(This part mostly follows Aaron Schwars point of view, so I wrote it in the third person, wasn't sure how to swap from first to third, so I just did it.)
Aaron Schwars limped into his office building, his clothes disheveled and his body in pain. [i]That little punk! I shouldn't have underestimated him![I] He was right to think that. Martin was wanted for murder at the age of fifteen. He had never wanted to end up the way he did, but that didn't matter. He was a blood sucker, and now it was Aaron's job to finish him off.
Aaron is a hunter, paid by certain members of society to seek out and kill vampires for varying reasons, sometimes for their blood, which enhances ones ability to think clearly and amplifies the senses, other's want revenge, some just hate Martins kind. Aaron hunted for a cause, he wanted a world without them.
In this case, Aaron was doing a job in exchange for a secret project of his own. A man named Mr. Grey had contacted him about hunting down a kid named Martin Thorton. He may have got lucky and spotted him this morning. He matched the description almost perfectly, dark hair, either long or cut short, pale, about five foot nine. He even had a matching bite mark. It was almost indefinitely his target.
Aaron signed in to the office and made his way to the elevator. "You okay Mr. Shwars?" his intern asked when he reached his room. "I'm fine, just had a run in with a moving vehicle," he said jokingly. "Now Mrs. Ray, I need you to leave for a moment. You know my job requires secrets," he said as he reached into his desk for a shot of morphine. He didn't want to admit it, but he was an addict. He always blamed his job, but he knew the real reason deep down. He had to stifle some of his hatred, and this was his preferred method.
Aaron made a call to his daughter. She was daughter the reason he did what he did. She was a Pranic. Someone who is forced to feed off of someone else's energy. It's what happens when normal people and vampire's have children. He didn't want anyone else to suffer like her. He wanted revenge against those deceitful leeches, filthy blood drinkers. His call was for business purposes, he needed Anne to hunt down this Scottish punk. He was in no state to go chasing someone twice as fast, just as strong, and able to detect his emotions.
"Hello?"
"It's me, Anne I need your help. Come by my office when you get the chance,".
"Are you okay dad? You don't sound well!"
"Yeah, yeah, just hurry, sorry but there's someone else calling,"
"Okay, love you dad,".
Aaron picked up the other line. "Hey is this Mr. Schwars?", the man on the other end said. Aaron recognized him as Mr. Grey. He didn't know much about him, just that he got things done. "Yeah, any word on the medicine?" Aaron responded, his voice displaying a bit of excitement.
"Yes, it's made. You'll have to get it to The Aid yourself, where you want it dropped off?"
"Room 1408 of Burkes & Burkes, just off of East St."
"Okay, you think they'll take the bait?"
"Their desperate, they will. Anyway, I'll talk to you later, I have to go,".
******
It's starting to get dark and I need to find my bag before whoever is after me finds it. I don't know how they found me, or who "They" is, I just need my bag. It has my notebook in it, and my notebook has everything I know about the man I am after compiled into one neat book. I don't know if it is true, but I am led to believe that if I can kill him, I can end my own curse. It's a win-win, I get revenge against the man who ruined me and my mothers life, and I my not have to feed ever again. If someone finds that bag before meq and starts reading shit about vampires, there is no telling what they might do, either they will take it to heart and try to find some sparkling Jacob, or they'll think whoever owned it was crazy. I just can't lose that book. I walked into the Starbucks and it wasn't their, so either I left it in the taxi, someone stole it, or they have it here.
"Scuse me miss, but would you happen to know if anyones found a black duffel bag in here?" I asked the lady at the counter. She seemed to recognize me, but I'm not sure if it is from this morning, or if the new's about Scotland has reached here yet. I hope not, or else it's off to Mexico. It's not like I wanted to do what I had too, but this world isn't big enough for more of my kind.
"No, I don't think so, let me ask the manager real quick," she said politely. It wasn't her voice that gave her away, it was my extra sense. "Look, don't take another step. I am going to leave this building, and you will not call the police, or I will remember you," I said calmly. She looked like she was about to scream. I sensed a lot of panic, fear, and now I know that I am on the national news for murder.
Her eye's widened to about the size of saucers, but she wasn't looking at me. "Oh--- My-- G-Go-God!" she screamed, I heard glass shattering behind me and turned around swiftly to see a girl with dark hair, pale skin, and a shotgun aimed at my face. What was even stranger, she was with The Aid. She wore a sweat band with a red cross around her neck.
The Aid is a group that is out to help vamps that don't want to live the way that keeps them alive. They run blood drives so that we don't have to kill to drink. They have labs that are working on some cures. They even help to cover up some of our feeding. This girl didn't look quite so nice.
"I think I'll help myself before I kill you," she said as she moved closer to me, gun still aimed at my head. "By the way, if you move, the lady behind the counter will end up covered in brains," her words were more spat than said. "So your a pranic? Ya lucky bas. Stuck up just cause you have better table manners," I said, sweat beading up at my forehead.
For those of you who don't know what it's like to be held at gunpoint, it's scary as hell. It's like one of those dreams where you try to run, but you just keep slipping, and you get that weak sensation in your legs. She didn't respond to what I said at all, which just scared me more. I slipped in a prayer to St. Margaret as she placed a hand upon my neck. It was cold like my own.
Pranics feed off of your pranna, or qi, or energy, whatever you want to call it. They are the stuck up bitches of vampire-kind. They think they are better than everyone else because they don't have to drink. This girl obviously wasn't any different.
At first I was relieved when nothing happened, but then I felt the draining begin. It felt like some one was pulling hot needles out of my neck, while beating my skull with a mallet. The worst part was, it made me need to drink. I was hoping not to have to for a few days, but that wasn't going to happen.
"Look, stop..." I muttered feebly, I was growing too weak to move on. When she did let go, I felt like sleeping, I was exhausted, not just from the draining, but also because I had only had naps in the past three days. She drove the butt of the gun into my skull, which actually was what saved my life. When she made this move, I realized that she no longer had the end loaded with a slug pointed at my skull. I whipped around and threw a backfist, striking her in the jaw, I then grasped her arms and drove my forehead into her nose, blood dripped down her face. I placed the barrel of the gun between my elbow and my armpit and took hold of the stock, using leverage against her I pried the gun from her grasp, unfortunately, her finger escaped the trigger guard, otherwise it would have been broken.
She countered quickly with a hook to my kidney, her second shot was a kick aimed for my groin, which luckily I blocked. I had to get away from her, I wasn't sure if she had another weapon she might pull on me, not too mention the lady at the counter had already ran, probably to call the cops. I drove the butt of the shotgun into her throat, it didn't quite hit her dead on, her chin helped to block it, the blow was weak because I needed too drink, but still, it worked for my purposes.
She folded over and set to coughing, while I ran out of the store. I needed to ditch the gun, not something you want to run around with when half the people on the street had just seen you kick someones teeth in. Shoving through the growing crowd, I dodged into a back ally tossing the gun into a dumpster I took a moment to try and pick up the girls scent. To my dismay, she was downwind of me at the moment.
Growing exhausted, I ran out of the other end of the alley and tried to blend with the crowd. Panting heavily, I entered into a nice looking hotel, marble floors, shiny chandeliers, rich folks in fancy clothes, it was top notch, which is why I chose it. If she was anything like everyone else who I've been chased by, she would look for me on the streets, and wouldn't pay as much attention to a nice place like this. She'd expect me to hide in some dump.
"You got hourly rates?" I asked the guy at the front desk. He looked at me like I was garbage, which I was used to, but it still made me mad. "Do ya?" I repeated my question, growing frustrated and tired. "Yes, but the question is, can you pay?" he said snobbishly. "Would I be asking if I couldn't? Ya bas!" I reached in my wallet for one of my fake drivers licenses, another bonus provided by The Aid, and paid the guy the money, just as I spotted the dark haired lady passing by the door, I was right, she didn't even glance inside.
My room was on a middle floor, and it was beautiful. The bed was comfortable, filled with soft down feathers, the TV was a huge flat screen, and the water bottle's had some classy price tags on them, a sure sign I'm in a fancy place. I learned a few years ago, when I was thirteen, that I could eat certain foods with animal blood in them, to keep me going till I got a chance to drink. I ordered some pressed duck off the room service menu, not my favorite dish, but it would do. I only had three hours in the room, but I can't sleep when I'm in need of blood, or I risk going into a coma, not a good thing by any standards, but still, night was falling, and I was feeling more awake.
The day had been a total waste. I only succeeded in gaining attention and losing my notebook. Not too mention, I now need to drink. I still think I may be able to go about eight or so hours without having to. I need to find a blood truck, hopefully they might be members of The Aid so I won't have the guilt that murder brings to burden me while I search. If not, I will have to take drastic measures.
