The Sisterhood of Vampires: Blood Sisters

"I must warn you sir, no one in our precinct has ever seen anything like this before," the burly man said cautiously, as if anyone who stepped into the room ought to know that absolutely nothing strange was to be pulled from the scene, because, after all, nothing weird ever happened in Las Vegas.

"Just show me the body, detective." Jack Mason's voice revealed nothing of his emotions, as it rarely ever did. He was sure—more like positive, actually—that he'd seen either the same thing or even worse in his day, and he felt inclined to tell the detective exactly this, but instead he followed said detective into the night club.

Mason bent down to examine the girl, his face hard and his manor steely. The first thing he looked at was her neck; two puncture marks spread an even distance apart, just as he had been expecting. The next thing he looked for was an ID. He knew that if he found one, they would the ones responsible for the murder; they always wanted him to know their victims. If not, he was just dealing with another one, plain and simple.

"The victim's name is Emily Swanson, 18 years old," he recited to the detectives hovering over him. None of them were looking at him, however, as they were probably still disturbed upon seeing the wounds in young Emily's neck.

"How do you know that?" one of them asked, a small female with stringy red hair cropped short, looking down at him suspiciously.

"I found her ID in her purse," he responded briskly, and her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Her jugular was punctured clean through," said the ME, shivering and glancing around the deserted club. "It looks as if she bled out, but--"

"There's no evidence of blood anywhere," Mason finished, "and your examination of the body shows no evidence of the body being moved post-mortem."

"Exactly." He shivered again. "Are we done here for the moment? I'm starting to get really freaked out by this place."

"Yes," Mason answered. "In fact, all of you can leave now. I will no longer require your services." The fact was he never required their services in the first place, other than to tell him the location of the body, but other than that, their presence there was unnecessary.

They looked around at each other; eyebrows raised, they left him and the body alone. He had a long wait ahead of him, he knew. Checking his watch, he leaned up against a wall and stared at the body of the late Emily Swanson.

An hour and thirty-two minutes later, the girl's body rose off the floor. Mason still leaned against the wall, and now he heaved a sigh mixed with relief that he'd caught one of them at least before they'd done any harm, and boredom because his task was one he had preformed over and over again, following the Sisterhood's work so he could undo it.

He got up and walked over to her, pulling a wooden stake from his pocket, making sure that she saw it. She barely had time to move before his hand was wrapped around her throat and the pointy tip of the stake was pressed against the skin above her heart.

Before he could make dust of her though, she spoke, grinning at him with her new, long fangs showing. "Janaeah sends her love to you, Jack Mason, and oh yes, Iynnea says hullo."

His face showed no expression at all as he plunged the stake through her now dead, no-long-beating heart. As soon as her dust had settled in a neat pile at his feet, a long stemmed, black rose fell from the ceiling to land right in aforementioned pile of dust. Not a speck of dust got on the rose, as was usual. He stared at that rose for a long time before finally looking up: what he saw was huge panes of glass that were the ceiling.

One of the panes of glass was open just slightly, and a cool breeze floated through it. On the breeze was the tinniest hint of the coppery, tangy scent Jack Mason knew as the smell of blood.

April Dalloway walked down the dark sidewalk toward her house in the suburbs, her boyfriend Chris Matthews's hand in hers. Chris had insisted that he walk her home after that wild party, positive that she was so drunk that she wouldn't be able to find her own way home. April of course knew this was ridiculous, because although she loved wild parties like that, she hated alcohol and never even touched the stuff. Chris himself knew that, too, but he was just looking for an excuse to walk her home.

Sometimes he drove her crazy because he worried about her so much. But he was sweet, her parents liked and trusted him with her, and he wasn't hard on the eyes, either. It was just—he bored her to no end sometimes, talking about mindless things like sports and his friends, who were all jocks. Sure, she was next in line to become captain of the cheerleading squad, but still. It's not like all she wanted to hear about was the various sports teams Chris belonged to. Sometimes she wanted to talk about other things, like just life in general. But that's what she got for dating a jock.

April gave him a small kiss at her doorstep before bidding him a goodnight and stepping into the house, giving him a small smile. "I'm home!" she called, knowing that everyone was still probably wide awake and waiting for her to come home.

"We're all in here, sweetie!" called her mother from the living room, where April could hear sounds from a TV show playing. When she walked in there she saw that her mother hadn't been kidding; her twin brother Nick and younger sister Dawn were sitting on the floor in front of the couch, where her mom, dad and dog Toto were all sitting. Her whole family really was there.

Upon seeing that April was home at last, Toto jumped off the couch and came bouncing over to her, his tail wagging so fast it was in danger of falling off. Toto was a large black mutt the Dalloway's had gotten when the pup was only four months old. He was now four years old, and pretty much belonged to April.

"Wow, Ape, home before curfew again," said Nick, looking away from the TV, where two large ladies had gotten into a fist fight on the Jerry Springer show, to look at his sister. He grinned at her reaction to the stupid name he had called her since they were three years old. She whacked him upside the head as she passed him on her way to the kitchen. "Mom, did you see that? April hit me!"

"April, don't hit your brother," her dad called to her automatically, not even looking away from the TV. Tom and Cheryl Dalloway were used to yelling at one of the twins for being violent to the other, and so now whenever they heard their tones of voices rising they automatically told them to stop arguing.

Even April and Nick knew what would be coming to them if they stared arguing, and so they almost counted on getting yelled at now. April thought it was boring, because nothing new ever happened. Her life was so normal it disgusted her. She was tired of doing the same old things over and over again. Sometimes she just wanted to break free of the ordinary and do something crazy!

Author's Note: So how do you like the new story? I'm planning to make it into a series, but we'll just have to see where it takes us for now. I got the inspiration for it from watching a CSI: Crime Scene Investigator episode, which is really weird, I know, but that's okay. I can live with weird; it's normal I can't handle lol.