All in A Day's Work

I hate the blood suckers most of all. The other are animals, they don’t have a choice, the wolves, the others. I put them down because they are a danger to my people. The bloodsuckers choose. They don’t all choose to become what they are but they don’t have to feed on people. They could live on the blood of pigs or wild beasts, some do, but they feast on man because human blood gives them a rush, it is a narcotic as well as a food source. Worst of all are those that seek it out. They have two mortal sins on whatever has become of their soul. They have committed suicide to become vampire and they murder every time they feed.

I’ve been following this one for a week. He’s smart, doesn’t draw any attention to himself, dresses real plain and has a legit night job so his hours don’t seem unusual. He’s a policeman, above reproach. So what if he is always on night duty, not many want the nights. I saw him feed on that girl in the alley, I couldn’t take him then. It made me sick, watching a murder, but they are too strong to take on when they’re awake, far stronger than a mortal man.

I made that mistake once and it cost me a friend and very nearly my own life. I was lucky, my back was broken and I was left for dead but my partner was gutted and drained of blood like livestock. The healers worked on me for months and it was a year before I could walk and another before I was strong enough to work again.

I’m outside his building now. It’s almost dawn. The gas lights go out and I douse my lantern. He should be in his casket by now; they aren’t much for staying up after they get home. No cups of tea in front of the fire place, no listening to the Victrola or reading newspapers. What do they care of our lives as long as they have their needs met.

I let myself in through a window. I’ve been here before when he has been out. You have to know where to find the casket; you have to know if there are any traps. This place is clean, he is over confident.

My weapon’s ready, my hand is steady and I am at peace. I open the casket and drive the stake home. This is the worst part, first the eyes open, then they hiss and spit, their blood boils and they melt, with a horrible stench that turns your stomach like nothing else.

His eyes flash open and he screams. He doesn’t melt he doesn’t hiss. It flashes through my mind, a decoy, the same face, the same face he’s been wearing. I’ve killed him, the innocent. I’m a murderer. I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

May God have mercy on my soul.