"Hope" by H D Leonard

The shadows themselves watch me, their eyes burrowing straight to my soul. Icy shivers dance down my spine. I try desperately to force down the terror that threatens to consume me as I step through the dimly lit streets.

Fear is my enemy, not the demons that dwell in the darkness who cannot touch me as long as I remain calm. Nervously I reach up and touch the tiny crucifix around my neck, trying to take comfort from a god I am not sure if I believe in. My other hand curling around the knife in my pocket yet neither seems to bring any reassurance.

Neither metal nor faith seems a potent enough weapon against the immortal monsters that I am meant to be stalking, perhaps because I am all to aware that I am not the true hunter.

Vampires walk amongst us, yes laugh if you like, call me insane, perhaps I am. But then you would be crazy if you had seen what I have seen, if you knew what I know.

I'm going to die tonight, I saw the knowledge etched on the faces of those that trained me. In the world of vampire hunters, it's sink or swim and they expect me to plummet like a lead balloon.

What hope have I against creatures that have lived for centuries?

The shadows shift and swirl, slowly creatures emerge from their depths, human and yet not so. Predatory eyes glowing wicked red, claws and fangs shining all too brightly in the dull light.

Panic grips me dragging me under. I struggle, in vain, to throw off it's frozen hold, trying hopelessly to calm myself down. As long as I stifle my emotions the demons cannot harm me, for it is fear that they feed on, not blood as most believe.

Like vultures to carrion they swarm around me.

This is it. I'm dead.

I tilt my head back, gazing up at the stars, flinging my arms wide. Now the moment is here, terror has flown. I've known ever since that day twelve moons ago when the hunters took me in that I would die like this.

I taste their confusion as they watch me, wondering if this is some sort of trap, wondering what I am doing.

One prods me with a long, bony finger. I gaze down, stomach churning at the sight of the bottomless hollows that serve it as eyes, try as I might I cannot look away, they pull me down deeper and deeper, trying to invoke fear within me, but suddenly I am aware of the fact I am holding the knife in my hand, the touch of cold steel breaking the spell. What use is this weapon against creatures who can heal as easily as I blink? Almost as useless as a wooden stake.

They are true immortals, fire is the only way to destroy them, and even then nothing is left to chance. Ashes scattered to the four winds, to ensure that the monster cannot reform.

Yet here I stand, amongst them, without so much as a match, unable to do anything but stare at them.

Then just as quickly as they appeared they scatter back into the shadows leaving nothing but the stench of death in their wake.

"You will want to be dropping that knife, I think," melodic tones chime out from the darkness, I do so just as the most frightfully beautiful creature I have ever seen steps out of the darkness.

Sound of metal clangs against stone as the knife hits the road.

I stare, awe-struck at the being that stands before me, and all my doubts begin to disappear, I whisper one word, I cannot gasp out any more, "who?"

It laughs at my question, eyes glittering under the street lights, and murmurs one word, barely audible, "hope."