Sanguine Town

A semi-fantasy world where vampires, werewolves and the supernatural are commonplace. A series of events unfold in the city of "Sanguine Town", that intertwine the fates of five men who are at most acquaintances of the others, but hate them nonetheless.
Lucas, a vampire with no house to call for protection; Detective Inspector Jones, a detective who wants to close an important case; Dante Shadow, a half-vampire looking to redeem himself; Drake Hunter, leader of the Vampire Hunters; and Maxwell Greenwall, a werewolf with a hatred of almost everyone.

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6. The Kill

As he placed the glass back on the table, James looked out of the window towards the park.

No one went there at night. No one really went anywhere at night.

And on the night of the full moon, being outside was almost always a mistake.

That was when he saw the black shape, running across the grass and towards the diner.

Everyone else was oblivious to it, and he prepared to shout a warning to everyone.

Then came the crash.

The shape had moved faster than James had thought, and it was already there, standing on James’s table.

The dark brown fur was covered in glass, and a shard was stuck in the wolf’s snout.

James prepared to move away, but the wolf sensed him and turned to look at him.

“Good wolf. Nice wolf,” James muttered uselessly.

The wolf howled and swiped a claw at him, opening his throat; blood poured out, and as James blacked out, he saw one man’s face change.

There was a vampire in the diner.

***

Jones opened the door of the taxi, and suddenly heard screaming from the direction of the diner.

James!” his mind cried.

He handed a small sum of money to the driver and then raced away.

Damn. Another feeding lost,” Lucas thought, frustrated. With a sigh, he drove away.

Jones, meanwhile, drew a pistol from under his coat as he closed in on the diner.

He could see blood on the windows, and the people who lived in the nearby buildings were running away.

One ran into Jones. “Don’t go in there!” he cried.

Jones pushed him out of the way and continued running.

Finally he reached the door, and he paused.

Surely the Hunters would be on their way.

But as he thought it, he had entered the building without realising.

There, surrounded by smashed tables and seats, a vampire and a werewolf duelled.

Jones stood, staring at them, and then, over where he and James had been sitting, he saw a corpse; its slit throat still bleeding.

James.

He crept around the fighting creatures until he reached the body.

The eyes were still wide open, and Jones gently closed them.

The vampire smashed into a nearby table, and Jones prepared to fire a shot into its chest.

Luckily, he didn’t have to. By blind chance, a sharp piece of wood had pierced the vampire’s heart.

A second later, there was nothing but grey dust.

Now Jones was left facing a werewolf – a very angry werewolf.

***

Drake put down the phone.

Possible werewolf attack. Park-Side Diner,” was all it had taken.

He slammed down the accelerator and hurried to the scene, his trigger finger twitching involuntarily.

***

Maxwell howled.

The night was young, and he’d already made enough kills to satisfy three werewolves.

And one of them was a vampire. There was no better killing.

But there was another human now. He smelt dangerous, and there was a gun in his hand.

It wasn’t a Hunter though, so he stood a chance.

Against a Hunter, only a pack could win. A plain human with a gun?

No problem.

He circled, toying with his prey.

It was late, so the human would be tired.

Perfect target.

He leaped, claws aimed for the human’s face.

This would be over quickly.

 

“Oh, crap!” Jones cried, diving away.

There was a horrid crunch, and Jones saw the wolf on top of James’s broken body.

Taking advantage of the wolf’s momentary confusion, Jones fired off a whole clip.

Each bullet hit, striking the wolf’s shoulders.

Not the best shots – definitely not lethal – but enough to cause pain to the wolf (and possibly identify the human).

Unshaken, the wolf crouched again, and prepared to leap.

Trapped on the ground, Jones knew he had no hope.

 

Drake burst into the diner, firing five shots from his pistol, each hitting the werewolf’s side, one dangerously close to the kidneys.

The wolf faced him, recognised the scent of a Hunter, whined and leapt out of the smashed window.

Drake prepared to give chase, but then saw a police detective lifting himself from the floor.

“Thank you,” the detective said. “You saved my life.”

“Just doing my job,” Drake replied.

The wolf would have escaped by now.

“You’re Drake Hunter, aren’t you?”

Drake nodded.

“I’m Detective Jones. I hear we’re to be working together,” the detective continued.

Drake faced him and scoffed. “I have to work with someone who can’t fight off a werewolf? Wonderful.”

Jones scowled. “You may hunt supernaturals, but we put them behind bars, and keep them there.”

Drake scoffed again. “We will speak again when we work the case. Now head home in case it comes back.”

“No,” Jones snapped. “That beast killed my friend, and this is now a crime scene. If you care that much, stick around until I have some backup.”

Drake sighed and sat on the only intact chair. “Very well.”

Jones nodded and removed a mobile phone from his pocket. He dialled a number and put the phone to his ear.

“It’s Jones. Get some men to the Park-Side Diner. And get me James’s wife. I have some news for her…”

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