatever was happening. Although Gareth was very cryptic in what was happening right now, she was pretty sure what was happening was going to be a bloodbath. Not that much blood would flow now. None of anything that was happening made any sense to her. She could not seem to grasl the concept of living in the shadows, forever alive yet forever hidden.

Rachel knew almost nothing about her new state, yet she knew enough that her body no longer resembled the kind she had studied in biology classes. Her skin had lost it's color and her eyes looked like blue orbs in dim light. She could smell the blood flowing through the veins of the cowering citizens in the town. She could hear their hearts pound frantically as they hid under their covers. She could run now, she could run faster then ever before, faster then humanely possible.

After a few minutes of the wind whipping through her hair she was stopped in her tracks by a snarling monster.

He pounced on her, his dark eyes tinged red in the reflection of the rust that surrounded them. The pair fell to the ground, with Rachel's assailant landing on top of her. Her head pounded in an attempt to recover. His fangs ripped out of his gums like a volcanic eruption, ready to tear her apart. With a quick movement she plunged her elbow into his stomach, a move hard to accomplish in such close proximity. With the surprise still written across his face, Rachel kicked him hard in the privates, hoping that sensitivity in that spot was not gone with the transformation. The imapct pushed the man back hard, giving Rachel the opportunity to stand up.

With them both on their feet, the man lunged again and this time Rachel was ready. She swung her arm out, wrapping ot around his neck and leaping onto his back. He jerked in an attempt to throw her off, causing her balance to be thrown. Still, she held on and when he moved again she swung her legs around his neck, pulling him to the ground.

Now with the upper hand, Rachel scanned her surroundings, reaching for a fence post that had probably snapped during a storm. She knew vampire lore enough to know that by stabbing them through the heart would kill one. She did not know if it would work, but understood the odds of her survival if it failed. Twisting the stake around in her hand, Rachel plunged it into the vampire's heart. It was only then that the flailing man stilled.

Rachel's adrenaline, if that was what you could call it, pulsed, making her feel alive again for the first time in days. She stared at the body for a minute, feeling remorse for what she had done. "It was you or me," she muttered to herself.

Rachel took off running again, past the general store and the dentists office. She only paused when she heard the sound of scuffling.

Rachel turned into the darkness of an alley, her enhanced senses allowing her to see as well as a cat. A vampire had taken refuge in the alley.

"Please don't kill me!" The man placed his hands up, much like several of her targets had when she found them doing something illegal. His pleading caught Rachel off guard. She looked over the cowering figure, hiding in the shadows of the corner of the alley. If one were to think of the LARP players in the park and then multiplied it by ten that is what he looked like. He looked harmless, but then, Rachel knew that even the most innocent looking child could do incredible damage, especially if they had teeth.

"What's your name?" Rachel took a cautious step closer on her toes, ready to jump back if needed. Since the other vampire had attacked her, she had expected this one to do so as well. She cocked her head and smirked, a habit that she had formed several years ago.

"Calvin—Cal, Cal Popovich." The man shifted on his heels, shifting some rumble underneath him.

"Cal Poopovich?" Rachel snorted as she said his name. "What an unfortunate last name."

Cal didn't say anything, instead his illuminated eyes attempted to bore into Rachel's.

"Fine, I won't kill you."

The moment Rachel said the words, the vampire's body relaxed. If he could breathe, his sigh would have been heard throughout the small town.

"Great! I—"

"I won't kill you. But you will come with me. I think that having two people in this fight working together is better than one." Rachel held out her hand, ready to help him up.

Cal searched her eyes, as though attempting to read her mind. He reached out his hand, his grasp not as firm as Rachel expected it to be. With one swift movement Rachel pulled the man up. His eyebrows rose in surprise at her strength, pulling him farther forward then he wanted.

"Have you?" Cal began but then stopped before finishing his thought.

"Have I?" Rachel turned, walking out of the alleyway, her enhanced senses listening for the thumps of the footsteps that would indicate him following her.

"Have you killed a vamp yet?" Cal began following her, jogging a little to keep up.

Rachel laughed—partly to calm her nerves and because she was going insane. None of her life made any sense anymore. She had killed a human being without even thinking about it only a few short days ago. "What do you think?"

Then she turned and ran, following the smell of death to her next fight.

Gunnora Elandine

NO ENTRY

Adira Fuerte

  Kill or be killed.

When they were humans, death had been inevitable–a thing that could never be avoided. Whether one's eighty or twenty, it could come knocking at a doorstep with a scythe and a rope ready to drag him down. But now, they weren't humans anymore–they were vampires, and death was finally something that they could avoid. However as the whole city had shifted itself into a prisoner's playground, it was now a game–a survival of the fittest.

And Adira Fuerte would do anything to win.

Eight hours–the leader, Gareth had said. It was eight hours to kill and eight hours to survive.

Blood.

That was all it took for Adira to growl lowly, licking her smudged lips. Her hair had been a large frizz with strands standing out like a lion's mane–she was more dangerous however. Because this time, she wouldn't give them mercy...every single one of them would face her wrath.

She took a moment to scan her surroundings from the clock tower. Improved eyesight had made her see even the light shadows etched around the corners and the small birds flying out in the opening, sensing the danger that was about to come. There were other vampires lurking around them, hidden in the darkness a place where they were ought to be. They were all avoiding death, all avoiding the hooded man with a scythe or perhaps a red-eyed monster with claws and teeth that could shred into their very souls.

Adira smirked when a light flickered up and down, glinting into the large golden bell beside her.

The first hour had begun.

The vampire jumped.

Adrenaline, if she had any, pumped into her poisonous veins as the wind started to pick up. The twenty-one-year-old loved this, love the way her hair shot up as the wind splashed her face like cold water, love the way her feet waved in the air kicking the cement to get more stability, and especially the way she dropped to the ground like a feline, eyes glowing through the night.

Footsteps.

It was faint but quick and unstable. Like ones of a child's... Adira furrowed her eyebrows, her interest peaking as she took another step in the direction of the sound. Was there a child who was turned?

"I can't do it, can't kill..."

No.

Adira furrowed her eyebrows.

The voice was from a woman's not of a child's.

And it's getting louder.

Could I kill out of cold blood?

Could I snap one's neck like I have done with the older vampire?

I'm a monster.

A monster...

They never helped me.

"I can't do it, can't kill them..."

Adira stepped out of the shadows and could see a small light reflecting the light cheeks of the woman. She didn't know her, but she didn't have to. Monsters didn't need to know their victims–all they need was their struggles and screams. "I can," she smirked and her fingers grabbed the brunette's neck and pushed her into the wall, letting the little rubble grate her back painfully. The woman screamed, legs trashing around but not once hitting her as if she didn't had any control of them. "Good bye."

She didn't look into the woman's eyes, however.

No matter how much Adira tried to look at her, she found herself turning the other way, her own heart twisting uncomfortably.

This wasn't the time for hesitations, Adira reassured herself and the grip tightened again.

None of them would've helped me.

Everyone would've just stared in disbelief.

They are all monsters.

A hand shot through the woman's chest, claws severing her veins and muscles. She could smell the blood...it wasn't appetizing but satisfying. With that, Adira twisted and pulled the heart from her and the woman dropped to the ground, dead once again. A pool of black blood surrounded the woman and Adira can finally look at her eyes–they were chocolate brown, and they were lifeless just like her own.

Adira's lips twisted into a smirk and she ran with the wind as fast as her legs could take her.

They all deserve to die.

And she could hear them–hear the screams of terror and the cries for help. They were eerie; a sound that caused shivers to shot through her spine and the hairs at the back of her neck to stand up, but Adira continued to shake it off.

One way or another, they deserve it.

They all did.

As the third hour had reached its course, Adira could see her next victim. Creeping into the shadows was a man with dirty blonde hair and a muscular structure. He was still wearing a varsity jacket with sleeves ripped apart showing more of his muscled arms. There was blood in his fingertips and his body shook as if he was going into seizure. Another minute and a sob broke lose, he cried and Adira knew it was time to strike.

She sped up to him, but when she touched his bloodied and worn jacket, he whirled around and grabbed her arm, pushing her to the side. "I have had enough of you," he snarled. "I hate this. They all continue to watch us as if we were entertainment. I've killed two and I don't want to do this anymore."

His eyes...they were wild and disoriented. They glanced from one direction to the next. His hands spread up to the air and he waved them exasperatedly. "Kill me," he commanded, taking a step forward as she took a step back. He ran towards her till his spit splattered on her nose. "Kill me...Just kill me already–"

And the man dropped dead to the ground with no limbs to spare but a head just tilting on a ground like a molded statue.

Fifth hour had strike and the screams had died down.

It seemed that the killers were already too preoccupied in killing rather than making their victims feel pain.

Adira couldn't help but agree with them.

She already had four victims who died because of her bloody hands. The first three ones had been quick yet painful, but the last one had just been a ripped head–the easiest and most painless way to die...at least that was what she thought seeing as the victim hadn't even screamed in terror or pain.

As Adira walked through the sidewalk she could see blood splatters and limbs littered around the concrete and a part of her wanted to hurl.

There was a rustle in the bushes.

She turned.

The rustle grew louder and a cough sounded.

"Please don't hurt me."

It was a woman's voice. It was cracked and rough as if she had screamed for days and was left with no voice to shout anymore. A perfect victim. The idiotic woman also had to step out into the shadows–hair frizzy and cheeks marred with dirt and blood. She was just about her age, but there was a sense of innocence in her eyes–ones that Adira never had.

"Too late for that," Adira snarled and raced towards her, fangs ready to rip apart when she yelled the words that made her stop on her tracks, eyes wide.

"Stop! Please."

Adira Fuerte didn't know what had gone through her. It might be the most familiar words that shot through her mind that made her walk away and hide in the corners of the town. She couldn't kill the blonde...not when she said those words and most definitely not when she almost looked so desperate for someone to save her–someone to take her out of this hell hole...just like how Adira once was.

They are all monsters.

Adira told herself again and again as the seventh hour strike. No victims had fallen into her grasp again nor did the blonde female who told her to stop.

But did they all deserve to die for it?

Had they really deserve to get their hearts ripped apart from their body or their head separated from his shoulders?

Even when the eighth hour had come to an end and every survivor crept out of the shadows in pride, Adira Fuerte had yet to find out.

Jane Bruno

Hours could have passed. Days, even. Jane wasn't quite certain when it was that she realized she was awake, only that time had passed enough that her cognitive functions had suddenly became sharp. Every sense was heightened as she lay on the ground, her eyes closed, her breathing slowed, yet she seemed awake in every from of the word. It was as though only her physical body were resting and she herself needed not the sleep that her body craved. Thoughts coiled and wound, touching through to the outside world, making several startling revelations.

The first was that what happened the night prior was not a dream. It was too clear, too sharp, to be anything close to the hazy or even lucid dreams of the past. No, something real, something strange, and something unknown had happened the night prior. It ate away at her bones like daylight driving into darkness, killing everything in sight yet leaving the barest shadows behind as it went. Reality suddenly seemed so much more imaginary than the dreams that once had plagued her and the nightmares that spared life as it was.

Easily, the wind blew at her body, tugging her forward, yet leaving her there. Her shirt billowed as it picked up, cooling her body and leaving chills along her bare back. While her bra remained fully functional, it seemed to have rested weird, and she spared the slumber of her body to move slightly to the left, allowing it once again to cover her chest as the wind continued.

Wet dew splattered her body as though she'd become one with the ground. Jane was the green grass in varying shades—some parts of her more yellowed, while others took on brown undertones, all varying with the concept of a green that would not die until the sun refused to shine or the rain refused to fall.

Jane wasn't looking forward to actually waking up and moving, yet a hunger pulled and tugged inside of her. What she wouldn't do for a steak, nice and juicy, to sink her teeth into. The thought of ripping something open sent a chill through her—something deep. Much darker than anything that she'd ever felt before. It was primitive. A carnal desire that couldn't be satisfied until she'd fed. While it wasn't voiced in thought, Jane knew that it was there, hiding just beneath the surface, ready to pop out and expose her very being.

The second was that she felt no wound, only the throb. It grew and tickled and she could hear something inside her. A voice that wasn't her own. A command she had not given.

And it told her to kill.

The third was that the blush upon her cheeks felt all too real, and her pulse was faster than it had ever been before. A fever had settled in during the night. I've been outside all night. Fuck! I've been outside all night. What time is it? Has my alarm gone off? I need to get up.

She did not get up.

I need to get up.

No movement came from her.

Fuck it. I'll call in sick, I have to have a fever. Monica is just going to have to have someone else take her to the store or whatever. Thoughts of their conversation seemed dull, like it never actually took place.God, I could use a drink. A big shot of whisky and vodka, maybe even some coke as a chaser. Anything to really shoot her up and make the tingles better. Despite having drunk only a little it felt as though she had a hang over thirty times worse than normal.

A basin of water sloshing around had become her head. Without even moving she could feel the tension pooling up, like someone had tapped the water and created rings that throbbed with every ounce of pain. Her neck was cooled and yet not. The two wounds were sealed up, the blood set on them last having crusted over entirely and created a type of super scab. Without even opening her eyes she knew that it'd be a long time before the wound ever healed properly. Scarring was inevitable.

Still, she stayed upon the ground, not willing herself to rise. Movements meant trying, perhaps a bit more than what she could honestly bring herself to handle. Pain was a beast that would not be tamed by staying still or getting up. Though the throb had cooled, one might say, it was there, pulsating throughout her body, all leading back to her neck. Every bit of skin involved felt like ice that had been set on fire. It defied logic and sound as it went, moving like a snake underneath the skin, ready to burst forth but not until the pain had reached the max.

The max was yet to come.

Something drew inside until she did rise, not thinking, not willing anything, just there, awaiting the beginning of a new day to rise over her in its subtle manner. One second it'd been ten am, and the next it was six, the day over, her body tired, everything falling. Day had risen and Day rose with it. Yet when she got inside it was only nine fifteen—not six pm, with the sun behind her, but early on with the sun still rising into the sky. It was like an entire day had passed with her there yet nothing had truly changed.

The wound was but a nuisance as she closed and latched the door behind her, leaning into the kitchen counters with a sigh before getting out a package of bacon and heating them up in the microwave. As they cooked she walked over to the fish tank, her body feeling automatic, as though a robot had taken over. It was almost nice, how easy everything seemed. Killer was fed, her bacon beeped and she got it out, everything was simple.

Five slices in and the hunger hadn't subsided. Something felt queer inside her body, like a jiggle that wasn't actually there. Weird. Jane yawned, no desire to sleep left in her. Sudden bursts of energy came and went, leaving her in a constant state of unease, yet it was something nice compared to the simplicity of the ground, which offered neither true piece or true uncomfortable pain. I wonder if I should call in, or if by now they know I won't be coming in today. Her boss, always one to understand things, rarely questioned Jane on the days she took off. Given how often she stayed late, and how few she ever took off, it just seemed easier on everyone's part to let her be at times. Still, never being one to just allow herself an easy day, she struggled through the pain of dressing herself up and finding just the right shirt to hide the bite marks before going back into the kitchen, warming up another plate of bacon, and punching the numbers into her phone.

Ring, ring, dingle-ling, take me a bucket, out by the spring...a lake, a deer, a little doe, following the path like always tho...Little rhymes came and went, her thoughts feeling light and airy. Like a drug had entered her system.

The second plate of bacon went faster than the first. Hunger, true and raw, burned inside of her, aching away at everything. It was real and yet it wasn't.

By the time she'd made it into work, her boss was waiting with crossed arms. "Rough night?" she asked, giving Jane no hint of a smile.

"I was attacked, and passed out behind my house. No time to call it in this morning, figured I'd file a report when I got here," Jane explained. She rubbed the wound on her neck, which had been covered by a measly band-aid and scarf. "I'm guessing I'll be working papers today?"

Her boss sighed, and then waved her hands. "No, not today. Fill out a report and then I need you on duty. We've already had several calls of disturbance today and I need every hand I can get. Copies of your tasks are set up at your desk."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and Jane?"

Without batting an eye, Jane recited the exact words that everyone late got told. "Don't miss a single minute again or I'm fired?" she asked, smiling some. "I know. I'll try and call in next time I'm mugged outside my house."

"Did they steal anything?"

"No, poor choice of words, sorry sir. I was attacked, roughly, and..." Jane sighed, knowing that she'd have to explain it eventually. "They had some good fake vampire teeth attached and they bit into my neck, drawing blood."

Her boss sighed, running a hand through her porcelain blonde hair.

"I know, it sounds crazy-"

"Normally, it would. But—well, I guess you'll find out when you get to your desk," she said. "Remember to fill out that report!"

Jane nodded.

***

Eight pieces of paper and two assignments later, Jane was out in her police car with her police uniform, her gun neatly placed at her side as she went down Davidson and into Johnathan Park Avenue, where three people had called in about some hooligans dressed in all black parading around, scaring everyone.

What a drag, she thought, I always get the weird shit. Serves me right. Okay, woman up, Jane. We'll get through this, finish filing our papers tonight, and go home happy. No pressure.

There wasn't any pressure. Or, at least, none that Jane could honestly feel. She always felt at home doing her job, like a piece of her that had been missing was filled in.

Turning onto the avenue, though, Jane immediately noticed the problem. A teenager, perhaps, or a young adult, was walking around with his hood up and his hands slouched into his pockets. The way he walked told her everything—he was something bad, someone that wanted to be feared, and a punk. What a dumbass. This will be easy. She pulled up alongside the curb and got out of her vehicle, hand beside her gun as she went, careful not to look too cautious.

"Sir? May I have a word with you?"

He ignored her and kept walking.

"Excuse me, I really need some information," she said, jogging a bit to catch up to him. Despite the fact that he was walking, the boy seemed to be going very fast, as though he was out of time with everyone else. Just shoot him and kill him now. He probably deserves it. What the fuck? No. No! Don't think that. Fuck. The internal problem soon became external as he rounded a corner and turned onto another road. Cursing herself further, Jane picked up her pace to follow him. "Hey! Get back here, in the name of the law!"

There were more people on that road, and as he stopped, there seemed to be something sly about him. He turned around, his blue eyes flashing underneath the hood as he pulled it off, slowly. What is this, a bad strip show?

Without warning, he reached out, grabbing a young girl right off the street. No words were spoken but Jane reached out and unclasped her gun, keeping it within a second's reach. "Put her down, or I'll shoot!"

He laughed. His voice was chilling, like a devil screaming into the night with glee. Something about it was beyond words. Inside, she could feel the same laugh within herself, vibrating throughout her soul. Kill him.

Before anything could be done, she clicked a button on the side of her jacket. Backup. They'll be here soon.

"Freeze!" Jane shouted, holding up her gun with steadied hands. "Don't move! Raise your hands in the ai-"

Those willing to kill hold no reason within them. Jane knew that. She'd known it her entire life. Kill him.The same reason was burning inside her and yet she ignored it, following the law to the best of her ability. Don't do anything rash. Think, think...fuck, he's biting them!

With a scream, she fired off two rounds—one into his head, and the other into his chest. He fell, then slowly began to stand back up, the bullet falling right out of his chest with a plop. The other, stuck to his forehead, began to pulsate as he turned to look at her, face bloodied. As the innocent citizen fell Jane did as well, her body shaking, her mind collapsing, as she realized that the backup she'd called for earlier wouldn't be enough.

It would take a monster to kill the thing before her.

It has to die. I'll rip his throat out. Jane shuddered at her own thoughts, gripping tighter to her gun as she tried to steady herself once more. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to-"

He laughed.

Bang!

Another bullet pushed itself out of his chest and Jane screamed a little again, feeling the power she held drain by the second. Everything seemed so crazy. Oh shit, oh shit! He took a step towards her, ignoring the dead girl on the ground. Her blonde hair was splayed out in tangles as it mixed with the blood draining from her body. A hand gently raised to Jane's neck as she tried to remain calm, holding the gun with her left as the right felt against where her attacker had bitten her the night prior.

Bang!

It throbbed, the bite wound, and seemed to burn underneath her very fingers. This...this isn't happening. This can't be happening. This isn't real.

"Bruno?"

Jane swiveled around, her eyes widening as she realized who it was that had called her name. Eugene. Fuck, Eugene! "Quick, get out of here!" she shouted to him, turning back around to keep her aim on the slowly progressing vampire. Vampires aren't even real...what the hell is this?

Kill him.

Kill them all, drain them, drink their blood.

Eugene seemed to hear the voice too, that instinct that drew something inside that couldn't, wouldn't, be tamed by anything easy. He moved closer to her, speeding up until he was next to her. Jane didn't blink. She didn't move to look at him. All her focus was on the bad guy—the one who'd already killed once. If she acted too soon, he could get away...but one second late, and someone else might die too. His voice whispered into her ear, each word sounding less and less like the Eugene she knew from the bar. This wasn't the guy who forced her to stop drinking and leave at the end of the night, or the sassy bar tender who knew what to say like he got paid for it. No, this was a man she'd never met before.

"Kill him," he whispered to her, his voice egging on what she felt inside her. "Bite into his skin the way he did to that girl...drain his blood. You'll like it." An arm came to rest upon the square of her back, pushing her just slightly. "It's okay. Just do it."

Jane shivered, her eyes closing for a brief second, the image of that filling her mind. It was tantalizing, something she knew she shouldn't want but couldn't get out of her mind. No...I can't.

Kill him. Mm...his blood...I can smell it from here.

Bang!

This one hit into his neck, releasing a stream of blood. Despite being five feet away, some of it shot out towards her. It touched her. It coated her. And the bullet hit the asphalt behind him, she squeezed her eyes shut and allowed the sensation to overtake her.

Blood squirted into her mouth.

Oh shit.

Without thinking, a hand raised to her lips and she touched the blood, then licked more of it off. Her eyes closed and her body screamed 'yes!' as she bowed before the dead monster, their body growing cold rapidly as she began to bite. It's better than coffee. The teeth that had pained her so much struck into the skin, like razors digging deep before going back into her mouth, allowing her to suck from the open wound.

Oh fucking hell. This is delicious.

No thoughts of wrong went through her mind, yet deep inside she knew that she'd regret this very action. Drinking from the man she'd killed for doing that to a human. A vampire. A curse. That's what he was, and that's what she was becoming. Something dangerous. Something dark. Something...not me.

It was a scream of injustice, a worthy fight between oneself and darkness, that pulled her away. It was her own scream, billowing out of her mouth and into the night, that drew her away, far away. Stumbling back, her body hit the ground roughly, bits of skin peeling off without even the slightest hint of red on her body. It was as though she'd suddenly gained extra layers of skin. Or like I've got less blood than before. Or...I had less blood...I think I've gained it now. Her body shuddered, stomach reeling at that thought.

He was still there, his body curled up, everything that once lived dead inside him. Jane looked up, tears falling onto her cheeks as she saw Eugene once more. He looked so happy, so...different.

"I told you that you'd like it," he whispered.

Jane merely looked up at him, her face a grim whisper of defeat.

Amelia "Amy" Linox

Amelia was never fond of blood. It was sickly and tasted of copper. Amelia shuddered at the thought. It had always made Amelia sick, but now Amelia craved it. She felt thirsty, but it burned.

Amelia stood in the dark, her eyes searching frantically. She caught glimpses of other people. Male or female, they all looked the same. Ivory white and crimson red eyes, they glided across the pavment as Amelia drifted over a body. He lay dead as Amelia stole his blood.

Bam!

Amelia was shoved aside and shadows crouded the body. They hissed at eachother and pushed, snapping at the others hand.

Amelia frowned, one swiftly turned around. Her luscious blonde hair flowed down to her ribs. Her eyes swooped across Amelia, taking in every detail.

"You? Girl, what is your name?" Her voice flowed confidence. Every step she took showed pride and stregnth.

"A-amelia" She choked out. My breath was ragged and Amelia began to shiver.

The girl grinned, "Aditya, come one. Look" she tapped the other shadow's shoulder and pointed at Amelia.

Amelia stood, her eyes glared. "What do you want with me?"

The male turned and grimanced. "Jeez, Adira you coudl've found someone with more muscle" He replied, walking forward and gripping onto her arm.

"No you dumbass! She not a human, she is a vampire. Like us" The girl, Amelia guessed was called Adira snapped, shoving the male away.

Amelia jumped back, "Stay away from me" I growled, lifting my hands up.

The two laughed. "Sweetie, your a vampire" Adira replied.

Amelia shuddered, "N-no i'm not! S-stay away!" She shouted.

Adira and the male shared quizzal glances and then laughed again.

"You delirious" Adira laughed, "we'll be good friends" She ran swiftly ahead of the male and Amelia. "Hurry up" She called and turned around facing them.

The male grabbed my hand and pulled me along, "jeez, your slow for a vampire" he laughed and ran toward Adira.

When they arrived Adira pointed at another shadow, it stood tall. With a lanky body and white blonde hair.

"You see him?" Adira asked, "Get him."

Amelia nodded with confusion. She crounched and growled. Her eyes trailing across the shadow. She hissed and leaped. Landing squarely on his back, she bit into his neck and let the red flow down her cheeks.

She grinned, it tasted good. She let the boy drop and she sighed. The flavour dissappeared. Amelia slowly walked back to the two.

Adira laughed, she patted my back. "Lets get you some more food".

Zoe Katsaros

The little snake did as the darkness commanded. For a moment, she saw nothing as darkness flooded through her veins, making of the world an endless night.

Then, when the moon and stars reemerged, the little snake felt the power of shadows singing within her. As she looked to her sides she saw wings, broad and lovely, etched out under the silver light.

The night rang with her cries of joy.

~*~

It's amazing what you can tell from the sound of a single footfall.

I sat bolt upright in bed as a floorboard squeaked in Leah's living room. Oddly enough, my heart wasn't pounding; I wondered vaguely if it was even capable of racing the way it once did.

It had only been three days since she had brought me to her home far from the lights and fury of Washington, but I had managed to elicit three facts from my surroundings. The first: Leah's impossibly swift passage never made a sound, no matter how quickly she traveled or how treacherously loud her destination. I couldn't be sure if this was a skill all vampires had mastered, or if it was unique to her.

Someone or something had made a squeak. Therefore, it could not be Leah.

I checked the window— the moon was high, and the silent darkness had swallowed twilight entirely. I smiled grimly.

The second fact: No human in this city stayed out after dark. The place had one of the lowest nocturnal crime rates on the planet.

The third fact: the second fact was because of a vampire clan that, while dwindling, was decidedly unfriendly to Leah.

It didn't take incredible deductive skills for me to conclude that, whoever was behind the door, I should probably try to kill them.

I instinctively reached to my right, where my wheelchair would normally be waiting. I frowned to find the space empty before I remembered where I was, and that my first act as a newly turned vampire was to tear the damned thing apart and throw its pieces into the Potomac.

I stood, absently enjoying the thrill of sensation as my feet hit the ground. It wasn't that the chair's absence hurt exactly— I had dreamed of getting rid of the thing ever since the day I had discovered it was my prison. Nonetheless, the space where it used to be niggled at me in a way I found difficult to describe, the way my mother would reach up to adjust her glasses even after laser eye surgery. I wondered how long it would take for me to finally return to normal.

A vampire returning to normal. The paradox almost made me laugh aloud.

The door to my bedroom squeaked open, revealing a figure in the gloomy hallway just outside. They probably thought I was asleep.

They were very, very wrong.

I hit the door with all of my newfound, considerable strength. It exploded outward, tearing off its hinges and flying out of the doorframe. The dark figure was trapped between my improvised projectile and the wall; the pressure pinned them against the boards with a very satisfying impact.

I stepped through the ruined frame with a bright, cheerful smile. The figure, revealed to be male in the pale moonlight, pushed the door away and groaned. I stepped up to him and gripped him by the throat with one arm, pinning him against the wall once more hoisting him up a foot or so, until his feet dangled uselessly above the floor.

"Hi!" I said, not letting the grin diminish in the slightest. "I think there's been something of a misunderstanding. If you were hoping to audition for the role of Catwoman, the studio is next door."

The man choked and wriggled. Typical. My best lines were wasted on those too oxygen-deprived to appreciate them.

"Now, we have a question to address. Should I kill you now? I'm pretty sure I could, what with the super-strength and all, but Leah might want to ask you a few questions before she feeds you your own spine. She has this thing where she hates people breaking into her house. A bit hypocritical, but—"

The man managed to break my hold and send me stumbling back into the opposite wall. He slid to his feet, rubbing his throat with one hand. I eyed him warily

"Rumors of your strength were not exaggerated, it would seem," he said eventually. "I should have been more cautious."

I examined him, inhumanly sharp vision picking out his features in the moonlight. He was handsome enough, I supposed, though he lacked Leah's eye-watering sort of loveliness. He looked to be in his early thirties, though that meant nothing for vampires. He could have been twenty-five or two hundred. Thick dark hair was cut short, and he seemed to have the kind of perma-stubble that men thought made them look irresistible.

"I think you should leave before my..." What was the term? Mother? Progenitor? "...patron gets back. Sadly, she has never had my gentle nature and sense of humor."

"She's not coming, Miss Katsaros. The Leanansidhe has left town for quite a while; she knows well enough not to meddle in affairs of the Clan. My name is Gareth. If you place any value on your life, you will do as I instruct." My eyes narrowed, and I took a step forward.

"Okay, buddy. Let's get something straight. I don't know you from Adam. More than that, you were trying to sneak into my bedroom, which I believe is somewhat rude even in this country. I don't take kindly to threats, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty damn stro—"

He grabbed my reaching arm with jittery speed and flipped me hard onto my back. The air rushed out of my lungs on the impact.

"You are, in fact, damn strong. You are also quite young. I am here to tell you that you will die tonight unless you manage to kill a newly turned vampire. Coincidentally, this vampire will be doing their best to kill you. I simply thought you ought to know; you see, a certain individual matching this description happens to be rather close by. They scented you earlier. They know how to find you. And shortly their patience will run out."

I lay still on the ground, mind racing. "Where are they?" I asked in a low voice. He smiled thinly at me.

"Outside your house on the sidewalk. Good luck, Miss Katsaros."

He stood and left, turning the corner and moving surely towards the door. I found it very interesting that this time he didn't make a sound.

I stayed in place for a moment before moving as silently as possible to the kitchen. I peered out of the window; sure enough, there was a figure, female and unmoving, looking up at the house.

I smiled down at her. Then I jumped through the window.

The sound of shattering glass seemed to startle her— she flinched and cried out as I landed heavily with the force of a second-story drop. My hands found her chin. I pulled.

A fourth fact: Vampire heads are easy enough to remove with vampire strength.

A fifth: It's somewhat pleasant to listen to blood raining with enhanced hearing.

Thea Leone

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Aditya Patil 

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*

Due to current problems with schedules, we cannot give an estimate of when scores will be posted. However, it will more than likely not be an unreasonable amount of time.