แ—ทแ’ชOOแ—ช แ—ชแ–‡Oแ‘ญแ”• แ—ฉแ‘Žแ—ช Gแ‘Œแ‘Ž แ”•แ•ผOTแ”•

By detectiveofshadows

124 16 14

"๐•€ ๐•”๐•’๐•Ÿ'๐•ฅ ๐•๐•š๐•ง๐•– ๐•จ๐•š๐•ฅ๐•™ ๐•ž๐•ช๐•ค๐•–๐•๐•—, ๐•“๐•ฆ๐•ฅ ๐•€ ๐•”๐•’๐•Ÿ'๐•ฅ ๐••๐•š๐•–. ๐•‹๐•™๐•š๐•ค ๐•ก๐•’๐•š๐•Ÿ... ๐•š๐•ค ๐•ฅ๐•  ๐•ž๐•ฆ... More

๐”–๐”ฅ๐”ž๐”ฏ๐”ญ ๐”—๐”ข๐”ข๐”ฑ๐”ฅ ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ก ๐”…๐”ฌ๐”ก๐”ถ ๐”“๐”ž๐”ฆ๐”ซ๐”ฐ
โ„ญ๐”ฌ๐”ฉ๐”ก ๐”‘๐”ฆ๐”ค๐”ฅ๐”ฑ๐”ฐ ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ก ๐”‡๐”ž๐”ช๐”ญ ๐”Ž๐”ฆ๐”ฐ๐”ฐ๐”ข๐”ฐ
๐”–๐”ฌ๐”ฃ๐”ฑ ๐”–๐”ฌ๐”Ÿ๐”ฐ ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ก ๐”Š๐”ฏ๐”ž๐”ณ๐”ข ๐”–๐”ฑ๐”ฌ๐”ซ๐”ข๐”ฐ

๐”–๐”ฆ๐”ฉ๐”ข๐”ซ๐”ฑ ๐”–๐” ๐”ฏ๐”ข๐”ž๐”ช๐”ฐ ๐”ž๐”ซ๐”ก ๐”…๐”ฉ๐”ฌ๐”ฌ๐”ก๐”ถ ๐”—๐”ข๐”ž๐”ฏ๐”ฐ

22 4 0
By detectiveofshadows

She couldn't think, she couldn't breath. All she felt was pain. Pain and suffering.

Her abdomen hurt, clenching with hunger, her body weak and shaking. She didn't understand. What had happened to her...? The man she'd been investigating had jumped her, assaulted her, and was now serving time for murder and rape, at least until he could be hanged.

But this... this was wrong.

This feeling was wrong.

She rolled over in the small bed she'd been given at the inn, shivering as fever overtook her body.

The blankets were nestled up around her body, and the air was hot at humid. She shouldn't be this cold. She shouldn't have the overwhelming urge to stay awake. She shouldn't have the urge for a steak this time of night.

She stilled as the door to her room creaked open, and footsteps slowly approached her bed. "Horton...?" Her police assigned partner, James McCavery, called softly. "The cook said yah' didn't eat ye' supper. Are yah' feeling all right? Do I need tah' fetch yah' a doctor?"

The lad was young, originally from Ireland but it only showed a little bit.

He was probably one of the only people who knew she was a female, but continuously treated her as a male to assist in her work. She adored him for that.

The detective rolled over, still curled in the blankets and shaking like a leaf. "I don't... I don't know, McCavery." She croaked, her voice deeper, more raspy. The lamplight on her bedside illuminated her face, revealing her now almost shockingly pale complexion and crimson eyes, striking fear into the heart of the young male.

He staggered back, his heartbeat picking up as he clutched at his crucifix. "B-Back, ye demon!" He hissed, reaching for the door but failing, stumbling and cutting himself on the rough wooden floor.

The scent of blood filled the air.

And bloodlust overtook the woman.

In an instant, Sydney was up and hovering over the male, her body practically pinning him to the ground. "Blood..." She snarled, baring her now pointed teeth at McCavery's throat.

Her mind was still fighting, she didn't want this, but her body was weak and starving. And it was very obvious that was what had happened. She was smaller, and seemed more frail, but her strength had doubled.

The officer gazed up at his mentor and friend with horror. "Cad a rinne an bástaire sin duit?" He breathed, green eyes wide. Then he swallowed, slowly exhaling before tilting his head back and exposing his throat. "Be gentle, please miss. I can't fight ye'." He admitted, closing his eyes and waiting for his death.

And I want to say it came swiftly and painlessly, I really do.

But I can't.

Sydney instantly latched her fangs into McCavery's pulse point, hungrily suckling the blood from his body. Her bite was sloppy, and she didn't know how to make it painless.

It was hell for the lad. But he made not a sound

When the young vampire ran out of blood, and the male was unconscious... she became savage, ripping his throat open, desperate for any more of the wonderful substance she'd found.

She couldn't even think straight. Everything was instinct.

This was the death of James Aiden McCavery.

That same evening, another young male was about the town, and surprised when he saw a young woman on the corner, covered in blood and sobbing. He hurried over, concerned for the lass' well being. "Are you alright, miss? Do I need to-"

He couldn't even get the words out before he was dragged into an alley way, sharp fangs sinking into his throat and ripping it out before he could scream, the raven haired woman lapping up the blood like nectar.

This was the death of Ian Kay Greyson.

Night after night this happened.

No one was safe.

Males and females were torn apart and drained of blood.

After six months, the killings finally stopped.

And Sydney Horton fled the country, terrified of what she'd become.

The stories written in the paper by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ceased.

Sherlock Holmes vanished.

The country's crime rate increased dramatically.

And in a small mausoleum, the resting place of one Jane Bendall, in a small town of Arizona, Sydney Horton slept for a century, guilt ridden and terrified of what monster she'd become.

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{ All names and characters are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is completely coincidental }

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