I quickly check my appearance in the reflective back of my iPod, before locking it in the glove-compartment. Perfect. After he got so close three days ago, I can’t afford to take chances. My disguise is fairly light, but it’s worked plenty of times – no reason why it shouldn’t work tonight.

My hair has changed from a light blonde-brown to glossy black, with pale blue and purple streaks, and I’ve cut it short and choppy, completing it with a cute black bow clip. My makeup is simple; a sweep of black eyeliner round each eye with a smudge out to each side, with just a little silver shadow, and silvery lip-gloss, as well as coloured contact lenses to change my normal colour from blue to deep green. But it’s the clothes that complete the look: black hip-hugging jeans, black stiletto knee-high boots and a black corset-style top, with silver bracelets and rings, as well as silver earrings in the shape of Celtic daggers decorated with glass beads (a cute accessory, but with a practical use as well).

Oh, and a silver knife strapped to my calf inside my left boot. Just in case.

The bouncer on the door looks me up and down (this is getting repetitive) before finally letting me in. I know for a fact he’s scoping my ass as I walk past, but I see no reason to discourage this if it helps me get what I want. Once I’m inside the club, my instincts are instantly on high alert. This is a known vamp hangout, a place where they find their victims and lure them out back so they can... Well, you get the idea.

My prey is at the bar, chatting to a pretty girl about my age. Hard to tell from this distance with the strange lighting, but I’m pretty sure she’s human. Easing through the throng, I get to the bar and take a seat, perusing the bottles behind as if I’m choosing my drink. Of course, I’m not actually going to drink anything. I can’t risk my judgement or perceptions being impaired. When I complete my mission, then I’ll celebrate, but until then, I’ve got to keep my mind clear.

“Hey.” Someone speaks behind me; I turn to see a young man, a few years older than myself and not entirely unattractive. “You want some company?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” I turn away, but he puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me back round.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that...” He grins, running his eyes over my chest and legs.

“Take your hand off me.” I don't raise my voice, but something in my tone makes him back off.

He seems about to protest, but walks away, muttering something I don't bother to listen to. My attention is fully focused on the man standing five feet away. He seems to have lost the girl though; he’s standing alone, leaning on the bar and pretending to sip at what looks like a JD and Coke. Feeling my gaze on him, he turns his head and catches my eye. I see a spark of interest, but nothing to show he recognises me.

Showtime.
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It’s amazing what a little makeup and tight clothing can do. It takes barely five minutes of furtive glances and smiles before he’s interested, then a subtle beckon as I get up and walk towards the back door.

I count eleven seconds before he follows me out of the door, then another three before his lips are locked on mine and he pushes me against the wall. I can tell he’s done this a thousand times before; he’s confident, hands all over my neck, my ass, holding my hips closer. I can feel his lip-piercings, cold against my skin and take the initiative, leaning closer and grasping a handful of his hair. He takes this as an act of passion and I feel him smile, then spin him around so that he’s the one against the wall. It’s a well known fact that men love it when women take control, and this man, human or not, is no exception. He growls lightly, not breaking the kiss, as I bend my left leg, raising it so my knee is resting against the wall and grazing his hip, in the same movement unsheathing the silver blade hidden inside my boot.

“Don’t make a sound,” I say softly, pressing the blade against the side of his neck, my right hand still gripping a handful of his hair.

He stares back balefully, but keeps his mouth shut. Smart move.

I don't bother with wooden stakes or holy water; neither of them works. No, the only way to kill a vamp is a silver blade to the heart or decapitation. To torture one you need to get more creative. I’ve heard silver-nitrate injections are highly effective.

“How many are there?”

He doesn't reply, but just stares at me, his eyes filled with contempt. I’m slightly impressed, despite myself. He has to know that one sideways jerk of my hand and the wall behind him would have a new colour scheme.

I press the blade a little harder; a trickle of dark blood runs down his neck and stains the collar of his shirt. “How many?”

“Fuck you.”

I laugh quietly, keeping the knife on him but removing my other hand from his hair, reaching instead to my ear, removing an earring. Using my nail, I break the little glass sphere at the top of the earring and let the drops of liquid run down the minute blade, then touch the needle-sharp point to the skin just above his collar-bone. His eyes follow it, but his expression betrays nothing as I prepare to drive the point through his skin, releasing the only substance capable of causing a vampire excruciating pain into his bloodstream.

But then, his expression changes. His face still holds a look of contempt and hatred, but now his eyes hold something else.

Triumph?

I barely have time to register that fact before something smacks into my back, knocking me to the ground. I land with a barely audible ‘thud’, already rolling onto my feet, the knife still clutched tightly in my hand. Unfortunately, I don’t see the third man behind me; he grabs my upper arms, holding me with a strength that couldn’t be attributed to a human. Before I can struggle, or scream, he finds a pressure point on the side of my neck and squeezes until I black out.

Notes

Chapter 2! :) Hope you liked, please let me know if you did, or if you didn't, what would you change?

Thanks ^_^