Long shadows stretch across the large, seemingly abandoned office building as the sun set in the distance. The moving shadows cast by the branches bouncing in the wind put me even more on edge, my eyes glancing to and fro as I stood at the entrance of the ten-story building.
Have you ever seen an abandoned office building? They’re usually pretty cool. I follow this “abandoned places in Texas” Facebook group and this subreddit called “AbandonedPorn” because I’ve always fantasized about exploring old run-down locations, and I have done so from time to time. Don’t judge me—I didn’t come up with that name. When I was like ten, my family frequently went camping in New Mexico. We’d load up the camping trailer and we’d somehow always end up in little camping spots nearby these old buildings that were falling apart. Sometimes a cabin. Sometimes a hotel that got burned down by a fire or something. Maybe it’s just the fond childhood memories.
This place invokes no fond memories. In fact, there are few places I’ve been as ominous as this one. I shudder as I look up at the entrance to the office building, the glass that I assume used to be part of the sliding doors lying in broken pieces all over the concrete…floor? Ground? You know the thing that you step on but it’s not made out of dirt but is also sort of outside? I don’t actually know what the word is for that. “Ground” doesn’t seem right because it’s not part of the earth. But whatever. I’m gonna go with ground. Pieces of jagged glass lie all across that. I take a step forward but then pause.
You know how sometimes you’ll have this totally random memory from your past? A memory from childhood comes to mind where I was playing hide and seek with my sister and one of our friends, and I was trying to be sneaky. But I stepped on some broken glass and it sliced my foot. Instead of crying, I started trying to see what would happen if an ant tried to eat my blood. So I got a leaf and put a drop of blood from my foot on the leaf and then tried to feed it to the ant. Instead, I got the white shorts that I was wearing all bloody, and then my mom yelled at me, asking why I would do something like that. So I didn’t play with blood anymore. But the irony is that here I am hunting a creature that literally likes to suck blood from people, just like I thought the ant might do if it got onto my foot. Except, unlike then, I’m actually genuinely terrified. Vampires are no joke—and there truly is nothing like feeling the hair on your arms rise as your heart race accelerates in anticipation of the utter horror that is one of the undead. (They’re “undead” because they’re physically alive but their soul is dead, so the cliche works.)
My name is Rey, and, yeah, I’m hunting a vampire. Now before you get the wrong idea (not really sure what that idea would be, but I feel like that’s a thing people say), a vampire isn’t a fictional creature that likes bats or whatever. A vampire is actually just a human who makes a specific kind of pact with a demon. The purpose is to give them longevity and strength, but the side effect is that it causes them to have an insatiable lust for human blood on a regular occasion. That, of course, means they’re… kind of dangerous. And among the most horrifying of the evil fauna that are out there. The first time I encountered a vampire I nearly peed my pants. I still get the same deep feelings of terror any time I’m on the hunt (although I’ve not peed myself since that first time—progress).
I step cautiously through the shattered glass, mindful of the risk. My family have been Catholic vampire hunters for generations. My great-great-grandfather started it all, back when he faced down a vampire who terrorized our small Texas town. He discovered the ancient texts and rituals hidden away in the Vatican’s secret archives. Since then, we’ve sworn to protect humanity from the unholy pact these creatures—and others like them (that’s another story)—make.
The building’s interior is just as eerie as its shattered facade. Broken office furniture litters the floor, papers strewn everywhere. It’s like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie, except this is real life, and my life is anything but ordinary. Last time I saw a post-apocalyptic movie, I think it was called Mad Max and the Furry Road or something like that. I don’t really recall any furry road so I am not sure if that’s the right name, but it was about a bunch of people chasing each other in cars in a desert. I remember my brother dragged me along to the movies because he said mom wouldn’t let him see it without me (he’s younger than me) and he promised it’d be really cool, but I honestly just didn’t get the point of it. Hopefully there are no creepy guys playing guitars in here. I clutch the vial of holy water hanging around my neck, making sure it’s easily accessible.
Now, you might be wondering why I don’t just call for backup or bring a team along. Well, the answer is simple: my family has always been secretive about our calling. It’s a tightly kept tradition, passed down from parent to child. You won’t find us on any TV shows or in tabloid headlines. We’re the unsung heroes, the silent protectors…a Dark Knight. Okay, sorry, that was just funny. I couldn’t help it—I actually really like the Batman movies (but Christopher Nolan’s version, not the older ones. Sue me.). I actually have my brother to thank for that. David is kind of into sci-fi and stuff. I can’t say it’s my exact cup of tea, but the Batman trilogy actually is one of my faves. I mean seriously—who can beat Heath Ledger’s performance!? RIP Heath.
And RIP me if I don’t pay attention. I hear a faint, guttural growl echoing through the corridor. My heart quickens. The vampire is close. I inch forward, following the noise. The darkness is my ally (I guess I sort of was born in it, molded by it—human wombs are fairly dark, you know—but I guess I’m not special in that regard), as I move silently, invisible to the creature’s enhanced senses thanks to my special prayer. No, it’s not a Hail Mary. We do have more prayers than just that one, you know.
Memories of my father’s stern training sessions flood my mind. He’d always emphasize the importance of precision, of maintaining our faith. “Audrey Kate,” he’d say (he only uses my full name when he’s telling me something really serious—or when I’m in trouble, like that time a few months ago when I borrowed his car for a late-night Taco Bell run without asking), “you must never doubt the strength of your beliefs, the backing of the Saints, and the power of the cross. It’s what sets us apart from them.” Those words have been etched into my very soul. Now time to etch a stake into this lost soul.
Before you think I’m a maniac, let me tell you—vampires are lost causes. There’s no coming back from that—spiritually, I mean. Once you sell your soul to a demon and become a vampire, you’ve essentially signed away your soul. People talk about Revelation and the “mark of the beast” like it’s credit cards or social security numbers or random crap. It’s not. It’s literally just anything that involves you selling your soul away to someone—or something. So yeah, this person, whoever he was, he’s long gone.
I turn a corner and spot him, the vampire, hunched over a pile of papers. I can’t really tell why—old comics or something? I guess even vampires get bored. His pale, gaunt face and crimson-stained lips confirm his true nature. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine. A sinister grin spreads across his face, revealing elongated fangs. They don’t always look that way—they appear normal most of the time. But if they haven’t fed in a while…things can get hairy. Not furry—hairy, like in the scary sort of the word. If David were here, he’d probably say that not shaving my legs for a couple days would amount to me being “hairy and scary.” Ha ha, so funny.
A shiver runs down my spine—don’t get me wrong, fighting vampires is one of the scariest parts of everyday life (almost as bad as classes with Professor Gonzalez…don’t get me started on her), but I don’t falter. Instead, I reach for the small crucifix hanging from my belt, holding it up to ward off the foul creature. “In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” I begin, reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Latin.
Or at least that’s what I should have said. I get nervous when I’m scared and I guess sometimes I just…quip? to lighten the mood a little. So I quipped.
“Hey, uh, Dilbert is on page 4 of the funnies.” My grandfather always calls the comics “funnies.” I thought that was a funny term for them. But I guess they are funny, so “funnies” makes sense. I wonder if this vampire calls comics funnies.
The vampire laughs—I guess a win for my sense of humor?
“You’re a funny one, little girl.” He growls hungrily, eyes darting to and fro—the way the demon-possessed typically do. “I bet you’ll taste particularly delicious.”
I don’t really get this. I mean, I know vampires have a craving for blood, but doesn’t all blood basically taste the same? I have tasted my own blood if I get a cut or something (reduce, reuse, recycle! I have to do my part for the planet—I kid, although not entirely) and it just tastes like salty coppery stuff. I would think all blood basically tastes the same. But I guess I’m not a vampire, so maybe there really is a difference. I’ll have to ask a vampire sometime. Maybe today?
“Do different blood types actually taste different?” He looks stunned by my question—a little caught off guard. I guess I would be too.
He laughs at my silly but also sort of serious question. “Fool! Your antics can’t defeat the unholy power of the Devil himself.” (Spoiler: they can, and they do.) “You have no idea the height of my powers. Soon, the full force of Hell will be unleashed! And we will usher in the end of all things.”
“Like in Mad Max Furry Road?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious what the heck he’s talking about. I wonder if he watched that movie before he sold his soul to a monologuing demon.
“The what?” Now he’s genuinely confused. For a half second a part of me imagines him whipping out a flame-throwing guitar and playing a demonic tune at me. But he doesn’t, he just looks at me kind of funny. I use his confusion to my advantage.
This time I actually raise my crucifix and utter the Lord’s prayer. The vampire recoils, his hissing and growling intensifying. The power of faith courses through me, filling me with courage. I step forward, dipping my fingers into the holy water at my waist and flicking it at him. He howls in agony as the water sizzles on his skin.
“By the power of Christ, I command you to be gone!” I shout, brandishing a wooden stake. The wooden stake is a classic, but there are other ways to deal with vampires. This just happens to be one of the simplest. He lunges, but I’m faster. Years of actually doing this are surprisingly useful. But more importantly, this vampire was pretty “fresh.” By that I mean he hadn’t been a vampire for very long. That’s the opportune moment, as Captain Jack Sparrow would say. The longer the possession continues, the harder the vampire is to actually take down. The stupider demons also tend to be the ones who monologue more. The smarter ones keep a lower profile—and the dumb ones are usually the easiest to track, like this one.
With a swift motion, I plunge the stake (itself blessed by Catholic prayers and holy water) into his heart, ending his cursed existence.
The vampire does not disintegrate into ashes. That’s not a thing that happens. Instead, he just reverts into normal human form. This makes it easier for vampires to conceal their existence from normal folks, but also means that you have to be careful not to leave any DNA behind at the scene of a crime. Hence the gloves I’m wearing. And the short haircut. And vigorous brushing of said hair every morning. And a lot of things.
I take a moment to catch my breath. Another hunt completed, another threat vanquished. I can’t help but wonder, though, what it would be like to live an ordinary life, free from the shadows and secrets. But, in the words of Darth Vader, this is my destiny. And, you know what? It’s kind of cool. Scary as all get out, to be sure. I don’t think there’ll ever be a day where I get “over” the stark terror that pierces my heart every time I set eyes on one of these foul beasts. But duty calls. (No, I don’t have to go to the bathroom. I didn’t mean it like that, weirdo.) Still, I wonder what the demon/vampire meant when he said the end of all things was nigh or whatever. I mean, I know demons are typically all about doom and gloom, but usually most of them don’t really care that much about the end of the world. You know how the Bible says not even Jesus knows when that’s happening? Yeah, demons read the Bible too. There are more important things to focus on in terms of ruining people’s lives than trying to make the end of the world happen. It’s just a kind of unusual thing for a vampire to say.
So yeah. I’m Rey, and I hunt vampires, and something tells me that things are about to start getting…hairy.