He knelt down and surveyed the scene, his unblinking eyes taking in the blood and the carnage. The alley reeked of death, and even the deafening pounding of the rain wasn’t able to wash it away. He was soaked, his limbs numb and his body heavy, but his mind was racing. This scene, this was her work. He knew it.
The bodies were torn beyond any recognition, but he was exceptionally skilled at reading this kind of work, after all he had been doing it for a long time. Three men, more than likely in the middle of indulging their more primal desires when she attacked. This was how most of her hunts occurred. She was reliving the very night she herself was turned, over and over again.
He cursed, knowing he must have just missed her. She had probably taken the young girl she “saved” back to her haven, and now there would be another one that carried his blood. Him, the only reason he continued to pursue this young monster, this Girl With the Dead Eyes. She was sired by the worst monster of all, the subject of his vengeance. He would catch her, and before he tore her heart from her chest he would find where her sire had disappeared to, and then he would have his revenge.
The rain was beginning to let up, and he knew that the sun must be coming up soon. The sky stopped weeping when the monsters of his blood went to sleep and ceased to hunt, if only for a while. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he stood. He was getting closer, he knew it. He had discovered a fresh kill tonight, which was promising. Tomorrow night she would be showing her new childe the ropes, giving her the grand tour of all the delights her new life would bring her. He would make sure the tour would not live up to her expectations.
He was a hunter through and through, and he was hunting the Girl With the Dead Eyes.
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