Warnings: slight gore

I grip the stake, its familiar coarse wood chafing the leather glove protecting my hand. The warm, coppery stench of blood hangs in the chilly winter air like a suffocating fog as I stealthily walk toward the lying corpse.

And as much as I hate to say it, I'm used to seeing this shit by now.

Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

The full moon streams through the dark forest trees, their bare branches devoid of life, illuminating the bloody sight before me. The person's entire backside is eaten to the bare bone, with no remaining organs or guts inside.

I turn them over. Their entire front is exposed under the torn, thin shirt, revealing a tattoo just below their right breast that I immediately recognize: a blue butterfly with a vine entwined knife. Gia Doyle, the teenage daughter of the town's librarian.

“Shit…” I mutter, fury rising inside my chest.

Even though she's one of many young girls who fall victim to the monsters roaming the outskirts of town and even sometimes inside the town itself, I knew Gia from the several trips I made to the library where she helped me find a few books. Which makes this pretty personal.

Cursing under my breath, I'm careful to turn her body back to where it was so at least she won't have her private parts exposed for everyone to see. Clenching my hands into fists, I rise and silently say a few words as tribute to the dead girl before me.

This isn't my first time coming across a dead body during one of my usual nighttime vampire hunts. But no matter how many times it happens, it always stirs up the same amount of boiling hate toward all bloodsuckers.

And now I have to inform the sweet Mrs. Doyle that her only daughter has been eaten by fucking vamps.

Leaves crunch behind me. I whirl around, my heart missing a beat or two. Two male Strigas clad only in torn, greasy pants approach, their colorless lips spreading in sinister smiles. The moonlight shines upon their ghastly pale skin disrupted with black cracks like spiderwebs. Both their exposed bellies hang loosely over their faded belts.

Two fat fuckers. Great.

“Well, well, well, looks like we got some fresh meat over here,” the smaller one croaks out, hungrily flicking its forked tongue at me.

“I could say the same thing,” I remark. Taking out my silver knife, I trace my brother's name engraved on the handle with my thumb before whirling it around my fingers, the light from the moon glinting off the blade.

I had made my first kill when I was eleven years old, a year after my brother never returned from a failed mission. The other hunters told me and my parents that they couldn't even find any of his remains after watching him being torn apart by a group of Strigas.

Something always irked me about that. There was no way that my brother, the best vampire hunter in the country, was taken down by some measly Strigas when he had dealt with shit ten times worse, and always came out unscathed. Well, aside from a broken rib or a scratch, but nothing fatal.

I mean, the ones in front of me don't have any chance against me. So how could my brother succumb to them?

The Mini Striga who previously spoke growls, flashing its white fangs at me. Strigas are in the middle of the vampire chain, and even though they are capable of talking like humans, allowing them to easily lure the unfortunate to their deaths by pretending to be their loved ones, they're still dead, empty husks.

“We'll see about that, little girl,” it snarls before lunging at me . But since this isn't my first time encountering a Striga, I already knew its next move.

Surprise, motherfuckers. I'm a badass, vamp-hunting bitch.

As it reaches me, I plunge the knife into its arm. The silver burns its flesh, emitting a growl of pain from its bloody mouth. Grabbing it by its shoulders, I fling it to the side. It lands on its back with a hiss. The bigger Striga takes advantage of the moment to rush at my exposed back, but I kick it square in the chest. It flies backward.

I click my tongue againt the roof of my mouth in disappointment. "You guys are making this way too easy for me. Come on, I can handle it boys."

The Mini Striga gets back to its feet, providing me the perfect level to pierce its dead heart hilt-deep. It shrieks, its body shaking before bursting into black flames.

A strong force from behind me knocks me flat on my face. The knife goes skidding over the dead leaves. I manage to turn over on my back as Bulky growls, bloody bile dripping from its grinning mouth. It snaps its teeth at me, growls vibrating from its throat. I restrain it from sinking its fangs into my neck with my arm, but I know my time is limited.

This piece of shit is strong as hell, and it got me pinned to the ground.

Its snake-like tongue swipes over its mouth. “I can't wait to have a taste of yur blood, yuh lil' bitch.”

In one quick move, it extends its tongue toward my throat, halting a mere one inch from penetrating my veins with the venom as I hold it back. There's no fucking way I'm turning into one of these creatures.

Not tonight, and not ever.

"Yeah?" I sneer. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you."

I will not fail my life goal to avenge my brother and rid the world of these vamps. I will make him proud, and keep the Rayne legacy of being the best vampire hunters in the country alive. All those years of pushing myself to my limits, day and night, through blood, sweat, and tears, will not go to waste.

I've made that promise to myself since my first kill when I was eleven years old, and I'll forever hold true to that.

"Really?" Bulky barks out a laugh, the Striga's saliva spitting on my face. It takes everything in me not to throw up as I scrunch up my nose in disgust. "I've heard 'bout yuh, Naomi Rayne. The only reassson yuh out here is cuz yuh brotha isss dead."

Instead of getting mad, I smile. Its decaying brows furrow together in confusion.

"And I'll kill every last one of you fuckers."

With a surge of newfound strength, I knee it in the groin with my steel cap. Even dead males still feel pain in that area. It groans, its body contorting and bones cracking as its hold on me loosens for one second. And that's all I need to push its body up before wedging my steel boot against its stomach and kicking it off me. Bulky lands on the ground beside me. I roll to the side to snatch my knife and scramble to my feet.

A burning pain slices through my right calf. With a half-strangled scream, I fall to the ground. Searing numbness surges through my entire leg, the venom already hard at work. The Striga’s cracked lips curl up in a wide, sinister grin as it still clutches its private parts.

“Did you think it wassss going to be that eassssy, you filthhhy whore?” It hisses, curling and uncurling the talons on its hands. The cracking of bones makes my skin crawl as it rolls its head violently to one side and to the next. “I'm going to enjoy sinking my mouth inside of you.”

Gripping my brother's knife, I drag myself backward with my arms, keeping my eyes on Bulky as it follows me. Good thing I have this durable leather suit, otherwise my ass would be painted with purple and red bruises from sliding over rocks lodged within the soil.

Without warning, it pounces on me. My back slams against the ground, knocking the air out of me. I gasp at the pain when its tongue heads straight for my throat again. A rush of adrenaline flows through my veins bubbling with live blood, and the Striga senses it, which in turn, distracts it for a millisecond.

And that's all I need to make my move.

Lifting my hand, I slice through its tongue. The six inch piece of flesh drops right on my throat before dissolving into nothingness. Bulky shrieks in pain.

I grin through the pain in my leg. "Told you, should have watched your tongue."

And I impale its heart, letting the blade taste victory once more. With one last scream, its body shakes and dissipates into flames, leaving behind remnants of black ash floating through the chilly air.

That good old sense of accomplishment surges through my veins like adrenaline. If my brother is observing me right now from heaven, I know he would be proud of his little sister slaughtering these nightcrawlers.

With a groan, I stand back up. The venom has worn off, but my leg is still pretty sore. At least it’s just a surface scratch that won't need stitches afterward. This isn't my first time getting scratched by a fucking Striga, and even though the venom from their talons doesn't have the ability to turn mortals into vamps, it paralyzes that body part, enabling them to execute their kills.

Good thing the torn fabric is barely noticeable. The other hunters would need to look up real close to see anything.

Wiping off dirt and ash from my outfit, I check to make sure all my weapons are on me before starting to walk in the direction of my family's house. Counting the two Strigas, I've already reached past my killing goal for today.

Unless, of course, I encounter some more vamps along the way. I smile at the possibility. That would be an awesome bonus.

A freezing chill blows against my leather clothes. With a shudder, I glance around and notice the remaining brown leaves on the trees are still as death while my stray hair strands lightly blow against my face. Maybe it's just one of those sudden temperature drops that occur in this area. I'm almost convinced that's the cause when a flash of movement between the trees catches my eyes.

It might be a vampire or one of the other monsters that roam the woods, but instead of the desire to bring the thing down, hesitation consumes every nerve in my body. Yet I move forward against my will and follow the blurry figure through the dark forest that is only dimly lit by the moon cowering behind the clouds.

And as sudden as the… thing appeared, it disappears. The icy chill still hangs in the air, but I can’t see the figure that has led me… holy shit, I… I don't know where I am.

I have no idea how I wandered this far out. I’ve never been in this part of the forest. I don't recognize the area, and as I glance around, I can't even see the town's lights. They were visible just a minute ago. Or maybe it wasn't a minute ago. Maybe–

Something lunges at me, and I fall flat on my back. Pain lances through the back of my head. I gasp for air. My eyes squeeze shut, and I let out a strangled curse.

Get up, Naomi. Damnit. Don’t focus on the pain. Just get up.

When I open my eyes, my gaze locks on a face, and I stare into the grayest, most captivating eyes I've ever seen. Her snowflake skin matches her eyes; devoid of any warmth, and yet, yet, they are swirling with the rage of a blizzard. She's wearing red lipstick, and instead of the smell of dead flesh, dangerous scents of roses float in the air. Her face is unlike any vampire I've encountered, with striking and symmetrical beauty owning her jawline and pale, pink cheekbones.

Pink. They're supposed to be devoid of any color. And why the hell am I referring to it as “she”?

Those thoughts circle my mind like a tornado as I find myself paralyzed and powerless. Her black hood slides lower as she leans toward my neck, her snow-white fangs glistening at me under the reappearing full moon.

“Now be a good little girl, and hold still,” she says, her cold breath fanning over my skin.

I can't open my mouth. I can't speak. I can't even make a sound.

Panic overtakes me. My grip on the knife tightens. I urge myself to plunge it through the vampire's heart, but I fail. My hand refuses to move.

I attempt several deep breaths to calm myself. I know that a rapid heart is something vampires hunger for, and mine is reverberating in the still, cold forest like a beacon. The last thing I want is for the one above me to tear it out before I can try to fight back. I can't give up.

This is the first Elite vampire I've met. And I'll be damned if it's the last.

My breath hitches as the tips of her ice-cold fangs kiss my warm neck. Her hand traces up my arm, leaving behind a chilly trail before grasping my shoulder.

Goosebumps form all over my body as my breath catches in my throat at the sensation. It should strike fear into my heart and soul.

But instead, a swirl of confusing emotions stir inside me as something like two needles gently penetrate my skin. There’s pressure, but it doesn't hurt, at all. On the contrary, it's… it feels... good.

Her breath trembles and suddenly, the needle-like feel withdraws from my neck. Still unable to use anything I've been taught to do, her eyes meet mine, staring deep into my soul. They're gray. So gray that I feel like I’m lost in a chaotic blizzard. Sadness and curiosity and red hot rage are all there as she holds my gaze.

So much… emotion.

Which is a crazy thought, because I've been taught that Elites are also incapable of emotions. And that goes against everything I've been taught about them.

I can see more than cold-blooded murder trapped in her eyes as they dart back and forth across my face.

Has everything I been taught… a lie?

Her hand is no longer grasping my shoulder. Instead, the tip of her index finger slowly traces up my exposed neck to my chin before she tilts it up. Her touch is cold, like Death. Even though my hand is still gripping my brother's hunting knife, I can't plunge it. I'm mesmerized, entranced by whatever hypnosis this Elite is casting on me.

Or maybe I'm too weak to resist her. After all, there's a reason my brother was the original Rayne vampire hunter who was supposed to represent the family's legacy. Not me. No, I'm just the replacement. A second option. A backup plan.

She leans forward, her lips inches away from my ear. Then she speaks, her voice haunting and cold, plunging into my mind like smooth icicles.

“You're mine now, Naomi Rayne. Forever.” And with that, she disappears, like smoke in the wind.

Her words continue to echo in my mind, until they fade away into the dark with her.

You're mine.

Forever.