“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” - William Shakespeare

“Whoa…”

At my knees, peeking from the corner, was a small girl. She had been observing me since I entered, her wide eyes filled with bewildering curiosity.

“Hey there, kid,” I said, gesturing to acknowledge that her hiding skills. I’m not aware of her history in hide and seek, but she’ll need to improve if she thinks she can evade me. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated at first but eventually gathered the courage to step forward and tell me.

“D-Delilah…”

“That’s such a pretty name for such a pretty girl.”

“You have such sharp ears.”

“Yes, I do.”

She started to poke at her own teeth as if to showcase her canines to me. 

“And your teeth. Does it hurt to eat?”

“Hah, not really, but you get used to it.”

“And your eyes…they are so red.”

“I know. They let me see in the dark.”

“Like a cat?”

“Something like that…”

She was the cutest thing.

“Do you have a cat?” I asked.

“Yeah, she gets grouchy when I don’t feed her.”

“Hate to be your cat. Say…” I crouched to bring myself to eye level with her. “Don’t I frighten you?”

“A little, but you seem nice. Pretty, too, like mommy.”

“Thank you. But listen, you should be very careful out at night. Never approach people who look like me, especially with fangs. They are very bad, okay.”

“Are you bad?”

Her question made me smile.

“No, but I’m not that good either. Find your mother and hold her hand tightly, okay? And don’t ever wander too far. Nighttime can be very risky, got it?”

“…” She began to sway slightly as though restraining her words. Her large eyes met mine as I stood up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mommy says nobody is perfect. We all make mistakes. That’s why Daddy is not with us anymore. That’s why we have to make hard choices.”

“Is that right?”

“Delilah!”

I glanced down the aisle and spotted a woman with ginger-brown hair, frozen in fear, her eyes wide with alarm. She slowly gestured for her daughter to come closer, but the little girl hesitated, not quite grasping the shaky, awkward signal of “come here.”

The mother’s fearful demeanor mirrored that of the cashier, who stood rigidly in place, unsure of what to do. He simply remained there, dirtied by the wet soil that pooled between his legs. I had no intention of creating a scene; I had already come for what I wanted—one can of mocha and a bagel.

“Ring me up, would you?” is what I would say, but I doubt he was looking at me like any average customer. Especially given the scene. “Keep the change, and give that girl and her mum a pair of scarves and gloves first, yeah. And two of those beanies you got back there, can you, and whatever else they want. It’s going to be cold tonight.”

I watched as the girl’s mother tried to negotiate with the cashier over some leftovers he was about to throw away. Combining their conversation with what her daughter had mentioned, it became clear that they were having a tough time. I genuinely hope their situation gets better and that the mother understands the message. Part of me wanted to stick around and offer help, but given their reaction, I doubt it would have been easy. It seldom is.

The reason I’m out here at this hour is work. A quaint spot called Goldie’s Den. It had turned up on my radar due to some rather interesting rumors.

“Hey, who the hell is that?”

“Oi, hold up!”

“Hello, gentlemen, let’s chat.”

Thanks to the helpful staff outside, I got in without any trouble. If I were to leave a review, I’d give them five stars for VIP service. They were also nice enough to lend me their security badge.

I’m not much of a club kind of gal. The music, the flashing lights, and the close proximity of bodies rubbing against each other make it the perfect scenario for anyone to hide in plain sight and grab a bite. Makes for an optimal feeding ground for vampires.

The one I was after, in particular, was an individual who works at the Velvet Heights—a fancy, ritzy place uptown on the west side of Hallow Grove City. Being the weekend meant all sorts of people were out. One, two, three—ah, who knows and who cares, as by the end of the night, plenty of people were going to go somewhere that ain’t their homes. Sounds like a recipe to catch quite a few fish out of water.

Using the crowd, I blended in, moving along the sea of individuals to find the person I was looking for—a young man who looked to be no older than his mid to late twenties. No one was the wiser, as they didn’t need to be. He was already taking to a drink. Top-shelf, pricey stuff by a girl named Macie Beckford, a judge’s daughter who was my contact.

She is a sweet-looking girl in her mid-twenties. Cute, I guess, with her long brown hair, so I can see why he wants to go for another kiss. Too bad the moment his lips moved in on her neck, I swung. His fangs plunged deep into my arm before I stabbed my free hand and its nails into his side. He coiled in pain as his gaze traced over his shoulder and behind to find me.

“Shhhhh, let’s not make a scene, shall we? Macie, you alright?”

She was out like a light. Clearly, too much blood had been taken.

I twisted my arm, pressing it against my suspect’s side, before guiding us to the back. Since it was after hours, the kitchen was empty, creating an ideal setting for a private conversation.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I slapped him across the face, his jaw dislocating on impact.

“I ask the questions. First one, why did you not kill the girl back there?”

The young man cackled. My curiosity had gotten the better of me. Given her complexion, Macie is going to be out for the better half of a day from recovering. He could have ended her life at the rate he was drinking her, yet he was taking his time, enjoying her. Savoring the euphoric sensation it brought him. 

“Because, detective, I was seeing how long it would take for you to arrive.”

The door leading to the dance floor cracked open, welcoming a few more people to join us.

“Kitchen’s closed.”

They paid no attention to my words. They merely moved about, ensuring neither exit would see any activity tonight. I, however, cannot say the same.

“You don’t get it. There’s a hit out on your head. You’ve been snooping too much, and someone wants to send a message.”

“I am flattered.”

And here I thought I was being discreet. Oh well, I guess we should move on. I’m unafraid of violence—in fact, I’ve somewhat grown accustomed to it. Unlike my job, it’s straightforward and simple.

Without any warning, they lunged at me. I managed to evade one while grabbing for a frying pan. One whack dented the steel, sending one into a neighboring wall. From behind, another came to sink their fangs into my shoulder while another sucker punched me.

A kick sufficed to provide space between us. I changed priorities, reaching for the brute who didn’t understand personal space. With a firm grasp, I heard a crunch. Their skull cracked, blood seeping through and between my fingers. It wouldn’t be enough to stop him, but it would slow him down until he recovered from the injuries. From the pieces, I plucked a fragment of the skull and dropped it into the eye of the one charging me.

Rolling over the island, I reached for some knives. Several deep slashes to key tendons left the next few staggering. Before I knew it, the first ones I had taken care of were already beginning to heal from their wounds. Let me spare you the bloody details, but I painted that kitchen red. Dealing with a vampire is messy work. Dealing with several, well, that’s just a party. Trust me when I say that, so to be brief, there was a lot of prying of fangs, breaking bones, snapping necks, plucking eyes, and pulling hair—oddly enough, there was too much of that and lots of stabbing. Kicking, too, and punching until I could manage to get the kill shot on them. Go for the heart. Always go for the heart. Take that still-beating puppy out, and bite into it if you have to. Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty. You know you got them when they start turning into ashes.

With the ribble-rabble taken care of, I turned my attention to the one still tied down with a gaunt expression. 

“Right then,” I said, combing my fingers through my soaking wet hair. “You said something about a message, right? So let’s send one.”