Cold blood

I stared down at the newspaper in my hand, reading it with a low growl, coming from deep in my throat.1

I involuntarily made my hand into a fist, crumpling the paper into a crinkled mess. I smashed it into a ball and threw it into the wastebasket on the other side of my room. The headline seemed to be burned into my vision: "Super Human, Half Man Half Beast, Saves Bus Load of People!"2

Why don't these people understand? I thought to myself, placing my head into my hands. I never thought of myself as a hero; these people had no idea what uncharted territory they were crossing. If anything, I was a killer. I sighed, looking out the open window out of the corner of my eye. The unmistakable noise of New York morning traffic drifted in, and I stood up to survey the busy street below. I looked down at the street absently, remembering the night before, the bus ravaging out of control, the half moon glaring down from its perch in the light-polluted sky...3

A beeping noise behind me snapped me out of my reverie. It was the alarm I had set the night before, not expecting to be out all night. I wandered to the side of my bed and flipped the off switch. I had morning duty today, and I had to be at work by 8:30. Not that early for a police man, I know, but this job has its benefits.4

I pulled on my gray tweed coat and sleek sunglasses, leaving without another glance behind me. Unlike most people on the police force, I was never forced to wear a uniform. I'd had a natural talent in handling a weapon, tracking down a criminal, and ambushing my prey, but at the same time I was very incisive and noticed things others didn't. I tried not to think why I might have these remarkable abilities, as I didn't wish to attribute it to my predator status. Now I was like the undercover force, the one that noticed clues without being noticed himself, almost like a detective. My job didn't even have a title anymore; no more "Chief Troy" or "Officer Brad", not that it bothered me in the slightest. 5

The moment I got out of my apartment, I walked down the street briskly, keeping my head down to keep my shielded eyes from getting burned, waiting to duck into an alleyway. That was one of the things I loved most about New York; there were so many dark passageways between buildings that I almost never had to shield my eyes from the sun, and I could run at my natural speed instead of always walking like any ordinary person. As soon as I was far enough into the grime-stricken alleyway not to be seen from the noisy road, I folded my glasses into my shirt pocket, then took off, my coat flapping in my wake like a flag. I jumped a chain link fence up ahead effortlessly, pushing off it with my foot but not touching it otherwise. Sometimes I was grateful I had been bitten, but the negatives somehow made the positives look insignificant and pointless.6

So I could live forever. Big deal. Eternal life isn't actually as wonderful as the title might suggest. I'd been 24 for sixty years, and boy was I sick of moving and convincing agencies to hire me despite my age. When I lived in a place for a long time, I eventually had to rub my skin with a solution making it rubbery and more wrinkly, and often times I streaked my hair with bits of gray to add age. It only worked for so long, though. 7

The other plus was my advanced muscles and senses. That was part of the reason for the whole bus incident the other night; I had managed to push it back before it went careening into the East River off the Manhattan Bridge. Apparently the driver had had one drink too many. The senses part wasn't so fun; I had to smell the mouthwatering aroma of humans all day, like a starving man stranded in an all-you-can-eat buffet all day, having to keep himself from chomping down.8

That was part of the negatives. Sure, having your eyes cook whenever you were in direct sunlight was bad, but really, that's easily solved with sunglasses or a hat. Now, the thirst...9

Part of the reason I had joined the police force was to make myself less guilty. I had to feed, or I would die. This way I could kill criminals I knew would get the death sentence eventually, or at least be jailed for life. Not that it makes murder any easier. I only had to do it once every six weeks or so, but still. There's nothing worse than looking into a man's eyes right before you kill him. Also, I got the plus of saving lives each day, so I figured it evened out my record, though I could never forgive myself for all the lives I had taken for mine to continue.10

There's a thin line between good and bad. I walk that line every single day. When I stray from it... people die.11

I jumped another fence, then landed into a crouch, straightening my coat and brushing off any dirt that might have gotten on it from my five minute sprint. I didn't bother putting on my glasses; the rest of the walk to the police station was shaded by small trees, and most people don't wear shades on the street in September. 12

"Hey Brad," the frizzy-haired receptionist greeted me as I walked in.13

"Michelle," I acknowledged, grinning and throwing her a quick wave as I passed, slowing a little at her desk. "Anything new I should know about the DeVont case?"14

"Some more suspects found in the East Brooklyn area," she informed me without hesitation. I thanked her and continued on my way, but she called me back to her desk. 15

"Hey, did you hear about this guy on Manhattan Bridge last night?" she said to me, obviously awed. My smile faded. "He saved a whole bus load of people from certain death!" she continued, an enthralled look on her face, pearly teeth gleaming. "They say he stopped the bus with his bare arms after it swerved to the side. Apparently he just appeared there out of nowhere, saving all these people! It's on all the headlines! Jessie and I were trying to decide if this was real or not, but everyone is talking about it, and they think it's totally true! The guy vanished before anyone could see his face though. I don't see why; he'd probably be crowned town hero!"16

I was growing more uncomfortable by the second. "I heard," I said, trying not to sound cold.17

"What do you think?" she asked hanging on my words.18

"I think he should be captured," I told her smugly. She looked horrified at these words, her black lashes batting in confusion. "Nobody should have those kinds of powers, even if they are used for good. It's not right." I turned on my heel and strolled away before she could protest.19

The morning passed in a blur. I heard a few more people mention the bus case, but other than that it was a generic morning at the station. Before lunch, an officer named Carl who I sometimes had cases with set off with me to interview a few suspects for the case we were currently working on. There had been various murders committed on the streets, mostly in Brooklyn, which is where Carl and I were headed now. The drive there was about fifteen minutes since the traffic had lightened a bit. We took an ordinary car, not wanting to attract attention to ourselves. 20

Most of the drive was silent, aside from the occasional small talk concerning the case, or today's headlines. Carl was a quiet, hardworking man with a heavy build. He looked about forty, but not a single gray hair showed on his head so I suspected he was younger. I had liked working with him in the past because he wasn't talkative, just serious and productive. He got the job done quickly and carefully, no donut nonsense. 21

We stopped at the address of the first suspect and set to questioning. It was in the part of town where you'd never expect someone to live, surrounded by cafes and clothes stores. The first suspect was an old man who seemed to be going senile in his later years and couldn't even understand most of what we were talking about, so the visit was brief. The second interview was almost as short, though in a less commercial part of town, a single mom with two crying babies in the background that seemed to be innocent enough. We would come back to her. After another similar talk with a body builder down the street, I was starting to genuinely lose interest. There were ups and downs to this lifestyle, too. 22

The fourth visit was interesting, however. If I can call it that.23

The address led us to an apartment in the middle of a street that looked like it had been abandoned ages ago. Most of the windows and doors were boarded shut, and even the traffic seemed to avoid this block. The sidewalk was littered with yellowing newspapers and other various trash. Other than dogs barking a ways away, there wasn't much noise heard in the street. Had the numbers and the name of the street not been printed on an official looking form in my hand, I would have never suspected anyone lived here. Then again, maybe that was the point.24

As we were walking up the steps to the door, we heard loud voices inside, then gunshots. 25

"Take the back," I told Carl, and he nodded, moving away swiftly. I pulled out my pistol, loading it, and kicked the scratched up door open. 26

The room I barged into was much darker than the street, all the windows covered by dark curtains. There was a thin woman wearing a simple green blouse and black pants sitting at a table with two men, one thin as a skeleton and one more plump, the latter of which looked very angry. They both had similar suits on, a cheap shade of brown, complete with bowler hats, and they had papers scattered over the table they were sitting at. The room stunk of cigar smoke, and there were two holes in the wall where the second man had evidently fired his gun in anger. They looked up at me in shock, but the shock was exceptional on the woman's face, as well as my own. Her pile of red hair was exactly the same as last time I'd seen it, four years ago, except now it was rolled into a bun on the back of her head with a pen holding it in place. 27

"You!" she hissed as she recognized me, green eyes widening, jumping on all fours on the table like a terrified cat. She darted further into the apartment, the men sitting in the half darkness with the same expressions on their faces, motionless. 28

"Cassidy!" I roared, right at her heels even with her head start. I didn't take my hands off my gun. She sped through a corridor with old paintings on the walls into a pitch black windowless room in the back. I entered cautiously, cursing under my breath. 29

"Come out you wretched vampire!" I spat into the blackness, and an angry hiss answered me. "I'd say you're a cat, but that would only explain nine of the times I've killed you!" I yelled, not bothering to keep the disgust out of my voice. Then she shot out of the darkness, going for my throat like a vicious mountain lion. Her eyes looked bloodthirsty, not to mention pissed. I knew that look well. I managed to rip her off before she bit down, though even if she did it would have been pointless. She lunged into the room across the hall, and this one did have a window, out of which she jumped with an earsplitting shattering noise. I followed her into the bright daylight, squinting my eyes and reaching for my glasses as I dove out. The shards of glass on the sidewalk were splattered with blood that steamed unnaturally in the light.30

Vampire blood.31

She was the same woman I had once fallen for stupidly, so many years ago. This is how I had to pay, living this life day after day, the life of a killer. I forgot all about the case; now I just had to find her. I had to have my revenge, though I knew she probably wouldn't die again. The wooden stake idea hadn't worked well at all. 32

She was already out of sight, but I set off at full speed in the direction the smears of blood on the sidewalk led. She was already off the block, no doubt in one of the alleys. 33

I followed her blindly, letting my nose lead me to her. It never failed. She smelled of blood, and not vampire blood either. She had obviously feasted recently. I had no idea what she had to do with the DeVont case, but she was a coldblooded killer all the same. I had shot her before, I'd strangled her, used the stake idea, tried to kill her in more ways than one. None of them worked. I had more ideas this time. But this had to end, she had to stop killing. She had to stop living. 34

I raced through the dimness, everything blurring at my speed. I had to stop several times after taking a wrong turn to catch her smell again. After twenty minutes of thoughtless chase, I finally slowed down. The scent was fading. I had lost her. I cursed to myself, then remembered Carl, alone in Brooklyn, and swore again, loudly. I was in a totally different area now; I wasn't even entirely sure where. I wondered how on earth I would explain this one. I raced to the nearest street and, seeing where I was, sped quickly back to suspect number four's lair, taking all the shortcuts I knew of. I got there almost two times faster.35

I burst in the door of the same building, my eyes searching the darkness before I could even see anything in the sudden change of light, and there was Carl, the two men dragging him into a corner. A piece of duct tape covered his mouth, covered in blood from a nose that was obviously broken. Blood was in his brown hair as well, some of it trickling down his forehead. His pale blue eyes were open, but they were glazed over. A dead man. 36

Rage got the best of me. Carl was a good man. Why did this city have to be so ridden with crime and wicked people? I shook with anger, not for this time, but for all the times I had seen someone die unjustly, all the abuse people had to put up with. I acted thoughtlessly, the thirst and the fury doing the job for me. It was over in a minute.37

I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve, sucking in a breath of musty air. The two murderers lay dead in a pile of their own blood. Two killers, killed. I knew they had been the culprits in this case all along; they would have gotten punishment anyway for all the murders that had happened at their hands. I looked at them coldly, and bent down to shut their eyelids before turning back to Carl and doing the same.38

I didn't feel guilty, for once. I took Carl under one arm and carried him out the front door, which had been ripped off its hinges, into the passenger seat of the car. I wasn't sure what had killed him; it didn't matter to me. The sound of the engine filled my head as I drove to the nearest busy street, parked the car and ran back to the apartment where three deaths had taken place in the last hour. I knew someone would find my partner within the hour, it wasn't that hard to see a dead man through the windshield of a car. I was half surprised someone hadn't stopped me as I had parked.39

As for me, I was preparing for a new life. I had seen too much death and blood in my long lifetime, and today had been the last straw. I was ready for a change. Half man, Half beast may not be the best superhero name, but I'd deal with it. This world was rotten, and it was I who'd bring it that step closer to perfection. 40

I'd had a taste of blood today already, the metallic taste still fresh in my mouth, and there would be more to come if all went as planned. I wouldn't live hiding my true self anymore. People loved justice, did they not? 41

I picked up Cassidy's scent again, and stalked off. The world was better off without people like her, I decided.