(81) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

He's Vampyre all right.

I follow him into the city. Ready to take him out as soon as I have final proof. Not just on my friend's word.

Watch him find a victim. Tears his throat out viciously as he feeds.

I hesitate. Then take myself in hand. I will not let this happen again. My palms are sweaty, and my forehead. I wipe the sweat away. Gripping my sword. Mastering my fear—at least for now.

I attack.

And the bastard vanishes. Poof. Gone. Not invisible. I'd still see him then. Just...gone.

I feel relief and anger. Angry at being relieved. But I tell myself that next time...

I return to my friend's place. Friend, acquaintance, which ever. Plan on dealing with the Vampyre come morning.

The sun rises and so do I.

I need to get into the Vampyre's lair. Get past his ghoul.

I'm pacing. Waiting until this bedroom community empties.

My friend commiserates. Tells me, "Soon enough the men folk will be gone, kids in school, and the wives watching their soaps. Don't know what they see in that garbage."

Garbage. I head to the kitchen. Pull the trash bag from the container. Go around the house. Filling it. Grab my coat.

He chuckles. "I knew you were good for something other than killing them."

"Camouflage," I tell him.

"Not if you go out with that coat on, cause you'll stick out like a sore thumb."

Good point. This is not the city. Drop it after removing my sword.

"Umm, Trevor, not too cool either."  He leaves. Comes back with a sweater like he wears.

I sheathe my sword across my back. Cover it with the sweater.

"Lumpy but you'll pass." He snickers.

I smile. Seeing the humor in it. Fearless Vampyre hunter in an old man sweater.

Grabbing the trash I head outside.