Kiss Of The Vampire
" The Girl with The sharp Sword part 2"
Mission 11: other side
Elisia's alarm blared like a siren in her ear, yanking her out of a dream where shadows chased her through endless Manila streets. She slapped the phone silent, heart still racing a little from whatever nightmare had gripped her. The room was stuffy, the kind of humid morning air that clung to your skin in Quezon City, even with the fan whirring lazily overhead. She lay there for a second, staring at the cracked ceiling, feeling the weight of another day pressing down. Being a detective wasn't glamorous—not like in the movies. It was endless paperwork, bad coffee, and cases that left you questioning if the world made any sense at all.
With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the cool tile floor. Her apartment was small, just a one-bedroom in a noisy building off EDSA, walls thin enough to hear the neighbors arguing over breakfast. But it was hers, a quiet spot in the chaos of the city. She padded to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and tied her dark hair back into a practical ponytail. No time for makeup today; the mirror showed tired eyes and a faint scar along her jaw from that mess with the aswang last year. It itched sometimes, a reminder that supernatural bullshit didn't care about badges or backup.
By seven, she was out the door, grabbing a quick pandesal from the corner bakery and hailing a jeepney to the station. The ride was bumpy, crammed with commuters scrolling phones or staring out at the traffic snarl. Elisia leaned against the railing, mind already turning to the new case. Bodies turning up drained in the slums—punctures on the neck, no blood at the scene, witnesses swearing they saw nothing but a blur in the dark. The brass was calling it a serial killer, but she knew better. This screamed vampire, the kind that slunk through the underbelly of the city, preying on the forgotten.
The Hunter Bureau's Philippine branch was tucked away in a nondescript government building in Intramuros, disguised as a branch of the PNP's special investigations unit. Elisia badged in, nodding to the guard who barely looked up from his newspaper. The bullpen smelled like stale adobo and printer ink, desks cluttered with files and half-empty mugs. Her partner, Ben Rayleigh, was already there, leaning against her desk with that easy grin of his, holding out a steaming cup of taho like an offering.
"Morning, Lis," he said, voice low and steady, the faint American accent from his years abroad still lingering. Ben was built like a linebacker, broad shoulders under a rumpled polo shirt, but he moved quiet, like he was always listening for something nobody else heard. "Figured you'd need this. Rough night?"
She took the cup, the warm soy pudding hitting the spot as she sank into her chair. "Dreams again. Same old crap. What's the update on our bloodsucker?"
Ben glanced around the room—cops typing reports, phones ringing—before pulling up a chair close. Nobody here knew the full truth about the Bureau, or that Ben wasn't just her partner; he was the captain, running ops from the shadows to keep the supernatural peace without tipping off the higher-ups. It was a tightrope, and Elisia was one of the few he trusted to walk it with him.
"Autopsy came back on the latest vic," he murmured, sliding a folder across. "Exsanguination, but no major wounds beyond the bites. Tox screen negative, but get this—traces of some anticoagulant in the saliva residue. Not human. Definitely vamp."
Elisia flipped through the photos, stomach twisting at the pale, lifeless faces staring back. These weren't random hits; the victims were all low-level informants, people who'd whispered about rogue creatures breaking the accords. "It's targeting snitches. Cleaning house. We need to hit the streets, talk to our contacts in Tondo before it strikes again."
Ben nodded, eyes serious now, that captain's edge creeping in. "Agreed. I've got a lead on a nest near the port—old warehouse, rumors of fresh turns. But we go careful. Last thing we need is a turf war spilling into the open."
She met his gaze, feeling that familiar mix of adrenaline and wariness bubble up. Ben had saved her ass more times than she could count, pulling her into this hidden world after her first brush with the supernatural as a rookie. There was trust there, deep and unspoken, but also questions she never asked—like why a guy with his skills stayed buried in the ranks.
"Let's gear up," she said, standing. "If this vamp's as bold as it seems, we're walking into a trap."
As they headed to the armory, Elisia felt the weight of her holster against her hip, the silver rounds loaded just in case. The city outside buzzed with life, oblivious to the monsters in its veins. But she wasn't. And today, she was going to make sure one less shadow haunted the night.
Elisia slung her bag over her shoulder as they stepped out of the armory, the weight of the stake holster and UV flashlight a familiar comfort against her hip. The Manila heat hit her the moment they pushed through the back door into the alley—thick, sticky, mixed with the smell of street food frying and exhaust from the endless jeepneys rumbling by. Ben walked beside her, his strides easy but alert, scanning the crowds like he always did. There was something about him that made people give them space without realizing why; maybe it was the way he carried himself, quiet authority wrapped in that disarming smile.
They took his beat-up Toyota through the snarled traffic of Recto, heading toward the port area where the warehouses squatted like forgotten giants along the Pasig River. The sun beat down merciless on the corrugated roofs, turning the inside of the car into an oven even with the AC cranked. Elisia cracked her window, letting in the chaotic symphony of horns and vendors hawking cigarettes and bottled water at every red light.
"You ever think this job's gonna eat us alive one day?" she asked, staring out at a group of kids kicking a deflated soccer ball in a side street. The question slipped out before she could stop it—tiredness making her guards drop a little.
Ben glanced over, his expression softening in that way that always caught her off guard. "Every damn day. But then I remember why we do it. Those bodies in the morgue? They had families waiting for them to come home. If we don't stop this thing, more dinners get cold forever."
She nodded, throat tight. He was right, of course. But the weight of it all—the secrets, the close calls, the nights she woke up tasting blood that wasn't there—pressed heavier lately. Like something was missing from her life, a shadow she couldn't name, making every victory feel hollow.
They parked a few blocks from the warehouse, far enough not to spook anyone watching. The port district was a maze of shipping containers stacked high, rusted chains clinking in the breeze off the water, gulls crying overhead like warnings. The air here smelled of salt and diesel, fish rotting in the heat, and something sharper underneath—old blood, maybe, or just her imagination running wild.
Ben led the way, moving casual like they were just inspectors checking manifests. Elisia followed, hand resting near her gun. The warehouse in question was an abandoned relic, windows boarded up, graffiti tagging the walls with gang signs and faded political slogans. A side door hung ajar, chain cut clean—recent.
Inside, the light filtered through cracks in the roof, dust motes dancing in the beams like lazy ghosts. Crates piled high created narrow aisles, shadows pooling deep in the corners. The place felt wrong immediately—too quiet, the kind of silence that screamed danger.
"Split up?" she whispered.
Ben shook his head. "Not today. Stay close."
They moved deeper, footsteps echoing soft on the concrete floor. Elisia's heart picked up, that familiar buzz of adrenaline sharpening everything: the creak of settling metal, the distant lap of water against pilings, her own breath steady but loud in her ears.
Then she saw it—a smear on the floor, dark and dried, leading toward the back. Blood trail. Fresh enough to still glint wet in the low light.
Ben spotted it too, his body tensing. He drew his sidearm, silver rounds chambered, and nodded for her to flank left.
They crept forward, aisle by aisle, until the trail ended at a makeshift nest: blankets piled in a corner, empty blood bags scattered like trash, and a figure huddled in the shadows—pale, twitching, eyes glowing faint red as it sensed them.
The vampire hissed, lips pulling back from fangs crusted with old gore. It was young, turned recently by the look—skin still holding some human color, clothes torn from whatever life it'd lost. But hunger made it bold. It lunged straight at Ben, faster than human, claws extended.
Ben sidestepped smooth, bringing his gun up, but the thing was on him quick—slamming into his shoulder, sending him staggering back into a crate that splintered under the impact. Elisia fired twice, bullets thudding into its side with wet smacks, but it barely slowed, whirling toward her with a snarl that chilled her blood.
She dodged as it swiped, claws whistling past her face close enough to feel the air displace. Her back hit a stack of boxes, pain flaring sharp, but she rolled with it, coming up with her stake in hand. The vampire charged again, feral now, tackling her to the ground in a tangle of limbs and fangs snapping inches from her throat.
Weight pinned her, breath hot and rotten against her skin. She jammed her forearm under its jaw, muscles burning as she held those teeth back, feeling the strain in her shoulders, the grit of the floor scraping her back. Ben was there in a flash—boot connecting with the thing's ribs in a solid thud that cracked bone and rolled it off her.
Elisia scrambled up, lungs heaving, and drove the stake home as it thrashed. Straight through the chest, twist for good measure. The vampire gasped, body arching once before collapsing into ash that scattered across the concrete like gray snow.
Silence rushed back in, broken only by their ragged breathing.
Ben offered a hand, pulling her to her feet. His grip lingered a second longer than needed, eyes searching hers. "You good?"
"Yeah," she managed, brushing ash from her clothes, heart still pounding wild. But the win felt bitter—another rogue down, but the nest was bigger than this. And that hollow ache? It throbbed worse now, like the fight had stirred something buried deep.
As they radioed for cleanup, Elisia couldn't shake the feeling they were just scratching the surface. This vampire was a pawn. The real killer was still out there, watching from the dark.
And somewhere in the city, another shadow was getting ready to strike.
Elisia wiped ash from her hands onto her jeans, the gray flakes drifting down like dirty snow in the dim warehouse light. Her pulse was still hammering, adrenaline making her fingers tremble just a little as she holstered her stake. The air hung thick with the copper tang of old blood and the faint, acrid burn of vamp dust. Ben stood over the pile that used to be their rogue, breathing steady but eyes scanning the shadows deeper in the building.
"Thought that was the only one," he muttered, nudging an empty blood bag with his boot. It crinkled, still slick inside. "But look at this nest. Too many bags. Too many footprints in the dust."
Elisia followed his gaze. He was right. The blankets were rumpled in multiple spots, like several bodies had curled up together for daysleep. Cigarette butts—cheap local brands—scattered around a makeshift ashtray made from a rusted tin can. And farther back, past the crates, she caught a glint of something pale moving.
Her stomach dropped.
"Ben—"
Three more shapes detached from the darkness at the far end, silent until they weren't. Low growls rolled out, hungry and wet. New turns, all of them—skin still flushed with stolen life, clothes hanging off frames that hadn't wasted away yet. But their eyes glowed that sick crimson, fangs already extended like they'd been waiting for fresh meat to walk in.
Ben swore under his breath and raised his gun. "Radio it in. Now."
Elisia yanked the Bureau comm from her belt, thumbing the emergency channel while backing up a step. "Dispatch, this is Detective Marie with Captain Rayleigh. Warehouse nest at Port Area grid seven—multiple hostiles confirmed. We have four down, but at least three more active. Request immediate backup, silver and UV support. Repeat, multiple vampires."
Static crackled, then a calm, clipped female voice answered—Mizuno, the night dispatcher who never seemed to sleep. Japanese-Filipina, sharp as a blade, always sounded like she was three steps ahead.
"Copy that, Marie. Situation logged as hot. Cleanup en route, ETA twenty minutes. Sending additional field team to your location now—Agents Kliev, Cymac, and Alicia are five minutes out from your position. Hold the site if you can. Do not engage alone if outnumbered."
"Understood," Elisia said, voice steady even as the nearest vampire hissed and took a testing step forward. "We'll keep them contained."
Ben fired first—a controlled double-tap that punched silver into the lead vamp's shoulder and knee. It shrieked, stumbling but not dropping, the wounds smoking. The other two fanned out, trying to flank.
Elisia moved with him, back to back like they'd drilled a hundred times. She flicked on her UV flashlight, the harsh blue-white beam slicing across the dark. The closest one recoiled, skin blistering where the light touched, buying them seconds.
"Left side's trying to circle," Ben warned, voice low and tight.
"I see it." She swung the beam, forcing it to duck behind a crate. Splinters exploded as Ben put two more rounds into the wood, driving it back farther.
The third vaulted over a stack of pallets, coming in high and fast. Elisia dropped to a knee, aiming up—fired once. The bullet took it in the chest mid-air, momentum carrying it forward to crash at her feet in a thrashing heap. She drove her stake down hard, felt the resistance of rib and heart give way, then the sudden collapse into ash.
But the first two were recovering, burns healing too fast for comfort. Ben shoved her sideways as claws raked the air where her head had been, then countered with a brutal elbow to the vamp's jaw that snapped its head back. It snarled, grabbing his arm, fangs flashing for his throat.
Elisia spun, UV light blinding it long enough for Ben to twist free and slam a fresh mag home. Three shots—center mass. It dropped, smoking and screaming.
The last one hesitated, eyes flicking toward the exit. For a heartbeat Elisia thought it might bolt.
Then tires screeched outside, doors slamming. Voices shouting in Tagalog and English—Bureau codes.
"Incoming!" a deep voice bellowed—Kliev, big Russian-Filipino guy built like a tank.
The remaining vampire hissed once more, then melted into the shadows toward a side door.
Cymac was already there, lean and quick, silver chain whip cracking out to snare its ankle. It went down hard. Alicia followed a second later, crossbow loaded with blessed bolts, putting two into its back before it could rise.
In seconds it was over—ash drifting in the sudden flood of Bureau flashlights.
Kliev clapped Ben on the shoulder, grinning despite the tension. "You two start the party without us?"
"Would've invited you sooner," Ben shot back, but there was relief in his voice, in the way his shoulders finally dropped a fraction.
Elisia holstered her weapon, chest heaving, and met Alicia's eyes. The other woman nodded once—silent acknowledgment that they'd all just danced a little too close to the edge again.
Mizuno's voice crackled over the comm one last time. "Site secured?"
"Affirmative," Elisia answered, glancing at the scattered ash and blood bags. "Nest neutralized. But this many new turns… someone older is making them. We're not done yet."
Outside, the Manila night pressed hot and close, sirens far away and oblivious. Inside the warehouse, six hunters stood in the dust and silence, catching their breath.
The real hunt was just starting.
To be continue