He was nervous, scared to be walking so heedlessly into enemy territory. He hadn’t ever seen an unharmed vampire, much less actually killed one before. His mentor had only let him see the beaten ones, the broken ones – vampires that wouldn’t – or couldn’t – hurt him at all. Even then, he had been warned to stay back, to keep away, and to not look too closely.

As he walked though the ankle-deep snow, crossbow on his back, staying just inside the line of trees, invisible to anyone in the mansion, he wondered why Strider had sent him to attack a houseful of parasites solo. Could it be to just get rid of him? Strider had never liked him much, picked on him and teased him mercilessly, often to the point of tears. He was just seventeen, stick-thin, and so inexperienced that it was laughable – it would be easy for any of them to pick him off. Even a newly-bitten one who had no powers or advantages could beat him.

He looked toward the mansion again as he walked, wondering how to get across the wide expanse of snow. Footprints would show easily, and there was no cover. How to get to the house?

The boy looked over the dark mansion again, and saw a figure in a second-story window, just standing there. He was too far away to see anything specific, just that he or she was wearing white and was very pale.

Parasite, he thought reflexively, and moved on.

Eventually, when he had all but circled the house, he stopped at the east side, where all the curtains were drawn, awaiting the sunlight that meant instant death for the leeches. Nobody would notice him coming in this way, he figured. All the windows were covered. They didn’t have x-ray vision, did they?

He walked across the snow quickly, but unafraid of being caught where he was. He was still afraid of the impossible task he was expected to accomplish, but it had settled in his stomach when Strider had given him the assignment. In the five or so hours that it had been there, it hadn’t left once. He had all but forgotten it.

The windows were locked of course, so he decided to break and enter – something he had promised himself never to do again.

He hadn’t stopped because he felt bad about breaking into people’s houses, like he told everyone. Frankly, he really didn’t care what the owners of the houses thought. Whenever he broke in, it was because he needed something – food, usually, although sometimes he stole valuables so he wouldn’t have to break into someone’s house the next time he got so weak with hunger he started shaking and literally couldn’t walk straight.

The skill of opening a window that was locked form the inside came back to him easily, as if he used it every day. It was even easier to do it now, with the tools he had. A strange mixture of euphoria and confidence surged inside him, made him smile for a second.

He dropped to the floor of the study silently and glanced around the room once before turning to close the window.

His footsteps were quiet, almost silent as he left the room and turned right down the dark corridor. Everything was dark compared to outside – the moon reflected off the snow, making it almost as bright as day. There were no lights in the hall, but he didn’t mind. He was used to the dark, used to sneaking around.

In a way, he made the perfect slayer – he was fast, smart, and thin enough to fit though spaces most boys his age wouldn’t have been able to. It all made up for the fact that he was neither strong nor did he have an instinct to kill. He would hit someone, push them down a flight of stairs, but he didn’t actually kill them with his own hands. Vampires were the one exception, though. He felt that if he had a chance, he could kill one.

The hall stopped in a dead end, a wooden blank wall, no door. But…

He slowly put his crucifix down at his feet and straightened up. Placing his fingertips on the wall and pushing slowly, he prayed to God that whatever happened next would be silent.

The wall – which wasn’t heavy at all, it must have been very thin – moved back a quarter inch.

With the same slow speed, he moved his hands to the right, pushing slightly. Nothing. He moved his hands the other way, to the left. The wood slid in, disappearing like a sliding door.

He picked up his crucifix and stepped though, closing the wall until there was just enough room to slide his fingers though if he needed to get away quickly.

He was in a huge common room, which had probably been two floors, he noted. Halfway up, the wall covering changed, going from a dark wood to a white paint abruptly. So cheap. If these leeches had everything, wouldn’t they do something about that? On the opposite side of the room from him, there were two double doors. The entrance, he assumed. Next to it, though, the wall was off, as if there was a hidden door like the one had had just some from.

He turned to study the hidden door again, to check if it looked off, and realized why he couldn’t move it to the right – there was a staircase next to the hidden door.

He felt slightly torn. On one hand, he wanted to go upstairs and investigate, sure that the vampires would be up there. On the other hand, he wanted to go investigate the door by the entrance, to stay safe, stay alive, for just a minute longer.

His longing to make Strider proud of him – to give the man a reason to praise him, to not be humiliated – won over, so he headed upstairs.

The corridor here was more ornate – there were lights above, and paintings on the walls, although so far it was door-less. It was obviously for show, while the hallway downstairs was more behind-the-scenes.

The first room he came to was a bedroom. Instead of a bed, though, there was a closed oak coffin by the curtained window. He gripped his crucifix tighter and reached into his belt for a stake as he stepped over the threshold.

When he opened the coffin, he found nothing. It was empty.

He moved on, resisting the urge to slip a miniature crucifix into the padding, leave it as a nasty surprise to the occupant. That would just give him away, if his scent didn’t. He didn’t want them knowing he was here.

The rest of the rooms he visited were empty. If there was a coffin in it, the coffin was empty too. He estimated that there were around six vampires living in the house, but he couldn’t be sure – there was one more room he hadn’t checked yet.

By this time, he wasn’t scared. He was sure there were no vampires here, not tonight. If there were, they would surely have killed him before he broke open the window.

The coffin in the last room was cracked open – for air? – it was held apart by the locks on it, which also made it easy to open.

He dropped the lid in shock when he saw the body. It landed on his left index finger with a small crunch. As soon as he could, he opened the lid again, worried the vampire would have woken up. He’d only have one chance to kill it…

She was still sleeping, undisturbed by the small noise.

She was the one he’d seen in the window.

Shaking, he closed the coffin lid, cracking it open a bit with the locks so it looked the same as when he’d found it. He didn’t want to be here anymore, didn’t think he could ever kill her, even if his life depended on it.

He was running, not caring if there were others. He just needed to leave.