“You’re a goddamn retard, you know that? I can’t believe you dragged me out here for this,” Sonetto snapped, hoisting the overstuffed bag Heather had shoved into her arms before scrambling through the narrow crack in the brick wall.

  “I swear, this will be worth it!” Heather’s voice bounced off the close, grimy walls, excitement bleeding into every word. “There’s an old vampire hideout here—I’m telling you, I read about it.”

  Sonetto's hands clenched tighter around the bag, her knuckles already whitening. “I fucking hate you,” she muttered, pulling off her sunglasses with a hiss of annoyance. “You’ve done some stupid shit before, but this? This is next-level idiocy.”

  She ducked through the gap after Heather, her voice rising as she followed. “This is the exact kind of tom-fuckery that got you bit in the first place.” Sonetto coldly said.

  Heather, halfway into the ruined room, chose whats called ‘selective deafness’. “That was ages ago,” she called over her shoulder. “Can’t even believe you're still on about that.”

  They emerged into a low, dust-choked and dark room that smelled like dry rot. Webbed-over boxes hunched in corners, splintered boards were nailed hazardously over windows, filtering what little light remained into thin strands peeking from outside.

  “Besides,” Heather added, eyes gleaming as she scanned the shadows, “can you blame me for wanting to poke around? Police reports always say that vampires often loot their victims ' jewellery, cash, phones... You never know what got left behind. And if this place really is deserted... well, finders keepers, wouldn’t ya say?” Heather said with a smirk.

  Sonetto looked toward her, arching a brow. “And how do you know exactly that this place is actually abandoned?”

  Heather just grinned. “That’s why we brought the bag.”

  Sonetto narrowed her eyes. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Shifting the weight in her arms, she dropped to one knee and began digging through the bag, suspicion tightening the corners of her mouth.

  “How can you even see the bag? I can barely see what’s in front of me without some light, let alone the bag itself. So how?” Heather asked, squinting into the dark.

  “Can you not?” Sonetto replied, still rummaging through. “You blind, or—”

  She trailed off as her fingers closed around something light and cold. Her expression shifted. “Is this…?” she muttered, slowly pulling the object free.

  It was a six-shooter magnum handgun.

  She stared at it for a second, stunned, as Heather, still blind to what was in her hands, called out, “Is it what? I can’t see shit in here. Oh… wait, did you find the pistol-thing?”

  “The handgun. And yes,” Sonetto snapped, holding it up. “How the fuck did you even get this?!”

  “Keep shouting, and we might have to use it,” Heather said casually. “Just hand me the flashlight. I’m pretty sure I packed it…”

  Sonetto rummaged faster, pushing past plastic-wrapped sandwiches, hammers, tools, and other miscellaneous crap Heather had somehow decided might be ‘useful.’ At last, she pulled out the flashlight.

  “Here,” Sonetto muttered, stepping over and handing it off. Still carried a disdainful look on her face.

  “Yes!” Heather exclaimed, clicking it on. A warm yellow beam cut through the gloom. “Now we’re in business. Come on, let’s go!”

  Sonetto tightened her grip on the gun, let out a long breath, and followed her deeper into the building.

  They both moved from room to room. Nothing of any real worth turned up—just remnants of whatever life or rot had passed through here before. Old, empty drink cans. Used and broken condoms. Fucked on mattresses. Milk crates and sheet metal posed as makeshift tables, scattered with beer bottles, dried blood bags, cigarette butts, and faded playing cards.

  Every room felt the same. Dead and empty.

  After an hour of searching door to door for each room, they came to a door labelled 31. Neither said anything. Heather, clearly having lost patience, pushed the door open with one hand while aiming the flashlight with the other.

  After two minutes of looking, they both knew it was just like the rest.

  “Damn it!” Heather growled, slamming her foot into a nearby box. “There’s nothing here of value!”

  She tossed the flashlight onto the cracked kitchen bench and kept kicking the box, letting her frustration out one dull thud at a time.

  “Nothing of worth…” Sonetto murmured under her breath. Then added, even softer, “Is she Jewish…?”

  Heather kicked the box two more times, then leaned against the bench, winded. “Sorry, you said something?” she asked between breaths.

  “No, no,” Sonetto replied. “Just, this place feels like a bloody cemetery. So empty…”

  “Yeah…” Heather muttered. “There should be only a few more rooms left…” She sounded like she’d already given up hope. “Wanna just leave?” she asked.

  “I already knew this was a bad idea, so say no more,” Sonetto replied coldly.

  Heather let out a sigh, but then Sonetto felt something. She turned her gaze back toward the entrance, her body stiffening.

  “Sonny, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know… It’s just…”

  CREAK

  CREAK

  CREAK

  The floorboards above them groaned, and both of them instinctively looked up.

  “I knew we weren’t alone…” Sonetto muttered, her voice low but just loud enough for Heather to hear. Heather’s face went completely pale upon hearing it.

  She gripped the magnum tightly, listening. Every sound around her felt sharper, like her senses had dialled in, clearer than she remembered them ever being.

  TAP

  TAP

  TAP

  CREAK

  GROWL

  They both heard a growl that sounded like it came from a savage animal, then Heather's face went pale, like she somehow didn’t expect this.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Ohh, fuck this place!” Heather blurted, completely petrified. She snatched the flashlight off the bench, panic still all over her face, and bolted out of the room toward the staircase.

  “No, Heather! That’s what they want!” Sonetto shouted after her, but Heather was already gone, running faster than she normally could.

  Sonetto chased after her without hesitation. Heather’s footsteps and frantic panting echoed through the hallways. She was already a floor down, and Sonetto could still hear her, still feel the pounding rhythm of her fear.

  From the fifth floor, Sonetto descended in pursuit. Down to the fourth. Then to the third.

  Then Silence.

  No footsteps. No panting. No screaming. Nothing.

  “Damn it, Heather, you stupid bloody…!” Sonetto shouted in frustration. But paused, knowing that she should never be too loud in an enclosed area like this.

  But even then, there was no response.

  She stood still, listening carefully for anything out of place. Her grip tightened on the handgun she’d pulled from Heather’s bag—until it hit her. She’d left the bag behind.

  Tap.

  Sonetto whipped the handgun toward the sound without hesitation and fired.

  BANG!

  The gunshot rang out like a thunderclap—and then came the ungodly screech. Sonetto caught a glimpse of it: a masked and hooded figure staggering back. The scream it let out was horribly familiar—too familiar. It sounded just like the one Carol had made the day before.

  She’d hit it. Right in the chest, near the lungs. The vampire reeled back, hissing and snarling, and a very small spatter of blood hit her nose.

  But then—more taps.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  From two different directions.

  Sonetto froze. She hadn’t checked the ammo. For all she knew, that might’ve been her last round.

  But to her, it didn’t matter.

  She rubbed her eyes, inhaled sharply through her nose, and braced herself. If she had to go down swinging, she would.

  She moved, weaving back through the rooms she and Heather had searched just twenty minutes earlier. But Heather was nowhere to be found.

  The tapping didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse. And now, there was scratching too, long, deliberate, mocking.

  It surrounded her from every angle, like a pack of hyenas circling their prey.

  And Sonetto wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.

  “Come here!” One voice called out to the side. And Sonetto then had thrown herself forward in a sort of dive, aiming the gun toward the direction from which the noise was coming, and pulled the trigger, which made another loud bang, just as Sonetto landed on her shoulder, sustaining no damage for herself upon landing.

  “Shit shot honey!” The vampire shouted as he lunged toward Sonetto.

  Seeing this, she adjusted her position very quickly, with her legs facing toward the man's head, and coddled her legs toward her chest and holding them in with her arms, and just as the vampire was about to land on Sonetto, she let her hands on her legs go, and her legs shot out like a bullet and crushed the vampires head,

  The vampire lunged at her with everything it had. Sonetto didn’t flinch.

  With a brutal stomp, she crushed its head beneath her cheap padded shoes. Blood sprayed out, coating her shoes as the creature collapsed headless to the ground.

  She didn’t hesitate. Planting her arms against the floor, she shoved herself up, most of the force coming from her right leg, adjusting her stance as two more vampires charged at her, both wielding rusted machetes, clearly aiming to cut her down.

  But that wasn’t going to work.

  Bang!

  Sonetto shot the first one square in the chest. Without skipping a beat, she turned to face the second one rushing in.

  Swing. Swing. Swing.

  The vampire slashed wildly, but Sonetto dodged each attack with effortless precision. It couldn’t believe what it was seeing. Her movements—sharp, fluid, and unnaturally fast—were like something out of choreography, like she’d spent years preparing for this exact fight.

  Sonetto reached for what she thought was the vampire’s hair, but it seemed to be a mask.

  She tore it off, revealing pale blonde hair and a young, womanly face beneath.

  “I’d remember those piss-poor swings anywhere, fucker!” Sonetto snarled.

  The vampire swung her weapon again, but it leaned forward just a bit too far. Just enough for Sonetto to take advantage.

  And she did.

  As the machete came down, Sonetto ducked and slipped to the left, missing the blade by mere millimetres. In the same breath, she grabbed the vampire’s real hair and yanked hard as it began to fall.

  The vampire’s eyes widened in panic.

  Pure fear radiated from her face as she realised what Sonetto still had in her other hand: the gun.

  “Pricilla…” Sonetto snarled. “I fucking knew that was you,” she growled again, louder.

  “Sonetto…?” Pricilla said, voice shaking.

  Sonetto dropped her. Pricilla faceplanted the floor hard.

  Click—the hammer of the magnum cocked back as Sonetto aimed it right at her head.

  “I hoped you were fucking dead. Sad you're not though…” Sonetto said coldly, mocking her. “Turn around.”

  Pricilla didn’t argue. She rolled over slowly, hands up near her shoulders. Her face was wet with tears already.

  Sonetto stood up, still pointing the gun at her.

  “Honestly shocked you're even here…” Sonetto said, almost disappointed. “I always thought you’d get raped to death… That’s what I was hoping for at least.”

  “I–I guess not…” Pricilla mumbled. “I saw you on the telly. You and Conner seem to be doing well?”

  “Yeah. Conner’s fine,” Sonetto said, her voice tightening. “But do you know who’s not doing well right now?”

  “…Heather?” Pracilla replied. Her body was shaking heavily in fear.

  Sonetto seemed to chuckle. “It seems being a vampire didn’t turn your brain into complete mush…” she muttered, her grip tightening on the gun. “Now, where is she?”

  Before Pricilla could answer, her eyes shifted to something behind her. Sonetto caught it.

  Without a second thought, Sonetto spun around, caught a table leg mid-swing with her left hand, and slammed the grip of the magnum straight into the attacker’s face with her right.

  CRACK.

  The vampire dropped to the floor—either dead or out cold.

  Sonetto turned her head back toward Pricilla, who had started creeping back.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Sonetto said, catching her. She hadn’t even made it two steps before Sonetto caught her.

  Sonetto raised the gun again, stepping forward.

  "I don't know! I swear! She has to be somewhere here!" Pricilla cried, her voice rising into a sob as she broke down in front of her.

  Then she saw it—Sonetto’s eyes. One shimmered with an unnatural ultraviolet hue, the other glinted with a glacial blue. The tears welling in her own eyes seemed to sharpen her vision, refracting the light just enough to reveal the stark contrast in Sonetto’s gaze more vividly. Violet in one eye. Blue in the other.

  "Is that..." Pricilla’s voice faltered, awe replacing fear.

  Sonetto said nothing, confused by the sudden shift in Pricilla’s demeanour—from panic to stunned admiration. Then came the whisper, barely audible.

  "Heterochromia... it's beautiful..."

  Sonetto didn’t respond. Instead, she raised the magnum, aimed at Pricilla’s leg, and pulled the trigger.

  Bang.

  "AHHHH! FUCKING BITCH! AHHHH!" Pricilla shrieked, pure agony wracking her body.

  "Maybe your brain is just mush and peas after all," Sonetto said coldly.

  Blood spilled from the wound in Pricilla’s leg, pooling beneath her as she writhed. Sonetto stood over her without a flicker of remorse.

  "Top floor! Room 45! Heather should be in there!" Pricilla shouted, her hands trembling as she dug into the mangled flesh, trying to extract the bullet herself.

  "AHHHhh..." she screamed again, finally managing to pull the slug free.

  Sonetto raised the gun once more.

  "Come on! I told you where she is—just let me go!"

  "After this..."

  She aimed for the other leg and pulled the trigger.

  Click. It seemed the chamber was empty

  “Lucky you,” Sonetto muttered, stepping forward and kicking her square in the face. Pricilla went limp, blood gushing from her nose, staining the floor—and even more Sonetto’s shoes.

  Sonetto saw that Pricilla's wound kept bleeding as the kick knocked her unconscious. Sonetto scoffed as she walked away toward the staircase.