Having just moved to a new town, the one thing on our protagonist’s mind is fitting in. Needless to say, that won’t be the least of her worries once the local vampire coven learns of her arrival. Their elder calls her kind “abominations,” and has decreed a sentence of death upon the head of any who enter his territory. He has called upon our antagonist, one of his most trusted assassins, to complete the job. But what happens when our assassin’s lust changes forms? The coven’s elder won’t be pleased when this news reaches his ear.





Green eyes flickered open as the sun dropped below the horizon in small town suburbia. Lights flickered on throughout the town, and curtains were drawn across the windows to keep invisible eyes from peaking in. Lit windows dotted the otherwise dark exterior wall of an apartment complex near the center of the town. Inside, most families were just sitting down for dinner or gathering around the TV to watch the latest hit game show, sitcom, or drama, but one young woman was just waking up from a long day’s rest. A soft yawn broke the silence in the apartment, and an ivory-toned hand darted out from under the sheets to silence the unneeded alarm. The quiet rustle of bed sheets met her ears as she swung her feet to the floor, standing up. Moving across the room, the woman paused in front of her dresser, gazing into the mirror hanging on the wall above it. The room behind her met her gaze, obstructed only by her own ghostly reflection, transparent as a dusty window. She was there, but only just… partially human, partially alive… Sighing softly, she reached for her brush and began untangling her blonde locks.

The sound of something- or someone -falling in the apartment above hers met her ears, followed shortly by a child’s cries. Her eyes rose to the ceiling, listening closely to the mother’s voice. “It’s alright, Emily, honey. It’s just a little scrape,” she heard the older woman coo to her child. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.” Whatever had happened, the coppery scent that reached the eavesdropper’s nose confirmed it was a good deal more serious than just a scrape; blood had been spilt. The scent made her veins ache with hunger. It seemed like ages since she’d last fed on the warm nectar of human blood. She so rarely partook in the killing of the ones that made up half of who she was, a pastime the other half revealed in almost nightly. She tried to go as long as she could before giving in, living for months off the blood of bovine and swine from the butchers’, occasionally getting lucky with a spare bag of blood from a local drive. No matter mater what she did, however, she could never prevent the inevitable. Eventually, her instincts took over; eventually, she had no choice but to hunt, to kill, to feed, and she never failed to find it sickeningly enjoyable every time. The hunt… The kill… The meal itself… It brought with it a pleasure nothing had ever been able to top.

She had the nature, instincts, needs of a vampire, but the heart, soul, and conscience of a mortal woman. Sired of a vampire from conception, but born of a mortal woman. A creature of both worlds, belonging to neither. Always the misfit, always the reject. Her father had been murdered, and her mother, who had always said she loved her daughter regardless of what had happened, had never failed to bring up her father’s death, always managing to blame it on her, to guilt her in to one thing or another. It had been like that until the day her mother had died, leaving her alone in two worlds. One side considered her a killer, the other a weak mutt.

Had she ever let her… disability prevent her from embracing one half or the other? No. Quite the opposite, actually. She had embraced it. Being part of what she hunted only made her, if anything, more deadly that her full-blooded kindred; it allowed her to better blend in. Everything about her was more alive than that of a pure vampire. Her skin tone peachier, voice warmer, eyes kinder, even the slow but steady beat of her heart all acted as camouflage to help her stalk her prey. Her instincts took over when the first drop of blood passed her lips, the instincts of a predator, a natural-born killer. She was built to be the perfect predator, the perfect killer in disguise. Funny how things never work how they’re supposed to…

Returning her hairbrush to her dresser and changing into something more suitable for a night spent at a bar or a club, the young half-breed headed out the door, not bothering to lock it behind her. She didn’t plan on staying in her little suburban town for her late night meal; the night life wasn’t so much alive as it was mischievous. Few people were brave enough to venture out past sunset, and those that were usually weren’t up to anything good. Walking swiftly through the small lobby of her apartment building, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool night air, setting off toward the bigger city that had nearly engulfed her little suburban town.