When a Vampire Slayer gets Desperate

Chapter 1: I Meet the Motel Waiter

A girl looked solemnly out of the train window she was seated next to. It was a fairly warm day in September, and the changing leaves of the aspen trees made the all of the hillsides look like firework displays on dark green backgrounds.

Where she was headed was a town by the name of Louisville, in Northern California. It was a pretty place, with plenty of sight-seeing spots featuring old native ruins in the middle of huge pine forests, but she wasn't going there for a vacation.

The meadows sped by and silently, the girl reached into her sleeve and began to fiddle with something, turning the object back and forth in her hands absentmindedly. It was obvious to see that she was distracted by a something in her mind. Her deep sapphire eyes were glazed over and staring into space, her hands moving at there own will.

Passengers who passed her by couldn't help but do a double take at her. Sure, she was somewhat pretty; she always thought she had her mother's sharp face but her dad's distinct eyes, but that wasn't what startled them. It might have been the scar which ran along her cheek bone. Perhaps it was the dark half-circles which made a home under her tired eyes. But taken together, they made her look several years older and a bit more intimidating than her true self might have been.

She sat alone. She came with nothing more than her luggage. No parents, no siblings, no adults of any kind. She found that she worked better when she traveled alone. Others thought it was suspicious.

Suddenly, the train came to a halt and snapped the girl out of her trance-like state. Glancing up from the window, she realized they had arrived and began to watch passengers unload their baggage and children from the cars, quickly sliding the object back into her sleeve. Patiently, she waited for all of them to leave, her eyes drifting over each person as they passed by. Then she grabbed her duffel bag, slung her backpack onto her shoulders, and left the station.

Rather quickly, she merged with the people who bustled along Main Street, navigating her way through the crowds, her pace slightly faster than the people surrounding her. A lady nearly yelled at her for bumping into her child. A store worker gave her a dirty look when she tipped over a stand and didn't put it back up.

Eventually, she came to a small motel on the skirts of City Center. It was an old building, with the light beige paint beginning to peal off and the windows in desperate need of a scrub. The girl entered the lobby, not hesitating to stride to the front desk.

The desk clerk barely even looked up from her magazine before handing her the keys to a room reserved for Selena Silverstill, a name that was familiar to the girl, but definitely not her own.

She reached the room in minutes, where she tossed both of her pieces of luggage onto the bed and then fished through her backpack for the letter and photo she had received from her new employer.

He had sent the letter a little less than a couple weeks ago, but it had taken her most of that time to reply. What he had asked her to do, she had done many times before. It had, in fact, become so familiar to her, it was her main (and only) job. But this particular employment offering was different from the others in a way she couldn't explain. It wasn't the usual hit-and-run, the usual kill-and-leave. No, this one was going to be a very different case, indeed.

Holding both of the pieces of paper in her hands, she read through the letter again, making sure she had all the facts straight. It read:

Heather,

Your time is short and so is my patience. But your reward will be quite large. In the quarter million range, if I'm not mistaken. Find this one, and end him. He has killed a relative of mine and I wish to stop this monster before he strikes again.

Your Employer

She had received many requests similar to this one in the past, but a few things bugged her about this one in particular.

First, it made her somewhat uneasy that he never put his name. It had always been "Your Employer", as if he knew she would take the job from the very beginning. But money was money and he had a lot of it. And second, what unsettled her the most, was the extreme difference between the letter's description and the picture.

Every time she compared the picture of the target to the letter's description, she always puzzled herself. Usually, the pictures were hastily shot and looked as though they had been taken by security cameras, their subjects somewhere in their very late teens or early 20s. But this one.... This one was a school picture of a boy who might be in his mid teens, his smiling face looking like the exact opposite of a blood-thirsty murderer.

'Focus' she thought to herself sternly. 'You weren't hired to make assumptions.' Quickly, she folded the letter and picture and placed them in her pocket. It didn't matter what her targets looked like. It was her job to kill them, not to judge their looks. This wasn't a beauty pageant.

Heather searched her backpack again and came out with a small, easier to carry pack and her favorite leather cut-off jacket. As she slid her arms into its broken-in sleeves, she heard a small 'thud' in the hallway. She spun on her heels, her fists up, a dagger appearing in her hand as if she had summoned it from the air.

Her muscles were suddenly tense. Adrenaline poured into her veins. Cautiously, she approached her door, her footsteps light as a cat's, and placed a hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, she flung the door open, her dagger poised to strike whatever lay on the other side.

A boy around her age, near 15 or 16, was floundering on the floor. His hands were trying to pick himself up, but his waiter's apron kept messing with his feet. It was a little amusing to watch him, and the girl let out a small breath of relief, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. She slid the dagger back into her sleeve, where it had been for the past few hours.

Finally, he stopped trying to get up and just sat there. He stared up a the girl with embarrassed green eyes.

"Uh... Hi." He mumbled. His cheeks were beginning to turn a little pink. His eyes flicked up at her, then away, as if they couldn't decide where to look at.

"Hey." The girl replied lightly. "What's with all the noise?"

"I... um.... I was.... uh..."

"You were what?" Heather was a bit impatient with these types of things. She didn't like excuses; she just wanted an answer.

"I was kinda... snooping... on you." He looked away nervously and began to pick at his apron.

She blinked, a bit surprised. Snooping? Suspicion was rising up in her again, but she forced an outward look of calmness.

"Why?" She asked simply

"Well, I work here because my mom is the owner and she says I need to help out more often. But not many people come to this place. I get bored. The only person who stays here at the moment is a dude named Kyle who isn't very fun, even though he's my age and all. He says he has parents who are staying somewhere else, but I never see them around. And since you look like your my age, I thought it would be cool if-" The girl narrowed her eyes at the name of 'Kyle'.

"Kyle" She said, her voice turning intense. "Kyle who? What's his last name?"

"His last name?" The boy didn't seem very hurt from being interrupted so suddenly. "I think it's Hunte, but I'm not exactly sure. He's only been here for a couple weeks but-"

"Is he still here? What room does he stay in?"

"Uh, he just left about five minutes ago. He said he was going to the Street Shops."

"Street Shops. Thanks. I have to go now." The girl turned to leave.

"Wait!" The boy said, finally managing to find his feet. "I didn't catch your name."

She smiled. "That's because I didn't throw it... But you can call me Heather."

"Cool, my name's Tyler, but you can call me Tye. Maybe I'll see you again later?"

"Maybe." Heather rushed into her room, grabbed the pack, and left in a hurry. She seemed a little anxious to find  this 'dude', but that was only because Kyle Hunte was the name of her target. No biggie, of course.