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“What operation?” I ask rhetorically, heading to the seemingly abandoned school building. The door is locked, and there’s even a padlock over it, but I channel my lust, and the chains crack in my fingers.
I would have expected his company by now, as I make a good way down this hallway. The carpet is all stripped, there are dismantled drinking fountains, and the fluorescent lights above me flicker the kinds of hospital-neutral faded white that make you feel truly uncomfortable.
The rooms are all empty - every one. It isn’t unusual for this hour, but the dust that coats my senses as I look into each is strange. Something has been holing up here, leaving traces of skin and hair residue that have built up over time, but I’m not sure what.
At the end of the hallway, I pass what used to be a cafeteria - tables all overturned, chairs at once stacked have now scuffed up the floor from being violently and repeatedly tossed aside. Vending machines are full of human treats that turn my stomach, but as I lock eyes with the probably decayed Nutri-grain bars, I think of Quinn, and how I always see them in her pantry.
“Stay focused,” I repeat to myself, in a mock imitation of Ren’s growl. “You can’t forget the case.”
I chuckle to myself, then I hear a whisper. It’s discordant and distant, but as I look around me, waiting for it to recreate itself, I know what I heard.
My footsteps cannot physically be quieter, as I ease into the gymnasium, where I think I heard the sounds emitting from. A seemingly high-school aged couple is making out on a set of bleachers, no doubt escaping their parents.
I’m disappointed that our case has led to yet another hole - another dead lead - but I am also relieved, because now, I can head back to Quinn’s. Maybe tonight, I’ll just quietly observe her, satisfying myself with the thought of her touch. That will only intensify the release when I can authentically claim her again.
But as I approach the teens, about to tell them to return to their parents, I realize with apprehension that theirs is not the only scent in this room. In fact, there are multiple. It seems I’m not the only stalker here.
“Clear out!” I try to shout to them, hoping to scare them away. But as I encounter the kind of youthful teenage rebellion I only faintly remember, a shadow leaps into view, followed by several more.
I sprint forward, attempting to dissuade them - trying to reach the new victims first.
One of them - a girl, who faintly resembles Quinn - reaches the couple before I can, pinning the boy to the ground. She dives into him, impaling his jugular, but with all my strength, I pry her off, as he bleeds, the scent driving the other vampires insane with bloodlust.
This feels like a confrontation I actually cannot win, before Ren bashes through the door, carrying a crossbow loaded with wooden stakes.
“Did somebody order a crucifixion?” He yells.
The vampires still seem tempted, but it is still in their best interest to survive. So one by one, they dash out the metal double doors.
“Go!” Ren yells, noticing the bleeding victim on the floor. He rushes to his aid, as the girl looks on in panic.
“We just wanted to get away-” She says. “I didn’t mean-”
Her voice fades into the background, as I tear through the double doors. The vampires dash into a deep forest, and I give chase, rushing through the overgrowth. I know that it’s my duty to protect civilians like those inside - prevent more victims from cropping up.
I use my sense of smell to guide me, tearing through the forest, leaping over one branch and tearing through another, as the pine needles crush beneath my feet.
But my senses are overwhelmed - distracted - by something else.
The scent of perfume.
I know that I need to focus, but my mind is enticed by it. It calls out to me. Soon, it’s all I can smell, and the scents of the other vampires are ignorable background noise.
My legs guide me past the forest, to a busy town street, where I dash, ignoring traffic, as automobiles honk and nearly crash into me. The scent of Quinn is all I can fixate on.
As the scent becomes larger in my nose, I am hunched over, staring at a woman who is not Quinn, enjoying an ice cream cone. She looks disturbed. I feel cheated.
I need to find the real Quinn.
The vampires linger on my mind, but they are no longer my priority. I tear through the city streets, running until I find the bar. I long to crush her beneath my weight - feel her under me - taste her in my mouth.
But as I stand outside the bar, taking in the smells of the evening, and the rush of the cool breeze on my skin, I realize that she isn’t here either.
My phone rings, and I pick it up on instinct.
“Where the hell are you?” Ren asks. “Did you find our suspects?”
I do not answer. Instead, I look around me, questioning how long I have been running.
