Hunters

I've always been fascinated by the paranormal. My adopted parents aren't too keen on anything of that nature though. They're really religious, and they don't believe in anything I tell them. In fact, I'm not really important to them, but they keep me anyway. But I swear, everything changed when the new kid came to my school. That's when everything changed. Note - This will contain strong language and violence. If you're not into that sort of thing, please, don't blame me when that occurs in this story. Just stop reading.

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8. Laura - Dearest Helsing

After a couple of hours sitting aimlessly, I needed to do something. Maybe go shopping, shopping was something I had to do on my own eventually. I swung my legs off the end of my bed, managing for the first time in a while not to hit the nightstand, and opened up my wardrobe.

And hit my head against the open door. Every t-shirt had holes in them. Every single t-shirt. I sighed, and grabbed the nearest jacket without charred sleeves or slash marks, and walked downstairs, dodging random people I really didn’t have the time to talk to. No Shade, so on we go outside.

It was around February, so the air was still biting at my skin viciously. I stood there for a couple of seconds, before sprinting back inside and running up to my room, grabbing a pair of ear muffs, a black scarf I had been bought for Christmas and a pair of fingerless gloves, before wrapping up and heading back outside.

And this time, I got further on my own than the street I lived in. It was a miracle that I had the guts to spend more than 5 minutes outside the warmth of the house without someone, namely usually Shade, to kick me out of the door.

The weather was determined to put me off going away, and turned my breath to mist. “It’s feels like being underground again…” I muttered, watching the cold adamantly turn every single breath the same way.

Instead of chickening out and running back upstairs to my lodgings, I took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of frost and salt water, and walked with purpose with my handbag hanging by my side. After navigating my way through the twisting alley, which Whitby seemed to have a lot of along with steep hills and old stone steps, I found my way to the harbour.

And the shops. One great thing about Whitby was the shopping. It was famous for all manner of Gothic shopping, and I couldn’t be in a better place to find my new t-shirts, jeans and jackets. Weapons seemed to shred any that I bought, and I looked down to my shoes, battered and beaten leather boots with slash marks on the toes.

“Get them steel capped for training.”

I wish I’d listened to Gerard on that one. So, I walked into the shop, being instantly greeted by a wall of masquerade masks and feathers. “Good afternoon Laura.” Mark said evenly, flashing me a small smile. I smiled and walked over, leaning on the till.

“Hey, did you get that hoodie in or not?” I asked, and he nodded, pointing towards the back of the shop. “It’s in the back, second shelf. Bring it back here; I’ve got your boots here with me.” I smiled and muttered my thanks, before slipping off into the back of the shop.

Black was almost everywhere in this shop. The walls were a metallic silver, shining dully in the soft lights hanging above. The wooden floorboard would often creak if too many people where in the shop at the same time, and some had ashes lying on them dormant. These ashes were kicked up as I walked to the back, missing the mannequins and hangers, along with rows of heavy coats and skinny dresses.

At the back of the shop, I found what I was looking for. A long black trench coat, laid with sewn military medals and then the crest that was on my hand on the right shoulder. ‘Caelosque et patriam’. “Nice touch…” I muttered, pulling on the jacket and buttoning it up.

“You like?” Mark asked, stepping through with a pair of steel capped boots. I nodded and snatched the boots from him, to which he chuckled and chucked me a pump bag. “Keep your others in there. T-shirts are in there too.”

I nodded again while changing into the new boots, and then dug into my bag, finding my wallet and handing him the money. “Many thanks dearie.” He said, and walked out. I took the hint and left, watching a black cat as it jumped down from a roof outside. Stepping back out into the cold, I noticed the stone slabs that made the walkway had suddenly turned a dark grey, and rain drops hit my skin in droves.

Well fuck the weather.

I broke into a run and charged down the narrow alleys, before grabbing onto a drainpipe and swinging myself onto the rooftops. It was quicker up here, and obviously no one ever took to the roofs. I slide down to the edge of the roof, leaping onto the next one, and repeated for about 3 minutes, before I felt someone push me, and I slid off the roof, clutching onto the drainpipe and hanging with little grip.

“Dearest Helsing, why don’t you come play with us?”

I heard the voices, and hauled myself to see the people speaking. With my elbows just touching the roof, two twin girls chuckled and pointed. “Mr wants to play with you!” they shouted, their blue eyes twinkling in the rain. I blinked and then the slightly taller girl walked over, and jumped on my hands.

I screamed as I lost my grip, and the girl’s eyes lit up a bright glowing red as I descended towards the ground, and she chuckled as my head smashed into the wet stone.   

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