by Shaianne K. PeriHawk

The bar hummed quietly in its typical Friday night lull. Three people in the back played pool while five patrons in the front nursed their drinks. The obviously bleached blond waitress wove her way around the tables delivering more alcohol. The bartender cleaned glasses between orders.

The entrance of a stranger to the bar broke the monotony. She walked silently, like death, like she looked. Dark hair and eyes, accented by gaunt cheekbones gave her the appearance of the Angel of Death. Her black leather jacket hung loosely on her tiny frame. Black jeans, boots and silk shirt just added to the death image. She twined her way to a table near the back. The waitress noticed her right away and took her order: Ginger Ale.

Then the Friday Entertainment Committee walked through the door. Two young men, neither looked old enough to be in the bar, stumbled through the door. No one paid them attention. They lurched to the bar.

"Two shots of bourbon, Harry. And make it snappy!" The short blond one demanded, already far into the drink. The tall redhead just giggled drunkenly. Warily, the bartender poured two shots. He knew the boys' reputation for roughhousing.

The Angel's black eyes watched these two closely. She watched as the blond one groped the waitress every time she passed him. The waitress tried to hold back her disgusted looks, but she wasn't that talented. The little game went on for the two remaining hours of the waitress' shift.

When she didn't come out of the back again, the blond elbowed his tall companion, and they left the bar, without paying.

The Angel followed.

The boys thought they had the waitress cornered. They thought they were big with the eight-inch knife one held to her throat while the other fumbled with her clothes. They thought nothing could go wrong.

They miscalculated.

They ignored the Angel. They were too busy with the waitress to notice her in the bar. They were too busy with the waitress to notice her behind them in the back alley. Before they knew what hit them, she knocked them off the waitress. The tall one landed hard, struggling for breath. The blond ran at the Angel.

Calmly, she reached up and brought his lips to hers. By the time the blond realized his danger, he stood on death's brink. His struggles were weak, useless. He died quietly, a burnt out husk.

The tall one watched in horror. His big hands found the knife. He charged the Angel. With an imperceptible move of her hands, the man lay on the ground, convulsing in death throes with the Angel's lips on his own.

The bartender ran out the back of the bar. "Jen?" he yelled.

The waitress looked up from the horrific scene before her. "Here, Harry." She ran into his arms. "They were gonna do it, Harry," she sobbed.

Harry looked from the Angel to the corpses at her feet. His voice shook. "T-thanks."

The Angel, Angharad Landsend melted into the shadows without a word. Tears shone in her eyes. She slipped across the city to where a different kind of predator lay in wait.

She saw the girl walking alone, in a pastel blue dress. She staggered slightly, like she was inebriated. Angie also saw the dark figure, shadowing the girl.

They struck as one. The vampire leapt on the girl and Angie took her place. Her lips met his in a kiss.

Several moments later, two frightened college age students shivered before her. Angie knelt next to the girl.

"Get him to a hospital, he has acute anemia. He needs a transfusion," she told her before she was gone again. One more vampire returned mortal.

Her Curse

Angie lay in the shadows of another dark alley a few nights later. Her small frame shivered as a cool gulf breeze bit through the thin cotton dress she wore. At least, she thought it was cold, she felt numb to everything anymore. Death hung heavily on her soul, no matter how much they "deserved" it. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks in miniature water falls. She rocked herself back and forth, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her face buried against them. Her chest spasmed in broken sobs. She pounded her closed fist against the asphalt.

"Does it hurt so bad, chére," the Cajun slipped into the shadows where she lay, "to give people back their souls?" He stood like a mountain over her. Six feet of solid muscle, he represented the power-lifter's dream of a perfect V-shaped body. His hair fell in a dark cascade to his waist.

Angie lifted her head and stared into his warm gray eyes. "It hurts that I can never experience the love between two people like I witnessed not so long ago." Her face turned up to the light. With the streetlight illuminating her features, she more resembled an Angel of Light rather than of Death. "What hurts even more is the life I must take to bring the vampires back." She stood, rather shakily. "I can't kiss a mortal without killing him!" She turned to face the wall. "I found that out the hard way." She spun back around. "Luc, what are you doing here? Last time I saw you was in London three months ago."

Luc arched a dark eyebrow. "I followed your trail. After you disappeared in London, I got worried." He shrugged. "Besides, I think we'd make a great team, a little partnership, eh?"

Angie began to laugh. Then she collapsed against the wall. "Luc!" she screamed. "You're out of your mind!" Her breath came in short gasps. "I don't think it would be fair to either of us when I'm very attracted to you and you already said you're attracted to me!"

She spoke no further. Luc lifted her off the ground and crushed her into a kiss.

Nothing happened. His strength showed no signs of ebbing. Angie started to return the miracle kiss.

Suddenly, he broke contact. Slowly, Angie slid to the ground. She felt slightly dazed.

"Luc . . ." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm not quite mortal, chére." He stepped away from her. "But that is a story for another time. I came to tell you that a vampire calling himself Daemon is gathering minions in Dallas. I don't know what he's planning but the murder and missing persons rate are both up 15%." He walked away.

Angie's eyes narrowed on Luc's retreating form. "Filthy bastard."

Coming to Dallas

She took the train. When the Santa Fe Railroad pulled into the Dallas city-limits, she jumped off and walked the rest of the way.

Angie stayed the night in a used car lot, tucked safely in an old Edsel. She left again before it opened in the morning. She made her way to a P. I. Agency down town.

"Welcome to I.V. Lyon and associates. How may I help you?" the bottom heavy secretary asked.

"I need to see one of your private investigators," Angie asked evenly.

"I'll see who is free." The secretary turned to the computer. "Looks like Ms. Arlington, Mr. Tessor, and Miss Sunwolf all have time, but," she paused, then continued in a stage whisper, "Miss Sylvia Sunwolf is the best at finding information."

"Then I'll talk to her." Angie didn't move.

The secretary began to squirm. "I'll go get her." She escaped down the hall.

Angie smiled.

Shortly, a Native American woman came to greet her client.

"Hello, ma'am. Sylvia Sunwolf, at your service." She held out her hand.

"Angharad Landsend." Angie shook. "Glad to meet you, Miss Sunwolf. I want a chart of all the murders and missing persons, I need to find a central location for those incidents. Here's your down payment." Angie handed the detective a wad of $20's. "I'll call you in two days with my address and phone number." Angie left the building.

Ten days later, Angie examined a wall map of Dallas. Her forehead wrinkled in frustration.

"Too many damn criminals in this bloody city," she mumbled.

"I agree. So I had this map of similar MOs made up." Sylvia puled up another map with hundreds of different colored dots. "The blue ones are for people found with an extremely low red blood cell count." She turned to Angie. "I don't know what killed them. The guys at the morgue are stumped too."

"That's the stuff I'm looking for." Angie studied the map. "Is there any way to clean this up?"

"Done." Sylvia pulled out another map for Angie to study. "Y'know, my grandfather used to tell us stories about his youth in Romania during World War II. He manned a radio checkpoint on the border of Nazi territory. There was a village near by where his partner bought supplies. They heard stories of people disappearing in the night. No one talked about it. They were afraid to."

"Sounds like Nazi Europe all right," Angie mumbled.

"Miss Landsend, you must have misheard me," Sylvia raised her silver eyes to Angie's black ones. "I said he was on the border of Nazi territory. The Nazis never reached the village where my grandfather was stationed."

"And?" Angie did not draw her own conclusions.

"The villagers said vampires roamed the night." From beneath her shirt, Sylvia pulled out a bag on a leather thong. "In each of his descendants' medicine bags, my grandfather put a garlic clove."

"He sounds like a superstitious old man." Angie tried one last time to avoid involving the young detective.

"After living through the horrors of combat, my grandfather was quite willing to face reality, Miss Landsend, as am I." Sylvia's jaw set and her eyes took a steely cast.

Angie raised one black eyebrow. "Miss Sunwolf, I think you need to take your Prozac."

Blood of Mine

Angie watched the light patterns of car headlights across her ceiling. She lay on the queen-size hotel-room bed. Her fingers interlaced beneath her sooty haired head. Her bare legs crossed at the ankles. A twisted vine of black roses dripping blood circled her left ankle. She wore lacy black underwear with a matching bra. Vampire hand-me-downs leaned toward skimpy. Woven lines of a Celtic knot encircled her narrow waist. Over her right breast, a tattoo of a dragon in flight rested on the inside of the gentle swell. Her black eyes stared, unblinking.

She heard a tap on the balcony door.

Angie jumped over to the curtain, pulled it slightly to the side to peek outside. The tumble of jet hair gave away the knocker's identity.

Angie flung the door open. "Luc!" She rushed to the man's side. "What's wrong?" He didn't respond. Angie grabbed Luc's motorcycle riding leathers with both hands and hauled him into her room.

She moved the chairs out of the way and straightened Luc's long frame. She called the front desk for more blankets. She stripped Luc to his briefs and covered him with the blankets from the bed.

"Luc?" Angie tucked a strand of black hair behind his ear. His skin felt icy cold.

Angie answered the knock at the door. She left the teenaged bellboy gaping at the door. Angie swung away from the closed door. The bulky blankets knocked a glass into the wall. The glass shattered.

Angie dropped the blankets. She gathered up the shards of glass.

"Ouch!"

Angie watched the blood bead up on her wrist. "Damn." She dropped the glass into the bathroom trashcan. She retrieved the blankets and settled them over Luc.

Suddenly Luc's hand caught hold of Angie's bleeding wrist. Angie watched in strange fascination as he brought her wrist to his mouth. Luc's tongue flicked out, catching loose droplets of blood. His lips fastened on her wrist. Angie felt his teeth sink into her vein. There was no pain, just a slight light-headedness.

Luc's eyes flickered open. They widened in shock and surprise. He tore his mouth away from her wrist. "Angie! No!"

It was too late. Angie's vision blackened.

The darkened room crackled with subdued energy. Angie sprawled on the bed, breathing shallowly.

"Angie." The side of the bed sank beneath Luc's substantial weight. He lifted her head. "Drink this." He placed a bowl to her lips. Angie drained the bowl.

"I wish you would've explained earlier." Angie sat up. "That was a real shock to my system. Not to mention my mind."

"I didn't think you were ready, chére. I planned to tell you after we finished here in Dallas." Luc folded his legs beneath him. "Last night was an accident. I ran into one of Daemon's lieutenants, I was not ready."

"That's because you deprived your body," Angie snapped. "My mother told me about halflings. They're what happens when a Hunter gives the last of her life energy, including her own. They need a small amount of blood and three meals a day in order to survive. The blood keeps them alive, aging at a slower rat, same strength and speed as a full vampire. You've been skipping blood." Angie scolded.

"There is no one to give." Luc shrugged. "I feared you would never trust me if I came to you demanding blood."

"So you wait until you're so faint your instinct drags your sorry carcass here?" Angie scowled.

"I didn't say it made sense."

"You are just incredibly lucky." She pounded the bed and knelt up. "Hunter blood is poisonous to full vampires."

"But better than human blood to Halflings." Luc snapped. "Your mother told me that before she died. She's the one who transformed me."

Angie stood mute. Her charcoal eyes widened with unexplained emotion. Her hands lay limp on her knees. Luc turned away and walked toward the bathroom.

Angie launched herself at Luc's back. Her small fist smashed into his jaw as her body flew through the air.

Without missing a beat, Luc ignored the sudden pain, snatched Angie out of the air, and threw her back on the bed. Her trapped her hands above her head, and covered her struggling body with his own.

"Angie." The Hunter struggled for nothing but air under the Halfling's 250 pounds. "Twelve years ago, she gave her life to return a small portion of my humanity to me. I have tried to live up to her gift to me since then. Yes, I watched her die. A peaceful, painless death. We talked for quiet a while, Susannah and I. Especially about her daughter, Angharad."

"I hate that name." Tears streamed down Angie's face. "But I never minded it from her. I know it wasn't your fault, Luc." Angie gasped on a sob. "I'm sorry for attacking you."

Luc rolled to the side and gathered Angie into his embrace. "I know, chére. Don' you worry none." He kissed her tears away, and held her until she slept.

Time and Task

The vampires converged on the hotel room. Windows and doors burst inward beneath their weight. They swarmed in, rending and tearing anything that came to claw.

Outside, just minute ahead of the vampire raid on her motel room, Angie mounted the motorcycle behind Luc. The Harley roared to life as they took off into the night.

They drove straight to the P.I. office, where Sylvia seemed to be waiting for them. On the way, Angie explained Sylvia, and the information the detective had gathered.

"You trusted a mortal woman with the story?" Luc sounded disbelieving.

"I did, and what business is it of yours. She wanted to hear it, and practically demanded I tell the whole story." Angie shouted back over the wind.

"Fine, but she's not coming with us."

They parked in the back of the office building. Angie walked in ahead of Luc.

"So you've discovered where he is?"

"Yes." Sylvia stared at Angie and Luc across her desk. "I would like to help."

"You have," Luc said.

"So very much." Angie's voice broke. "There is nothing more you can do."

Sylvia's chicory eyes flashed. "Are vampires vulnerable to garlic and wood?" She demanded.

Angie turned to the window. "Sylvia-"

"Just answer the question."

"Yes." Luc's voice cut across the tension in the air.

Angie's shoulders slumped. "Very well. May we all rest in peace."

They didn't bother to hide their coming. Shadows of death strode underground. The Hunter flanked by two Guardians, intent on ridding the world of as many undead as possible.

Sylvia un-slung her crossbow and took aim. One after another, vampires fell to the floor.

Luc held a stake in each hand. He flew through the air, clearing a path for Angie.

Those that the guardians missed, Angie kissed to mortality. The trio of destruction stirred panic among the undead. Yet they found no sign of Daemon.

Angie held one of her victims in her arms. "Tell me where he is," she whispered, stroking the girl's blond hair out of her face.

The girl gasped, her green eyes blinked rapidly. "In-in the meat locker. H-he's waiting."

"Rest now, child. You are free."

Angie stood, carefully laying the girl back down. As she began to walk, she stumbled.

Luc was there to catch her. "Angie, you're too weak-"

"No!" she snapped. "We must finish this." She pushed herself back to her feet. "Let's go."

"No, Angie, Luc is right. Stay here. You're too weak to help." Sylvia insisted, pushing Angie to the ground. "We can get him."

Angie sat unmoving, defeated by her own body.

"No, Sylvia, you stay with her. I'll handle this." Luc left the women behind.

The heavy iron door that led down to the meat locker swung closed behind Luc. Daemon looked down at the two women. He liked his lips as his eyes slid over Sylvia. "Perfect. A succulent meal and a Hunter too weak to stop me." His voice sounded childishly delighted.

He reached out and yanked Sylvia into his arms. The Indian woman kicked and struggled, but uselessly. Daemon lowered his head and began to feed. Angie watched helplessly.

Suddenly, Sylvia heard choking sounds. She dropped to the floor, no longer supported.

Daemon backed away, clutching at hi throat. His face turned several shades of yellow and red. His knees gave out and he crashed to the floor. Then he moved no more.

Angie dragged herself to Sylvia's side. She tore off a strip of her shirt to staunch the bleeding. "Poison blood," Angie whispered. "Only hunters and the Reverted have poisoned blood."

Sylvia grimaced in pain. "Long story. Remind me to tell it to ya some time."

Angie stumbled over to the big metal door and opened it. Luc rushed through. When he saw no danger, he picked Angie up in his arms.

"Remind me never to leave you behind." He squeezed her fiercely.

"So," Sylvia spoke up. "What now?"

"We move on," Angie said. "There are vampires everywhere. What you do is entirely up to you. She sagged against Luc as he lowered her to her feet. Luc leaned down and helped Sylvia to her feet.

"You guys mind if I follow you around for a bit? Following cheating wives gets so boring," Sylvia asked as the trio limped away.

"One thing vampire hunting can never be, fille, is boring."

The End