This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
by Jackie Ivie
A Vampire Assassin League Novella
“We Kill for Profit”
5th in series
The man went down easy. The woman…he had to hunt.
Garrick shoved the bow over one shoulder, his rifle onto the other, and pulled the night goggles off, as well. He didn’t need them to hunt down a wounded vampire. Even in a dark marshy swamp amidst damp rot and leeches. Relying on his eyes would get him killed. He’d use his vampire side.
Garrick was one of the lucky ones, half-turned; a hunter who’d tasted vampire blood and reaped the rewards: Heightened senses; superior strength and agility; lack of emotion; dearth of soul. The others could relate which vampire they’d tasted and when. He seemed to have been born with it.
He passed the man already turning skeletal, his good looks rotting as they slipped away. That’s what a vampire looked like once speared through the heart: ugly; decayed; dead. Garrick gave the corpse a brief glance before moving on. This one didn’t look more than a century old, at best. That was disappointing, akin to taking a calf when hunting a rutting stag. Garrick angled his head and slid beneath a curtain of weeping willow, masking each step to the swish of water, shaking off any lingering thought of the man’s youth and lack of skill. A dead vampire was a dead vampire. Besides…the mate might be older.