The Boring Life of a Vampire Huntress

Victoria Parker was never a fighter. She was the popular, pretty girl who was friends with everyone at school (even the 'nerds'). She was, in every way, a pacifist.
But when she learns that her life isn't being lead how it is supposed to be; that she must be out fighting hordes of demonic creatures, she re-evaluates her life, and learns that fighting isn't so bad. In fact, it's essential...


1897, London

The life that a vampire hunter leads is a lonely one. It is an existance, only for one thing; to annihilate and demolish the evil, demonic creatures that roam the Earth, searching desperately for the one thing they crave; the one thing they only ever consume. Blood.

The life a vampire hunter leads is a miserable one. But it's an important one.

Standing menacingly in the 'Queen's Head' tavern, a man of around thirty years clenched his huge, grimy fists. He was waiting-- no,anticipating. The tavern was empty apart from him, but he knew that the only way he could warn off the evil in the world, was to do it alone.

He sported a beard that was wiry and knotty, a beard that was never clean or neat. His beard, as was his hair, was pure white, though his face was young, under the flecks of dirt and grime that masked it. His deep set hazel eyes scoured the room for any danger.

Apparently, there was none. Well, for that one second.

A loud CRASH! boomed through the room, ricocheting off anything it fell upon (which was everything). The man's eyes fell onto a figure in the doorway. The doors had been crashed in, and had flown to the other end of the room, and rebounded off of the walls.

The figure was shrouded in darkness, but it was obvious that the figure was a woman. No man had curves and hair a feline as that; no man had a mass of curly, dark hair that cascaded gracefully like a waterfall from her head.

As she walked forward, the steady click click sound of her heeled boots echoed off the walls. The moonlight burst in through the stained glass windows, and accentuated the features of her face. She was pale as a ghost, but her face was incredibly, angelically beautiful. Her big eyes were an icy-blue, and were framed by sets of long, thick lashes, that cast dark shadows over her high cheek bones. Her nose was small and angular, her face symmetrical. Had this man not been involved with these creatures before, he wouldn't have been prepared for her utter beauty.

The woman smiled as she moved forward. The smile morphed into a mencaing sneer, as she crouched down, her ivory fingers curved into claws. She growled a muted growl, and pounced. But the man- though this should have been impossible- was faster. He moved out of the way, his face an emotionless mask. The vampiress crashed into the bar, leaving a crack in the wood. She was up in the same second, growling between heavy breaths, blue fire fluttering in her eyes.

She moved forward again, just as quick, but doubly carefully. As the man moved out of the way, so did the vampiress. She grabbed him, and fell to the ground. She moved slowly to his neck. He smiled as he looked down at her body lowering onto the tiny wooden stake he was holding up from his chest.

Her eyes widened, as she crumbled into dust in waves. The man coughed, and dusted himself off as he got up.

His job was done; but his career was far from over...

The End

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