Smiling with utmost satisfaction, I licked my lips, tasting the last droplets of Esther Rosenberg's blood before dropping her corpse unceremoniously on the ground. At last, the Huntress is no more. And vampires and Hunters far and wide will know that I, Hanna Ismail is the one who brought her down. I looked at Esther Rosenberg one last time before disposing of her corpse. Even in death she remained beautiful, her glazed eyes eerily calm, granting her body an odd dignity only slightly marred by the fact that she had her throat ripped out.
It didn't have to be this way, I thought to myself, shaking my head in disgust. I walked off in the foggy London night. Just another evening in England's Capital region. On April 17, 2017, the world discovered the existence of vampires, along with werewolves, demons, monsters and various other supernatural beings. Entities that had coexisted with mankind peacefully for centuries found themselves hunted by the men and women who had been their friends, neighbors, co-workers and sometimes lovers. I guess none of that meant anything in the face of their xenophobic frenzy.
Humans are such a bigoted lot. Allah made all things, and we of the supernatural realm are but another group among His creations. What determines whether any sentient being is good or evil isn't their species or race, it's their personality and character. What drives them, and how they interact with others. All sentient beings are capable of both good and evil. It's part of what makes sense intelligent beings in the first place. Why can't humans see that?
I watched a crowd of humans drag my friend Erik Tally, ( known as Alric the friendly Troll to us non-humans ) in the streets of Berkshire and set him ablaze. They caught Erik as he shifted out of his human disguise, from the tall, bespectacled silver-haired Persian gentleman he pretended to be and into his natural self. The seven-foot-tall, vaguely humanoid creature with glowing red eyes and chartreuse skin. They killed him even though he'd done nothing to hurt them. An ancient being who'd been alive since the Pyramids of Egypt were first built. Burned to death by a horde of bigoted, intolerant humans on the streets of Berkshire.
The day I watched my friend Alric die, I lost all respect for the humans. Seriously. How could I respect such a wicked race? I haven't been a vampire long but I am confident that I will survive. You see, long before the majority of humans discovered the existence of the supernatural, a select group among them known as the Hunters culled our numbers regularly. If you are a vampire, a werewolf, a shape-shifter, a Troll, a Golem, a Merman or Mermaid, or anything other than Homo Sapiens, they tracked you down and killed you. Most of the Hunters were recruited among former cops, soldiers, etc.
The Hunters were feared and hated by all of us, but they're nothing compared to the mobs assaulting random non-humans who've been exposed to them. They've got these DNA-scanning machines known as Detectors now, and with them, they can detect even the most clever among us. Take shape-shifters for example. They're among the oldest breed among all supernatural entities but even they cannot fool the Detectors. You see, if you can make yourself look like any person you've ever laid eyes on, you can get away with a lot but your DNA is still the same, it's your outward appearance that changes, not your basic genetic makeup. So, yeah, you're still you, only disguised. The Detectors have wreaked havoc among the shape-shifter community.
The person who invented these diabolical devices is Sharon Rosenberg, the Commander-in-Chief of the N.H.E.U. or Non-Human Elimination Unit. My former best friend Esther called her mom, once upon a time. This woman will not be pleased when she finds out that her daughter, the Huntress par excellence and a legendary hero among those who hate the supernatural, is now worm food. As you may have guessed, Esther and I go way back. In fact, we were once neighbors.
When my parents, Omar and Hodan Ismail moved to London, England, from Mogadishu, Somalia, in 1989, they didn't know Jack about western culture or life in Great Britain. I was born a year later, complicating things for the struggling immigrant couple. Sharon Rosenberg, then a police constable with the London Police force and a former social worker, proved to be our closest friend. Her daughter Esther became my best friend. We were inseparable, right until our graduation from Saint Joseph Academy. I opted to study bio-chemistry at Brunel University and Esther went to study business at Oxford University. Nevertheless, we kept in touch via Facebook and Skype. On weekends we'd hang out in London, just two girls walking through Europe's oldest town without a care in the world.
On the surface, Esther Rosenberg and I couldn't be more different. I'm five-foot-eleven, busty, curvy and big-bottomed, with caramel skin, long curly black hair and almond-shaped golden brown eyes. I have often been told that I look exotic, whatever that means. My father was half Somali and half Arab, so I guess I get it from him. I don't really know nor do I care. I am only, well, me. Esther is five-foot-nine, stocky, with reddish brown hair, light green eyes and freckles everywhere. The most Irish-looking British gal in all of London, I swear. Our friends nicknamed us Red and Caramel. We were inseparable.
When Esther revealed to me that she was a lesbian, I didn't care and fully supported her. Her own mother, London Police captain Sharon Rosenberg became estranged from her over her 'lifestyle' choice. Esther and I grew closer together. A lot of people are surprised that I fully support gay marriage and causes like that because I'm a Muslim gal from Somalia. I'm supposed to be conservative, set in my ways and intolerant. I'm anything but. That's okay, though. As a hijab-wearing Muslim gal, I'm used to people judging me before getting to know me.
Esther always had my back. When I met and subsequently fell in love with Charles Eugene Pierre, a six-foot-tall and burly, gorgeously dark-skinned guy from the island of Haiti, Esther was the only person I could talk to about him. Charles, a civil engineering student at Middlesex University at the time was visiting his sister Nadine at Brunel, when we bumped into each other. The dude was lost because he'd never been to our campus before and like the helpful sister that I am, I showed him around. We added each other on Facebook and exchanged numbers along the way, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Now, this might seem odd to you if you're unfamiliar with Islam or Muslim family dynamics but my parents were less than thrilled when they found out I was dating Charles. For starters, he's neither Somali nor Muslim. The guy was a crucifix-wearing Catholic and didn't know Jack about Islam. Yet somehow, we fell in love. I had to keep our romance a secret from my folks because, while Muslim guys can date and marry women from any religion, Muslim women are forbidden from doing the same. Esther was my only supporter through this ordeal.
Charles and I were in love, and he revealed something astonishing to me one night. We were walking through East London, coming home from the movies when these three guys from the English Defence League attacked us with baseball bats. With a ferocity that stunned me, Charles surged at them and easily defeated them with his bare hands. As the last League member fell to the ground and lay still, Charles turned to look at me. That's when I noticed his eyes were yellow now, and his teeth were wickedly sharp. I should have ran but I didn't. Instead, I asked him to explain.