The Vampire Sands 1

The Vampire Sands and the Blood Brotherhood

A continuing story by KazrenElf

What if Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands was a vampire?

1.

It’s a great night to be out.  Kind of just what the doctor ordered
really.  For me.  Halloween.  Almost perfect, too. 
Full moon.  Ragged clouds.  If it wasn’t for the fucking werewolves,
it would be perfect.  Then again, maybe they make it perfect. 
If they weren’t here, I’d only have humans to hunt.  What sort of
fun is that?

 

When the wind rips down the concrete canyons, it feels almost like home
in my old world of upper state New York a good four hundred years ago. 
Forests.  Trees.  That was then.  Stony spires reaching
to snag that big fat moon.  That’s now.  And now is good.

 

I’m carrying tonight.  Not the old stuff.  No, the new liquid
bullets.  Silver nitrate or something the Blood Brotherhood thought
up. I like to see them rip into a werewolve’s furry hide and hear him shriek. 
Usually, I’m not the one pulling the trigger.  I just arrange things
then observe the pieces falling into place.  But lately I’ve had a
taste for the hunt myself.  I enjoy sticking a pointed silver rod
up ole wolfie’s ass, just like the next guy.  Good old Vlad, he had
it right.  Impale the motherfuckers.

 

Some of the young ones think ‘cause I talk a lot that there’s nothing
between the ears.  Let them think.  It’s part of my game. 
Most nights, I seem to play it all by myself.   Tonight is not
just most nights, though, is it?  Tonight we’re doing chess moves
on the board of the city.  Classic pincher.  No cheating. 
On the clock.  Trick or treat.

 

Here doggyboy.

 

They thought they got me in Mexico.  They haven’t read Stoker. 
We don’t die in sunlight, crap, we just don’t like it much.  And we
regenerate.  Those dickheads who blinded me were surpassed when I
haunted them, hunted them, paid them back.  They don’t regenerate. 
That’s what makes life good.  Plain, simple revenge.  Eye for
an eye.  Literally.

 

I can smell the werewolves.  They have a distinctive odor. 
Just like humans.  It’s easy to tell them apart.  And they breathe
different, too.  You’d think the humans would smell them or notice
how they breathe, but no.  The wolvers move in their midst and are
none the wiser.  Poor dumb bastards.

 

My life’s biggest joke has been the CIA.  The stupid fuckheads
didn’t seem to notice I never grew older.  Well, I don’t have to play
that game anymore.  They think I died back in ole Mexico.  Let
them.  I can play now.  Hunt myself a werewolf or two. 
I’ll drink werewolf blood tonight.  That always pleases.

 

One of my co-hunters tonight is Stella.  I know she’ll get all
sorts of high from the kill tonight and that will make her horny. 
Like she’s not horny half the time.  She’s been dropping hints since
my eyes grew back that she wanted to ride me.  She’s a young one,
turned only a few years ago.   She doesn’t know about the stamina
of those of us with a few hundred years under our belts.  I think
she’s already heard about the List.  Yeah, even vampires have lists
about who has the biggest dick.  I’m on it.  She knows it. 
Tonight we play.

 

But first the hunt.  Come on little werefuck.  I’m ready. 
Always ready.