⸻
Title: Blood Owed
Genre: Supernatural Crime Thriller
⸻
The sun was beginning to set over behind the city buildings, causing shadows to lay over the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. The ports were busy with fisherman and cargo ships. Everyone rushing about to quit work for the day and go home to their families. Or dogs, which ever the case may be.
The city of Portland, Maine buzzed. Busy as ever, despite there being a serial killer on the loose. But, what no one knew. He was sitting in an interrogation room with two Maine State detectives.
The room was cold—steel chairs scraped against concrete, and a flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead like a dying wasp.
Detective Marcus Hale sat with one leg crossed, chewing the cap of his pen. He was in his late 40s, black with sharp eyes and a neatly trimmed goatee. Ex-military, still held himself like it. His partner, Detective Eva Ramirez, leaned against the wall in a fitted blazer, arms crossed, her dark brown eyes locked on the suspect like a sniper waiting for a clean shot.
Across the table sat Thomas Connolly —a man who, at first glance, looked like he belonged in a library, not a cell. Mid-30s, pale skin, hair combed neatly to the side, clean fingernails. But his button-up shirt was stained with something dark—possibly blood—and his glasses were cracked down the middle. There was an unsettling stillness about him.
“Mr. Connolly,” Hale said, voice calm. “You know why you’re here.”
Thomas didn’t respond. He stared at the one-way mirror, as if waiting for it to blink.
Ramirez pushed off the wall. “Four victims in six weeks. All found in the woods just outside Portland. Hearts removed. Symbols carved into their skin.” She tossed a manila folder onto the table. Photos spilled out—bodies, mangled and drained.
Thomas finally looked at her. “They weren’t victims,” he said flatly. “They were offerings.”
Hale raised an eyebrow. “Offerings to who?”
Connolly smiled. “Not who. What.”
⸻
Ramirez sat down across from him, studying his face. “You’ve been in every town where the disappearances happened. Your fingerprints were found on the victims. You’re either a killer… or you’re about to tell us one hell of a story.”
Thomas leaned in slowly, eyes glinting. “You don’t get it. I didn’t kill them. I delivered them.”
Hale scoffed. “To who?”
Connolly tilted his head. “To Him. I owed him. We all do, eventually.”
Ramirez’s jaw clenched. “You’re playing games. These are real people who died horribly.”
“They didn’t die,” Thomas said. “They were consumed.”
Suddenly, the lights cut out.
The buzzing stopped. The hum of the AC died. For a second, there was silence—then the emergency red lights kicked in, bathing the room in crimson.
“What the hell—?” Hale stood, hand moving toward his gun.
Through the glass of the observation window, they heard a few gun shots followed by a scream. Then another. A wet, gurgling sound. Something heavy slammed against the glass.
Ramirez reached for her radio. “Dispatch—what’s going on out there?”
Only static.
Thomas sat still, eyes wide with… admiration.
“He’s here,” he whispered. “You’re too late.”
The door to the interrogation room creaked open—by itself.
And then, he stepped in.
⸻
He was tall—unnaturally so—dressed in a long black coat, his skin white like paper soaked in milk. His face was ageless, inhumanly perfect except for the black sclera of his eyes and sharp yellow irises. Blood dripped from his lips.
“Thomas,” the vampire purred, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.
“Master,” Thomas replied, dropping to one knee.
Hale fired.
The bullet hit the creature in the chest—and dropped to the floor like a pebble.
The vampire moved faster than vision. In an instant, Ramirez’s neck was snapped, her body hitting the floor with a sickening thud. Hale managed to draw a breath before the vampire seized him by the throat, lifted him off the ground, and sank his fangs into his neck like a straw into flesh.
Blood sprayed across the wall.
Moments later, both detectives were dead.
⸻
Thomas stood alone with his master, blood pooling around his feet.
“Well, now I’m full. So much for going undetected,” the vampire said. “One more, and your debt is paid.”
Thomas nodded. “One more.”
And then, just like that, they vanished—leaving behind nothing but corpses, silence, and the faint hum of power returning to the station.
⸻
Add comment
Comments