Thirty-six hours before, Josephine watched through her binoculars the homeless man searching through the trash can. He had a bald spot, but it was hard to tell with the dirt covering the man in big blotches all over his body. He grinned, exposing that his two front teeth were missing, as he retrieved a half-eaten burger wrapped in a blue and yellow paper with the words, “Golden Arches” printed in cursive.

“God, what I’d give to have one of those right now,” said Josephine under her breath. Her stomach grumbled.

She pulled away her binoculars and leaned back on the small building that held a generator. She took out a candy bar and began eating. It was early in the morning. Usually vampires by this time would hide in a basement or some dark place sleeping.

However, sometimes at this time of day, there was not enough sunlight to hurt a vampire if they were quick, covered themselves or even had on a really good sunblock. She chuckled at the last part. Sunblock didn’t work, but some movies ran with it.

“And that poor man is going to be someone’s breakfast, “ she said to herself softly.

She should do something. She should kill the vampire whom she had seen stalking the homeless man from the shadows of the apartment complex. Unconsciously, she reached into her pockets of her jacket and felt the handles of her trusty pistol in their holsters. She shook her head. No, that part of her life was long gone.

She no longer hunted the creatures that stalked the night. No longer served the Order to protect the innocence. Now she hunted a different kind of creature.

She turned into the direction to a pointed rooftop of a church. Her family were antique dealers and recognizing pricey old things was natural for her. A smile curled as her eyes gazed at the exquisite stained glass windows that lined the side of the church. Even at the distance she was at and without the aid of her binoculars, she could clearly see the multiple colors reflecting off old stained glass. By her estimation, the glass had to be a little over a hundred years and would fetch easily six figures.

She sighed. Too bad those stained glass windows were part of a church that housed her target.

Her teeth clenched. Her eyes narrowed. After all the time she spent tracking the motherfucker, he was finally within her grasp once more. Now all she has to do is pick the right moment to make her move.

Speaking of the right moment. She took her binoculars and turned back to the homeless man. The man had just finished eating the burger when a dark shadow grabbed him and pulled him into an alleyway. There were no screams or sounds of thrashing.

She shrugged. It was too late to act. The homeless man was now that vampire’s breakfast. Perhaps she felt a tinge of guilt, but not really. She looked at her watch and nodded. It was now, or she will have to wait for months for the next opportunity.

***

The doorknob rattled a few seconds before finally clicking and the door opened. A wizen man draped in a black robe of a priest entered the room. He was humming a song he couldn’t get out of his head.

The light from the hall spilled into the room. Books and papers were on the ground, a few chairs overturned and all the drawers in his desk were opened. He switched on the light and saw even more devastation.

“What in the Holy Father?“ he blurted, his English accent strong. Did someone rob them? He couldn’t believe that. There was nothing valuable in the room worth selling in the streets.

He took a step in.

Bang!

The door behind him closed. He snapped around and came to face a tall woman, a little over six foot, in a hooded jacket. The shadow of her hood obscured her face but he could see threads of golden hair and her sapphire colored eyes. “Who are you? Why did you steal from the church?” he demanded.

“You’re late, Father George. I was about to leave,“ said the woman.

Father George recoiled at the immediate recognition of the voice. “Josephine?”

“In the flesh,“ said Josephine. She took a step forward and pulled down her hood. If she were a vampire, she’d be baring her fangs. Instead, she pulled back her jacket to reveal two pistols in their hostlers. "Tricking those vampires in London to come after me was a waste. Their master was not pleased his bloodlings were being used by the Order.”

“I couldn’t risk any more lives on you,“ spat Father George. He looked at the corner of the shadows. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He gripped the hanging cross on his necklace.

“For Christ’s sake,” said Josephine, noticing where his eyes were looking. “Don’t be stupid! I didn’t stash those vampires in here. I killed them all.”

“Then what? If you’re not with them then why? Why against the very Order that is in your veins, your bloodline?“ said Father George. His face was now slick with sweat.

“You know damn well why,” snapped Josephine. She placed a hand on one of her holsters. She will make this quick despite her wanting to torture the priest before killing him.

“Don’t,“ pleaded Father George. He started to back away, thinking of any way out of his situation. Was it hopeless?

"Don’t what? Kill you?” Josephine pulled out one of her guns. This gun had a particularly large and long barrel. “Make your prayer.”

Father George suddenly relaxed and placed a hand over his heart. He looked at her straight in the eye and spoke, “I forgive you.”

“Go to Hell.“ Josephine pulled the trigger.

There was no sound, but there was a puff of white smoke at the mouth of the gun where a bullet had shot out.

Father George snapped back into a chair behind him and then slumped in an awkward sitting position. At first there was just a hole in the middle of his forehead but then, in a blink, blood started flowing out.

Josephine holstered her gun. "Now let’s see if he has it on his body.”

She checked the dead priest’s pockets and found nothing. She frowned as she started patting down his robe for some secret compartment in his clothes. Nothing.

Then her eyes saw the cross that the priest had gripped earlier. She yanked the cross off from the simple chain and examined it. Then her eyes narrowed as she flipped the cross and saw the blinking red led light.

“Fucking asshole.“

Josephine dashed behind a nearby bookcase and hunkered down.

The rounds of bullets pierced through the door in a barrage of holes. Books, papers and even bits of the heavy desk flew. A grey gun-powdered smoke filled the room. When the door opened up, it fell out of its hinges in a heavy thud.

“Still alive?” called out a deep voice.

Josephine grimaced as she looked over to where Father George was slumped in. He was now looking like grounded meat. Half of his face and parts of his torso was on the floor in fine pieces.

“Coming in then!“

A large, built, dark man dressed in a long black coat came in with an automatic rifle at this hip. He looked around scanning for her, ignoring the dead priest. "I know you are still here,” he bellowed. He noticed the bookcase had not been touched and his lips twitched slightly. He lifted his rifle at it.

“Can you just let me go this one time for old time's sake?“ called out Josephine as she took out her shorter barrelled gun and cocked it. The silencer one would not do well against a man with a semi-automatic.

The man lowered his rifle momentarily. “I cannot allow you to leave. The Order commanded capturing you alive but,” the man hesitated. “ I prefer you dead.”

Josephine smiled. She didn’t expect any less from him. Charles was his name, and they had been hunting buddies for a short period when she had come into the Order eight years ago. “Well, since you want to kill me so bad how about we take it outside?” she said.

“Do you expect me to just let you walk out here and we shoot each other to death?“ scoffed Charles.

“Yeah, sorta. I was actually going to dance my way out. Game?” she called out. She remembered the stained glass windows and found one near to her.

“You’re full of shit–“

Taking as a cue, Josephine dashed toward the stained glass window. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Charles lift his rifle. She jumped at the stained window the moment he fired.

Bullets sprayed and a few of them caught Josephine in her right shoulder and left calf as she smashed into the window. Instinctively, she rolled onto the concrete pavement and got onto her feet. Behind her, she could hear Charles howling out a curse. Adrenaline pumping in her veins, she barely registered her wounds as she ran.

Where to? She banked hard around the corner. She couldn’t be seen. Too many witnesses and she may have a problem. She looked up ahead and saw the building she had been using to scope out the church. “Rooftop it is,” she said under her breath. At least she could make Charles death seem like an accident.

The sound of a revving engine had her looking back. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Charles on a motorcycle coming at her. His bald head gleamed under the light like a miniature halo.

“Goddamn,“ she cursed as she sprinted toward the alleyway that bordered the building.

When she arrived, she found the rope she had used to climb down.

Then it came.

It wasn’t often but always, if her life was to end, it came unannounced. It came like a shadowy hand that sucked her out of where she was and into a dark room with only a rectangle of light in front of her. In that light she would watch what would happen.

And what will happen is that Charles would enter the alleyway and stop in front of the rope as she was nearing the ledge of the building. He’d then take out his rifle and shoot. She watched herself get hit and fall off the rope. Then she died, sprawled on the floor of the alleyway, with Charles praying over her body.

“That was a really stupid plan,” she said to herself as she snapped back into the present. She took a step back from the rope. Time was short and she could no longer go with her initial plan of going to the rooftop and battle Charles there. Then what? she thought. Run? No, he’ll catch up. I have to hide.

She looked over and caught a pile of trash. She closed her eyes tight and had to fight the urge to hurl at the thought of hiding in there. Yeah he’d definitely wouldn’t think I’d be there, she thought. The sound of the motorcycle was getting louder, so she quickly dove into the pile of trash.

Josephine had barely enough time to cover any exposed area with whatever trash she could get her hands on and lower her breath when Charles appeared in front of the alleyway, stopping at the entrance. She watched him put his motorcycle on its stand and got off and entered the alleyway. He looked around before approaching the slightly swinging rope. Then he stopped in front of the rope and tugged on it. For a moment, he was still. Was Charles contemplating if this was a trap or perhaps a foolish mistake she had made?

The thought of pulling out her gun and shooting him crossed Josephine’s mind but, now feeling the bullet wounds in her right shoulder and left calf, she would not be fast enough against his semi-automatic rifle. She needed to keep hiding and then... she watched Charles start to climb up the rope with one arm holding his rifle.

Josephine's eyes then wandered down to the motorcycle where she caught the gleam of keys. She had to stop herself from laughing. Charles had left his keys in his motorcycle! What an idiot, she thought. She waited until she could see Charles go over the building’s ledge and out of sight.

Not wasting another moment, she burst out of the trash and ran, now with a limp, to the motorcycle. She hopped on it and immediately drove off as fast as she could. She did not look back upon hearing the fire-crackling sound of an automatic rifle going off behind her.