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Nothing satisfies me like your soul; On February 26, 2017 at 1:00 AM by PHAEDRA ALDER

When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,
Who will have mercy on your soul?
Nothing satisfies me but your soul.
My name is Death and the end is here.

It was twilight. The time where darkness caught the light, consuming it from the sky. The street lamps flickered on and their dull light shone through the basement’s filthy windows that were marred by soot and dust. The light etched deep shadows on to the faded discolored walls. The basement was thick with the scent of sweat and blood that mingled with mold and rot; the putrid smell of decay and disuse. It wasn’t a place that would one would find a pristinely dressed woman, clothed in white linen and black leather. The dark and light, hard and soft that mirrored the woman’s personality; her true self.

“You are going to tell me, darling. You might as well save yourself some blood loss and tell me what I want to know.” Her husky voice was insistent and hardened at the demand. She reached long, slender fingers up to push the stray strands of hair that had escaped her messy bun from her face as she sighed with impatience.

He wasn’t going to talk and he made that clear with the grunt he made in response.

For a few moments she simply looked at him, really looked at what he was. The man was a hulking figure that was chained to a chair in the middle of the dank basement. His brown hair was long and matted with dirt, blood and sweat. He was bloody and torn, dirty from the beating he had been put through a few days ago. Sweat slicked his brow and dripped down his face as he stared back at her with a defiance that she might have respected if it hadn’t been inconveniencing her at the moment. The vampire was proving to be more trouble than he was worth.

Ben had promised her that he would have information that would prove useful had they captured him alive. They could get him to talk, it would be simple. His words echoed in her head as she shifted her booted feet against the gravel floor. But Ben had underestimated this insignificant vampire, a feeder fish that swim with much larger and more interesting predators. The little fish had a spine. She stretched her shoulders and rolled her head to loosen her neck. There was a dull ache that never seemed to leave her. This mission had been anything but simple. It cost her three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and more cuts and bruises than she had been able to count. But the fish was in a bowl but he wasn’t singing for his dinner.

This angered her. Her fists clenched in fury and suddenly with a crackle of blue light, the hilt of a dagger filled her fist and she whirled around in one swift move to plant the dagger to the hilt in the vampire’s thigh. The shock and surprise that flickered on his face a split second before he shrieked in agony caused her lips to twist up in a demented smile as she leaned close to him. Her face mere inches from his. She could smell his filth, the stench of his breath and now his fear. “We can keep doing this the hard way and I can keep coming up with new things to stick in you or you can tell me what I want to know.” Her voice was reasonable and soft, with a matter of fact tone. The vampire whimpered and finally nodded. “Ju…jus…just take it all out.” He pleaded.

She thought he looked a bit like a pin cushion, thin blade daggers stick in him wherever it might have caused intense pain but no real damage. Yes, he was stronger than Ben had thought and like always, it fell to her to clean up the mess and salvage the mission. Useless hunters. “I’ll take one out each time you tell me something useful. If you lie or tell me something I already know, I’ll stick another one in you. I’m sure I can find somewhere.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “You want to know about the Ashrak… the raid.” His voice was dry and raspy, but the pain had dulled as his mind had tried to block out what was happening. “It.. it was multiple covens.” He gasped and gritted his teeth as she removed a spike that that been in his hand for hours now. Oldest ones first. “One of the covens was from here, from Sacrosanct. The guy who leads rules with an iron fist. He.. he.. he knew the Ashrak were a threat. They were hunting coven members. If they succeeded, the Ashrak would destroy his power base.” She removed another spike which brought him to an involuntary whimper. “The vamp made alliances with three other covens. It’s the only way they had the numbers. I don’t know anything else.”

She touched one of the spikes. “What is his name?” she demanded, her tone edged with warning should he lie, he would lose the body part. He winced. She circled him like a predator ready to strike at anymore. “I don’t… I don’t know. I swear. He doesn’t mingle with us mere common bloodsuckers. I don’t even know where…” His words were cut off as his head slipped from his shoulders.

She sighed with exasperation. “’I don’t know’ doesn’t win your life, unfortunately.” She turned and paused for a moment before raising her hand. The blue light crackled as the blades disappeared, leaving nothing behind. If the human’s found the corpse, they would have no evidence to point in anyone’s direction. The cell would be safe and one less vampire would be hunting the humans.

When she emerged from the basement, she had already donned an ankle length wool military jacket and pulled the collar up against the cold rain. Phaedra tapped her comm device and spoke in to it casually as she sauntered down the street. “Phaedra here. It’s done. Next time, retrieve the body, Ben, you are going to have to clean up your own mess. I won’t bleed for you again.”


Phaedra knew of a bar that stayed open in to the wee hours of the night. What she needed right now was noise, distractions and copious amounts of booze. It was the only way for her to process what she had to do tonight. Even after the hundreds of years of hunting the things that go bump in the night, the hunter still could not stomach torture. Her kills were clean and quick; justified. She hunted those that deserved it and culling only those that represented a threat to the delicate balance between the supernatural and the humans.

However, now… it was not so black and white. They had been destroyed and the remaining members of her clan were scattered to the wind in small cells with orders never to reunite until the threat had been defended. This meant less ethical means to an end. She felt dirty. Of the four other hunters in her cell, two were inept at best of times and completely incompetent at the worst. Phaedra had been assigned to be their mentor but the role was more like maid, cleaning up every time they failed. Her patience was growing thin with them. If they didn’t shape up, they would find themselves out on the streets for the creatures to hunt.

While she had treated in to thought, Phaedra was still observing her surroundings. Hunters didn’t live long by being careless and she had not made it over 200 years by making foolish mistakes. Pheadra moved in silence, not even clicks from her heeled boots could be heard as she sprinted gingerly across the cobble stone street and over to the entrance of the pub.

She had been there once before, after a hunt that had been about as successful as this one had been. She had been in the same mood, driven to be in a crowd to forget what she had been forced to do as she was driven to do tonight. This was survival and if the Ashrak were to survive, it would require much more of her than just motivating a scambag vampire to give some information that meant just about next to nothing. They already knew a coven was here that had been partially responsible. They already knew it was multiple covens, that was logic. There was no coven large enough to take them all on. But was the one vampire that was truly responsible for the destruction of her clan here? Food for thought, she decided.

Phaedra pushed open the door and let the rush of sound and the smell of liquor and food wash over her. She wanted to give her mind a respite, she needed time to gather her thoughts before she returned to the base. There were three cell members waiting to hear her report but they would wait longer. They had forced her hand tonight and every fiber of her being resented them for it. This was their folly and she had to fix it. The dead vamp would weigh on her soul, not theirs.

She meandered through the throngs of pub patrons towards the restroom. The heady laughs and conversations, they were too lost in their company to notice the hunter. It was better that way. She faded from the crowd in to the restroom, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it. The hunter closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she moved towards the sink. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Her skin was a pale, creamy white that clashed with the circles that were starting appear under her eyes. Her long black hair had escaped her bun as it was so prone to do. She splashed some water on her face to perk up her color and to wash away her deeds tonight then loosed her long black hair; giving it a toss while letting it tumble down her back and across her shoulders. She was looking almost… normal again. She touched her cheek gingerly, the bruises had almost faded away as well. You did what had to be done. You always do what has to be done. She thought to herself as she watched her reflection. Whatever she saw looking back made her frown deeply, she turned away and exited.

As she walked along the aisle towards the bar, she relieved herself of her coat and hung it on a hook before she posted up to the bar, taking a stool at the far end away from everyone else, she lifted a hand to get the bartenders attention. The hint of Irish filled her voice as she asked for a beer, something dark. The bartender nodded. “Long day?” Phaedra smiled coyly as she leaned back in her chair, resting her elbow on the back of it and propping her head against her hand as she answered the man. “Is there any other kind? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it were any other way.”

When the bartender went to fetch her beer, Phaedra turned those unusual violet eyes of hers out across the pub’s patrons. It was a mixed bag of creature and human. Of course, she avoided eye contact with any of them. Something about her eyes always gave her away and while she would have no issues relieving them of their heads, all she really wanted was a beer.

"talks like this."
"NPCs talk like this"

telumkinectic dark hunter


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