Mini-story: "The Hunt for Revenge"

[I wrote this for my Creative Writing class, my senior year of high school.  I found it while searching for my notes on a few different storylines...  Written September 9, 2005.  Mini-short story.  It's a little--well, more than a little--dark and very rough around the edges.  Just remember that I wrote it in high school, please!]

The Hunt for Revenge

  Knowing that no one would have the guts to touch her, she walked down the center of the deserted street.  Sporting a black suit with pink pinstripes that made her taller, she glared out from under the tilted derby hat.  Somebody was going to pay and she didn't care who the victim was, as long as someone was hurt.

  The pastel pink blouse she wore under her suit was unbuttoned, showing just enough cleavage that would ensure that she got what she wanted.  Guns were only used when her "valley" didn't work, but even then she preferred the intimacy of a knife.  Knives made you get up and personal with your victim, making you stare into his eyes as he dies.  Guns... guns are for cowards.  Is that what her "family" had become?

  As she walked up the driveway to the household in question, she saw the curtains drawn and the lights switched off, heard the children being ushered out the backdoor and told to run away as fast and quietly as possible.  Was it she that they feared?  "I should be feared," she thought as she approached the door.

  Not bothering to knock, she threw open the door.  "Where's Monsieur Masqurrr?"  she ordered as the back door was shut.  She had the woman, who she assumed was his wife, by the neck.  Squeezing tightly, she let the woman know that she was not playing.  "I can break your spine in a second.  Do not underestimate me.  I will get what I want, Madame Masqurrr.  Now tell me where he is."

  The woman paled with fear.  Her unnaturally piercing blue eyes stared into the mirror on the other side of the room.  The only reflection showing was her own, bent awkwardly.  The woman gasped and tried to claw out of the grasp.  The hand on her neck was cold and hard as death.  "What ARE you?" she cried out.

  The suited one spoke quietly and calmly, "I can see you will not give me the answer I seek."  She tightened her grip and listened as the other woman's neck crushed in her hand.  As the body sunk to the floor, the suited one looked into the mirror where her reflection should have been.  "i am the Vampyre Isabella and I answer to no one.  I will find Monsieur Masqurrr and make him pay for killing Jacques."