*****

Callista knew.

It wasn't an earth-shattering knowledge, just a feeling, a prickling on her skin. Like the time her mother kissed her at a gas station and never returned. Or the Sunday mass, where a too-charismatic couple engaged Father Friedrich in conversation, their smiles never reaching their eyes.

The church air, usually thick with incense and old wood, held a strange metallic tang. It tickled Callista's nose. Her crimson eyes scanned the scene below. Something was wrong.

"Ivan," she whispered, nudging her friend engrossed in drawing a dragon. "Look."

Ivan, tongue sticking out in concentration, barely glanced up. "What is it?"

"Them!" She pointed towards the couple. "They smell different."

Ivan sniffed the air. "Different how?"

"Sharp, like iron."

"Vampires? In a church?" Ivan's voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fear. "But... it's daytime, and holy ground, right? They can't come here..."

Callista swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "You're right, they shouldn't be able to. Let's just... get out of here."

That night, sleep offered no solace. Premonitions of fangs and flames played out behind her closed eyelids, leaving her restless and shaken.

Then, the night shattered. A resounding boom reverberated through the building, shaking the very walls. Screams ripped through the air, followed by Sister Mary's frantic voice, "Children, RUN!"

Chaos erupted. Orphans tumbled over each other towards the fire escape. Inside the burning church, a fleeting silhouette danced amidst the inferno, a woman, her eyes, the very colour of the embers themselves, glinted with a strange intensity. Callista blinked, the image dissolving like smoke in the wind. 

Flames roared, casting flickering shadows on the orphanage walls, the acrid scent of smoke stinging Callista's eyes. But it was scent of blood that truly made her stomach churn. 

Sister Mary stumbled back. "It was them," she choked out. "Those...guests...they..."

A sinister figure emerged from the shadows, his smile splitting his face, revealing fangs that glinted sharply in the flames. "Enjoying the party, Sister?"

Callista's blood ran cold. This wasn't a guest. This was a predator. With a sharp crack, he sunk his teeth into Sister Mary, draining her life with practised brutality. The orphans huddled closer, their whimpers swallowed by the inferno's roar. Anna's single scream echoed through the chaos.

A snicker escaped the vampire's throat. He tossed Sister Mary's lifeless body aside, blood dripping grotesquely from his lips. "Virgin blood," he rasped with perverse delight. "Just the way I like it."

The fire warden, his face painted with grief and courage, stepped between the monsters and the terrified children. "Leave them alone, monsters!" he roared, tears carving tracks through the grime on his face.

The female vampire, her crimson eyes gleaming with cold amusement, tilted her head in mock curiosity. "Monsters?" she purred, "we are the apex predators, darlings. The rightful rulers of this new world." With a deadly smile, her hand shot out, snapping the warden's neck with a crack. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

"Wasteful, Liz," the male vampire muttered, wiping blood from his mouth with a careless flick of his wrist.

"Nonsense, Anton," Liz countered, her gaze fixed on the huddled children. "Fresh feast awaits." Her eyes gleamed with depraved hunger. "So young, so... innocent."

"First pick is yours, my love."

A cruel grin stretched across Liz's face. Her gaze lingered on Callista, who stood out from the others frozen in fear and grief. Defiance sparked in her eyes, a flicker the undead hadn't anticipated.

"Quite a sight, child," Liz purred, fangs glinting in the orange glow. "Almost too good to kill..."

A cold finger traced Callista's cheek. She tilted her head in response. "Perhaps," Liz rasped, "I can make you one of us."

Callista growled, "Not a chance, monster."

Liz's amusement curdled into a snarl. "Foolish child! Then witness true pain!" With fangs bared, she lunged for Callista's throat.

But a blur of selflessness intervened. Ivan, his face contorted in a scream, threw himself between them, the vampire's fangs sinking into his shoulder.

"IVAN!" Callista shrieked, rushing to his side. Ivan clutched his shoulder, blood staining his shirt crimson. Fear, cold and sharp, snaked its way through her veins. Her gaze darted between the monstrous figures advancing towards them and Ivan, his breaths growing shallow. In that moment, the world seemed to shrink, the flames blurring at the edges of her vision.

She wouldn't let them take Ivan. A surge of anger coursed through her, momentarily pushing back the fear.

Ivan, his face pale, met her gaze. With a shaky breath, he managed a faint, "Run, Callie."

"Never!”. A crimson glow, barely perceptible in the firelight, ignited in her eyes.

"Young love, how sweet," Anton sneered, pulling Liz into a mocking embrace.

Liz's malicious laughter filled the air. "Indeed. Now watch, boy, as I drain your precious one dry." She lunged again, fangs aimed for Callista's throat. Anton held Ivan, a cruel grin twisting his features.

Clarity flooded Callista's vision, sharp as shattered glass: the vampire's malice, the glint of fangs, the cloying blood scent, the despair in Ivan's eyes. Time stretched thin, the world fracturing around her.

Instinctively, Callista crossed her arms, a surge of power coursing through her veins. A blinding white light erupted, a defiant burst of brilliance. The vampire screeched, shielding her eyes, momentarily blinded.

Callista, heart pounding in her chest, saw her reflection in the dying flames. Fear mingled with something new — power. In her hands, materialised two blades, shimmering like starlight.

"What in the..." Anton sputtered. He leaped, fangs bared, aiming for a swift end. But Callista, fueled by instinct and adrenaline, parried his attack.

Grace was absent in their desperate struggle for survival. Callista's blade, guided by an uncanny intuition, sliced through Anton's arm effortlessly. She knew, somehow, what needed to be done. Another strike found its mark, plunging deep into Anton's chest. He roared in agony, then disintegrated into dust.

But her victory was short-lived. Liz, contorted with rage and grief, snatched Ivan. Callista watched in horror as the vampire's fangs sunk into his neck, draining his life with terrifying swiftness. Their eyes met, Liz's burning with unholy hunger, shattering the last remnants of Callista's innocence like broken glass.

The vampire lunged, a blur of fury and fangs. Callista flinched, raising her blades in a desperate parry, but before the predator reached her, a gunshot boomed through the inferno. A thrown blade, unerringly precise, pierced Liz's heart, sending her screaming into dust.

A man emerged from the shadows, lean and average in stature. His glasses reflected the dying flames, revealing a weathered face etched with both surprise and a deep concern that rumbled in his voice. 

"Are you alright, child?”

Callista choked back a sob. The world spun, a dizzying kaleidoscope of terror, loss, and the awakening of a power she couldn't name.

The man, sensing her turmoil, offered a gentle smile that reached his eyes. "My name is Indigo Crane," he said calmly. "I'm a Watcher. And I'm here to take you to safety."

His words pierced through the haze. She nodded, understanding settling in the pit of her stomach. Twelve-year-old Callista stood taller, the flames of the inferno mirroring the fire now burning in her eyes. Her life had changed, irrevocably, and she knew, with certainty, that this was only the beginning.

A decade melted into the neon-drenched city, a concrete jungle pulsing with a life that devoured the stars. Callista, bundled deeper into her leather jacket, wondered if Ivan would find beauty in this concrete chaos. 

Unwanted memories flooded her mind. They might fade, eventually, but the scars remained deep. Distant sirens wailed, another life snuffed out. The city, a record on repeat, playing the same song of violence and despair.

A flicker of a cigarette, a plume of smoke framed her face as she exhaled. The city's indifference was a mirror to her own, a shield against the pain that still glinting beneath the surface.

Then, a voice slithered through the night, a seductive melody in the cacophony of the city, a welcome distraction. "Hey, beautiful, want to escape?"

The stench of blood, veiled by expensive cologne, was unmistakable. Crimson eyes met the neon glow, reflecting the city's coldness and her own. A smile, devoid of warmth, played on her lips.

Not just a hunter. A hunter who hunted hunters.

Calista Art