Slay

By William Shaw

Loving a vampire hunter is hard.

Partly, it’s the mess. Cloves of garlic, blood trodden into carpets, salt rings round the bed.

Parents are another issue, religious ones especially.

“Darling, why have these crosses been sharpened?”

It’s tough, but hunters always understand. They have to. When misreading someone makes the difference between public good and senseless murder, emotional intelligence counts for a lot.

I’ll never forget how she dealt with me. Her static, patient face, those steady arms. She made me talk, choked me back into making sense. I was grateful. Happy, even.

The hardest part was showing her the bite.