The Hunter and the Vampire

“What the hell happened to you?” Harper cried, rushing over to help me sit down. “I’m fine,” I sighed, waving a lazy hand through the air. My eye stung, but it was a relief to be home.  “You don’t look fine, Cals,” Harper muttered, gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. His dark brown skin had a strange pallor to it, as though the blood had disappeared from his face.  I settled closer to him on the sofa, running my fingers across his short, textured hair. His dark eyes watched me worriedly, darting between the sharp line of the cut and my tired gaze. “You’re sweet,” I murmured, letting my head sink against the warm expanse of his chest.  My cheek brushed against the tight knit of his worn jumper, and I smiled to myself. He’d worn this same jumper on our first date, saying that he wanted me to see him at his worst, st

Careful not to disturb the body, we swung into action. My Dad pulled out an on-the-go first aid kit from his thigh pouch, and my Paps checked for a pulse while I hovered above her mouth, listening for any signs of breathing. Her hair was wet, straggly, plastered to her sallow face. Her cheekbones stuck out, gaunt, and there were ugly, deep-set bruises filling her eye sockets. I didn’t have a second to feel anything for her: no pity, no sadness, no repulsion. I had a job to do, and, as we worked to revive her, I did feel a tiny swell of pride at our quick response, and at our flawless teamwork. I squashed it down as soon as it arose; there was no time to feel pride, not when there was a life on the line. Her lips were blue. She started to shudder, my Dad slamming his hands onto her chest behind me. Her head bounced, rolling onto one side, and my eyes narrowed in on a large bite mark scraped across her exposed neck. It was dark

I heard Grace gasp beside me, but I couldn’t draw my eyes away from him to check on her. The coffee jug felt too hard against my palm, and I realised distantly that I was gripping onto it with all my strength. “I don’t recognise you,” I said, a little playfully, something flirtatious slipping into my tone. I’d not heard that quality in my own voice in years, not since before I’d met Harper. “You aren’t from around here?” I asked. He laid down his paper, leaning forward and propping his head up on his hands. His face could have been chiselled from white marble, smooth and sleek beneath his tousled almost-black hair. I let my gaze wander up his face slowly, taking in the elegant, arrogant curve of his sensual upper lip, the hard, sharp lines of his jaw, the faint brush of stubble covering his cheeks and chin, and the perfectly straight line of his nose.  But it was

I smoothed down the front of my blouse. It was neat and crisp, freshly ironed, but I needed something to do with my hands. I tucked my necklace under my collar, only to pull it out again moments later. It wasn’t like me to feel this nervous, this pressured. Then again, I hadn’t been feeling much like myself lately at all. I was stood on the high street, dithering outside the coffee shop. Waypavers, the wooden sign creaked overhead, swinging blithely to-and-fro in the cold breeze. To meet here had been my suggestion – it was my favourite coffee shop, after all, it had made sense to recommend it – but now, standing by the doorway, peering in, I regretted saying we should meet here. The writhing pit my stomach churned again, its vigour increasing with each passing second. I was early, albeit not by much, and I was beginning to wonder if agreeing to meet Cyrus had been a good idea, after all. 

“It doesn’t make any sense,” I said, cracking my knuckles. I needed something to do with my hands.  My Paps shrugged, and then gave me a friendly nudge with his elbow. “Think about it, Cals. She could’ve talked.” “So you think they just took her?” I frowned, digging the toe of my boot against the floorboards. We were gathered in one of our favourite meeting spots – the town hall. Most of the time we hired it for training sessions, under the guise of martial arts lessons or dance practice, but it was also a useful meeting place for important discussions. If it was something small, we’d squeeze into one of our houses, but Bethan’s disappearance called for something a little bigger. All of the Seafall District hunters were present, hovering around the edge of the room and waiting for the meeting to officially start. Beau, a lean blac