Hey guys! This is my first story on , so let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but Dodger and Daylin!
"'In nine out of ten murders, the killer is someone the victim knew.' That is a theory I've heard many times over. Let me just tell you right now, it's not true. At least, not in Chicago it isn't. However, that could be because in nine out of ten murders here, vampires are to blame. At this point you're probably contemplating my sanity, in addition to trying to locate the nearest exit. I can assure you that I am entirely sane, while being deadly serious at the same time. Vampires. Not a word you hear used when talking about reality. But vampires are a very real part of our everyday lives. Past your previous shock, you're probably trying to figure out why the hell I'm telling you all this. My reasoning is simple: I'm reaching out across the country, trying to find anyone and everyone who can help my friends and me fight these monsters. Please…please help us."
The signal cut out, leaving Mickie and me staring at the blank screen.
"Yeah," I answered.
The two of us leapt from the couch and headed into our room to pack our bags.
"If we leave now," I started, throwing random articles of clothing into my bag, "we can probably get there by early afternoon tomorrow."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mickie nod, confirming she'd heard me.
I quickly zipped my bag, immediately heading into the weapons storage room.
After Mickie and I moved to Cleveland from Virginia, we knew we'd made a mistake. The city was littered with vampires, and the two of us were entirely unprepared for it. Luckily for us, we ran into a pair of self-proclaimed "hunters" who gladly gave us advice on taking out vampires. The four of us have been hunting together ever since.
"Should we call Mike and John?" I asked, picking up my bow and arrows and my silver swords. (Blades and arrow tips both doused in Holy water, of course.)
"Matt made it sound like they were completely overrun. We should bring all the back-up we can."
"Right. I'm on it." I pulled out my phone, silently thanking ever divinity I'd ever heard of that I'd remembered to charge it. I held down the "5" key, and the phone speed-dialed Mike's cell.
"Hey, hey, hey, Dodger! Long time no talk!"
"I talked to you yesterday, Hennigan. Where's Mike?" I asked shortly.
"Ooh, someone's in a bad mood. He's right here." There was a rustling on the other end, followed by a muffled, "Mike! Phone!" before a voice came through the receiver.
"What up, D?" I rolled my eyes at his gangster greeting.
"Looked in a mirror lately, Mizanin? News flash: You're white." He laughed, and I could almost hear him shaking his head.
"John said you sounded serious. What's wrong?"
"There's a problem in Chicago. A big one."
There was a short pause, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to make of this.
"What kind of problem?" he questioned, a trace of worry in his tone.
"The kind with sharp fangs and bad attitudes," I answered, hearing a sharp intake of breath.
"Like, city's overrun and only a few people are there fighting. Mickie and I are leaving, like, now, so we need to know of you're coming with us."
There was another pause, and muffled voices confirmed he was discussing it with John.
"Yeah. We can be ready in five minutes."
I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me.
"Alright. We meet you at your place."
I closed my phone, not giving a farewell. We didn't really have time for niceties.
"They're coming," I called to Mickie, picking up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
"Good. We might need their help," she answered, coming out of the room to meet me by the front door.
I nodded, not seeing the need for a response.