Hunter and Hunted

“Do you people never learn?”

The hunter whirled around, crucifix held out protectively in front of him – as a precaution, of course, because this particular Creature of the Night had been well and truly staked, and therefore…really should not have been standing right in front of him wearing a rather aggrieved expression and gesturing to the large bloodstain on his coat.

Which was, however, precisely what he was doing.

The hunter stared.

The vampire stared back, steadfastly refusing to become any less inconveniently alive.

The hunter cleared his throat. “Um.”

“I said, do you people never learn?” The undead rolled his eye, attempting to pull the edges of the hole in his waistcoat together. “That’s the third time I’ve been staked this year, and it’s starting to get more than a little infuriating. And I fail to see how that-” he waved a hand towards the crucifix “-is supposed to have the slightest effect on me.”

Shaken, the hunter reached into his pocket for his flask of Holy Water. That would work. It had-

“Had t’be a fuckin’ teetotaler, didn’t y’?”

He whirled back around – only to see the other vampire, the one he was sure he’d killed, leaning against a pillar, holding his Holy Water flask. And, by the look of it, having just taken a sizeable drink from it.

“Y-you…I..,” the hunter began, and then stopped, having completely run out of words. “Um,” he ventured, eventually.

“Y’picked a sixdamn fool this time,” the Son of Darkness holding the flask opined, tossing the offending article carelessly over his shoulder.

“An obsessive fool,” his companion corrected, moving closer to the petrified human. “And I didn’t pick him. As a matter of fact, he picked us.”

“How d’y’mean?”

“I mean that he’s been following us for the last six months.”

The vampire with the rougher accent laughed, also stepping closer to the hunter. “You et one of his relatives? I et one of his relatives?”

“Not as far as I’m aware.”

“So why th’-?”

The Creature of the Night smiled a little.  “Because, as I said, he’s an obsessive fool. He also thinks we’re evil.” He paused, apparently lost in though, then added “Of course, it’s possible he’s right. I certainly gave up being ‘good’ some years ago, and you-”

“Never were, ain’t ever goin’ t’be, we goin’ t’kill him or not?”

The hunter clenched his fists, looking around hopelessly for a way out.

There did not appear to be one.

What there were were two not-vampires, both smiling in a way which made the sharpness of their teeth abundantly clear.

The hunter finally found his voice. “Demons!”

There was a blur of movement, and he found his back suddenly pressed against something warm and solid.

“We ain’t demons,” said a voice, very close to his ear.

“We’re worse.”

Copyright © 2018 by Finn McLellan.  All rights reserved.

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