Night's Crimson Veil - Part 4

Night's Crimson Veil - Part 4

A lithe, pale entity clothed in a short, black silk dress stood on Melisande’s doorstep. What would have been an intricate lace hem was tattered. Its head drooped down, masking its face with flowing black hair. Caught in its cold white hand was a scarlet ribbon. Slowly, it lifted its head, exposing its feminine features. Her face was twisted in a malevolent grin. A shrill cry rang out from the back of the crowd.

“It- she killed the detective!” the rogue’s vermillion eyes dilated, and in a split second, she was behind the speaker, pearlescent teeth poised delicately against the carotid artery. The woman who had screamed stood stiff, not daring to breathe. The ghoul’s grip loosened, and the woman foolishly relaxed. A moment later, she was dead. he rest of the onlookers gawked at the gruesome scene. They had lost any hope of escape, so they stood; insensitive, unresponsive, numb.

Suddenly, like an assassin, the sun’s soft, light gold rays snuffed out the eastern stars. A man who had been locked in the vampire’s grasp fell to the ground, shocked but alive. It had disappeared without a trace. Not one of the fifty people there even saw it move, but it was gone. The entire district breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief despite the horror of the previous night. However, the thought that the country’s top investigator was now presumed dead lingered in their minds.

When Melisande awoke, she was not lying in the street as she had expected when she fell. She was face up on the hard oak floor of her apartment office. Propping herself up on her forearms, she glanced around the room. Everything was as it had been. Everything, except for her. She caught her reflection in the glass of a bookcase door. A long, red-brown streak ran across her face. Her heart skipped a beat, and she got to her feet and up the stairs in a flash.

For the first time in her career, Melisande was horrified. Staring into the mirror, she realized her hands were stained as well. Her hair was let down, and her night dress was tattered at the hem. The strangest of all were her eyes: encircling her wide pupils were thin rings of red, shooting tiny tendrils of color into the usual gold color. Her breathing became rapid as she realized the grisly truth: she was the vampire. No, she was a vampire.

Everything was made clear now. Her last case involving vampires must have went even more horribly wrong than originally thought: the flashes she experienced were a part of transforming from human to monster. The period in which she had blacked out, she must have been a vampire. Having made her revelation, she rushed to the apartment bed, gathered her things, and left Railing in secret.

That day, world-renowned paranormal investigator Melisande LeBlanc was pronounced dead; slaughtered by the unfortunate city of Railing’s own vampire. Although, in the years passed since Melisande’s disappearance, not another creature has tormented Railing again.