Jolyne Brooks did not believe in God.
It was a rather bold statement to make, all things considered. Given where she lived, saying such a thing would more than likely make her a black sheep amongst the people of Creston; a back water tourist town located just about a few miles away from the US-Canadian border.
Most people in Creston were devout Christians in some way, shape, or form. Either you were Catholic, Mormon, or you were a Jehovah's Witness. Of course, there were other sects, like the Latter-Day Saints, the Presbyterians, the Mennonites, amongst others. But compared to the first three they didn't have much of a presence.
Jolyne never really cared for that sort of thing. Not because she wanted to be different, or cool, or anything edgy like that. She simply did not believe in an organized religion. Her parents might have, but she didn't. While they weren't happy with her choice, that didn't change their relationship.
In fact, Jolyne had gone all eighteen years of her life not believing in any sort of God. Even when she was just a small, innocent, starry-eyed little baby she never really jived with that sort of thing.
Although, given her appearance, it wouldn't take someone long to figure out that she wasn't in with that sort of crowd.
Jolyne Sarah Mary Brooks, as per her full legal name, was a girl of average height standing at 165 centimeters. She had a slim build with small shoulders, noodle-adjacent arms, and a thin figure. Her hair, styled in that of a traditional bob, sat atop her head with rounded bangs and two long strands that framed her face like that of a portrait.Her skin was a shade of peach, and her eyes were round and the colour green. Speaking of colours, her hair was dyed. Naturally, it was a shade of brown, more akin to the colour of an oak wood. Now, though, it was dyed black and pink—black on the left, pink on the right.
She wore a short sleeve, black GAP shirt that cut off just slightly above the stomach, revealing her belly button, which was pierced with a purple star piercing. Alongside that, she wore a pair of faded light blue jeans with tear sin the knees, and a pair of white and red slip-on Adidas shoes.Her nails were painted black, and she had a silver banded ring on her middle finger, embroidered with a deep purple amethyst. She also had studded, dark blue ear piercings, and a silver tongue piercing. That last one she got just to piss her mom off. Something about "defiling her God-given body" and "giving into sin" or whatever the like.
Some of her friends had a similar fashion sense to her, others didn't. She wasn't trying to be unique or trying to stand out in the crowd. She just wanted to be authentic to herself. She didn't like attention anyway, but a lot of people, mostly her classmates and some of her teachers at Kootenay River Secondary School claimed it was exactly for that.To those people, she couldn't give less of a damn.It was currently 9:35 pm, and she was walking home from a friend's house down on Crowsnest Highway, near the RaceTrac gas station. It was a fifty minute trek to Cook street, where she lived, which itself was an eight minute walk to school.
It was dark out, seeing as it was the middle of October. It was also wet, with it having rained not too long ago. The air was damp with moisture, and the winds were cold. She regretted not bringing a jacket, but then again when did she ever think ahead? Halloween was in a few short days—five, to be exact—and apparently it was supposed to snow.
Then again, this wasCreston. The weather was never typically trackable, at least not reliably.
The sound of Jolyne's shoes hitting the sidewalk pavement rang out in the empty, dark town. A shiver crawled down her back as she let out a shuddering sigh. "Damn woman… Couldn't have picked me up. But no, I have to walk home! Stupid, annoying, harpy." Jolyne muttered, eyebrows knit as she rubbed her arms in a vain attempt to stay warm.
She had called her mother not but a few minutes ago, just as she was leaving her friend Samatha's house to see if she could pick her up. Her mother, in what most would call petty stubbornness, told her to walk home since she didn't want to go to Church this Sunday.
Her father was already asleep, since he had gotten up at three in the morning to head off to work. Being a police officer on call didn't help with having a normal sleep schedule, she supposed. That and she didn't want to wake him up. Jolyne was an only child, and her parents were content with that. They didn't want a large family, and in today's economy, where it cost around about just under six dollars for a four-liter jug of milk, she wouldn't argue with them on that. Even if it did get a little lonely around the house when both of her parents were at work or at church.
A foggy breath escaped her lips as she looked around her surroundings. Thanks to the occasional street light, she was able to make out which direction was which. She had done this walk more than enough times during the day to know that she was on the right track, as she crossed through another neighbourhood.
Granted, those walks were to Erickson street to the edge of Moore road, where her father, or mother if she wasn't being petty, would pick her up. So afterward, she'd be lost. It was just off of a highway, and her mother was crazy if she thought she was walking on the bloody highwayjust to get home.
Thankfully, her father had a friend in the force. His name was Trevor Samson, a common rank-and-file officer of the local RCMP. She had his number saved for occasions like this, when her mother was being a prick.
Taking her phone, a Samsung Galaxy A15, out of her pants pocket, she opened up the contacts app and scrolled till she found Trevor's number. Tapping the icon and speed-dialing, she stood just at the edge of the crosswalk from one end to the other, tapping her foot impatiently on the curb. It didn't take long for Trevor to pick up, thankfully. "Hey, Jojo."
"Sup, Trevor. Look, I hate having to call you, but—"
"You don't have to say it. I already figured you were calling 'cause you needed a ride home, right?" Trevor interrupted, getting straight to the point. His voice was a little gruff, which given the fact he was in his late 40s to early 50s—she was pretty sure he was at least 49—that made sense. Her Dad wasn't much younger either, somewhere around 46.
"You guessed it. Hit the nail right on the head." Jolyne said through an irritated groan. "Mom's being petty about me not going to Church this Sunday."
Trevor sighed. "Figures. Susan's always been that way. Alright, where ya at?"
"About fifteen minutes away from Moore road."
"Moore road? Are you kiddin'? She left you out all the way there?"
"Wouldn't be the first time." Jolyne quipped dryly. "How long will you be?"
"Eight minutes. I'm at Samuelson street visiting my nephew. I'll pop on by. Just don't leave that spot, whatever you do. Moore road is known for some creepy stuff at night. You got somethin' on ya?"
"Aren't you a cop?"
"Yeah, but I ain't stupid." Trevor said, chuckling to himself. "'sides, not every officer on the force is a stickler for the rules."
"Uh-huh." Jolyne said, glancing around. The neighbourhood she was in had all the lights out. She must've stumbled into the area where most of the old folks lived. Not that it was a bad thing, but it made it a little bit more creepy. "It's whatever. It's not like I'm actually on Moore road. I'm fifteen minutes away. None of the "spooky stuff" is going to get me, old man."
"Don't get snippy with me, Jojo. Just trust me, okay? Don't go too far. I'll be eight to ten minutes. Where are you exactly?" Jolyne glanced around, and spotted the Creston Taxi Service building. Her friend lived only a minute away, on the same street. She had only just left her house, after all.
"I'm across the street from The Creston Taxi Service building on 32nd Avenue, South. Please hurry up, it's cold, and I don't wanna get sick."
"Alright, alright. I'm comin'." And with that, Trevor hung up, prompting Jolyne to put her phone back in her pocket. She let out yet another sigh, before wrapping her arms up to her shoulders, rubbing them for warmth.
It was negative three degrees, and with the clothes she was wearing, she'd be lucky to not have the shivers for the next few days. Jolyne was extremely thankful for Trevor. He was beyond a godsend. "When I get back, I'm gonna give that harpy a piece of my mind." Jolyne thought, scowling. It was just as she finished that thought that she noticed something, or more rather, someone, across the street from her.
She couldn't make out the finer details, but all she could tell was that they were pretty athletic looking and tall. She could also tell that they were staring at her, prompting her scowl to deepen.
Jolyne wasn't a fan of people staring at her—most people weren't, at least she thought so anyway. Narrowing her eyes to try and get a better look at the individual across the road, she blinked, and they were gone. "Huh?" Jolyne mumbled, before a hand grasped her shoulder.
She froze, her eyes widening as she felt her heart beat pick up dramatically. She turned her head to look behind her and up, and the only thing she saw looking back at her were a pair of bright red eyes with slit pupils, shrouded in the ebony blackness of night. The hand on her shoulder was a sickly shade of pale white, and the individual's fingers had sharp, pointed nails that almost resembled claws.
Terror swarmed her mind, as several horrifying thoughts stormed about in her consciousness, all the while she stood frozen in fear. It was only then, after a second of thought, that she tried to do something, anything to get them to let go.
"Let go of me, you creep!" Jolyne shouted, trying to ram her free shoulder into his stomach, but the individual did not even so much as budge a millimeter. They stood stock still, completely unphased, like a brick wall. Her shoulder hurt a little after the impact. A hiss escaped her lips in a cloud of frosty mist, only for the individual to turn her around to face them.
Abruptly, with their other hand, they grabbed her chin and forced Jolyne to crane her head up to stare them in the eyes. It was thanks to that she got a closer look at their face.
The individual, evidently a man, looked to be in his early 20s, with slicked back black hair and a V-shaped hairline. They wore a priest's attire, given the collar they wore had one of those white lines in it, and they wore a golden cross necklace.
"I'm terribly sorry for what I'm going to do, but I am quite peckish. You just so happen to be the only person around. Don't worry though, I won't leave you with nothing. Just a pint or two should do the trick," the man said as Jolyne stared at him, horrified and confused. A pint or two? Was he talking about her blood?
"H-huh—"
"I don't have any hypnosis powers, otherwise I'd make you forget this and help numb the pain. But…! Oh, to hell with it." And without any warning, the man's mouth snapped open, revealing two large canine fangs, easily the size of her pointer finger, which seemed to grow larger by the second.
Jolyne let out a blood curdling scream, as the man's mouth snapped around her jugular, his fangs sinking deep into her skin as he bent over, his back arched as he pulled her in close. Jolyne's eyes widened as she gasped, her breath hitching and her arms shooting downward, pointed toward the ground. Her skin rippled, and her breathing sounded like choking gasps.
Pain racked across her body as she tried to move her hands to grab the man by the throat, but she couldn't move. She couldn't do anything. All she could feel washer warm blood sliding down the outside of her throat, and cascading down her shirt, staining it with its colour.
With each passing second, the man squeezed, pushing her in closer and closer. Her fingers twitched, her pupils shrank, and her gasping became dryer and dryer. Blood spilled over messily, as she could feel claws digging into her back. It was like a hug of death, crushing and painful, and it only got worse by the second.
Finally, after a full minute of being forced into this position, the man let go, pulling his mouth away from her neck as Jolyne fell to the ground with a thud. Twitching, in pain, and gasping for air, all she could do was look up at her attacker, who was wiping blood away from his mouth.
A cold chill washed over her body as he stood, looming over her with a gleam in his eyes. She felt her eyelids become heavy, her body became still.
Was this it? Was this how she died? If this was it, then she'd be pretty damn pissed. She didn't want to die, she had her whole life ahead of her! She wasn't going to have it stolen away by some monster priest!
She couldn't die.
She didn't want to die.
She just wanted to go home.
Before her consciousness could fully fade away, the man spoke once again, only this time, his tone was much, much more ominous than before.
"Do not worry, you will not die, my lambkin."
And then, there was nothing.