I know I really shouldn't be starting a new story when I still need to update all my other ones (which shall be soon, I promise), but the idea wouldn't leave me alone for some reason. Well, here ya go. Enjoy.

PoV is Allen's.

Eighty-five. The number rang loudly in my ears as my stake bit into the creature's heart, effectively ending its life. Eighty-five. That's how many times I should have died.

I should be dead. Why wasn't I dead?

Withdrawing the stake, I rolled my shoulders, forcing the stiff joints to relax as the body before me slumped to the cold cement floor. I waited impatiently for the tell-tale sign of the death of the creature. I was rewarded for it after a few minutes and the body began crumpling into a fine ash. Kneeling down, I filled a small pouch full of the substance, gagging at the thought of touching it. When the task was complete, I rose back up before scattering the remnants. Narrowing my eyes, I turned and slipped back the way I came, crawling between what was left of the broken window, doing my best to avoid cutting myself on the sharp edges of glass. I still ended up with a shallow cut across my left cheek, adding to the vertical scar that already marred the flesh. Irritation flared through me for a moment before I could help myself, acutely aware of the thin line of blood that made a slow descent down my skin. I brushed it away, knowing I only made it worse by smearing it.

I kept my stake out, knowing the creatures I hunted often traveled in pairs. And by creatures, I referred to vampires. The bad kind. There were four types of them in the world. The first was the classic rip-out-your-throat-to-drink-your-blood with red eyes and the dirty look that said they hadn't bathed since they were turned.

Then there was the "civilized" kind that fed without killing and often kept human feeders around as a food source, and like the their insane cousins, had red eyes, or at the least, the ring surrounding them.

The third type were half-vamps. Either they were born to a human and vampire parent, or had drunk the blood of the creature without donating their own. It let them take the best of both worlds, with only the occasional need for blood when their own was depleted, e.g.: bleeding half to death, etc.

The fourth and final, was the humans with recessive genes, either from having an ancestor that was a vampire, or had an open wound come in direct contact with the blood of a vampire. They were lucky and shouldn't even have their own category, seeing as they were still alive and normal and most times didn't even know about the gene. Turning was as low as five percent or less.

I fell into the third category. Hurray for me, I thought with a sigh. Being half-vampire was fine and all, and it made me the perfect weapon against the monsters that made up the image of the entire race, but it also left me very vulnerable. My mix of blood, running so strong with human and vampire traits, was like liquid gold, to every creature. Taking even a drop held all the benefits without endangering the receiver with the vampire virus. More than once I had learned this. It wasn't until…

I unconsciously raised a hand and held it to the hollow of my throat, feeling the raised lines of a golden tattoo blooming across my skin. It was the only thing that kept anyone with an interest in my blood from acquiring it. To touch me was like asking for death. And those that didn't understand, or ignored, the warning, I dispatched myself. It was a mark saying I was the… "property" of another, very powerful vampire. This almighty irritation was one of the "civilized" vampires – meaning he had more creative ways to kill you without actually getting blood on his clothes.

Again, the number eighty-five flashed through my mind. That was how many times I should have died, had I not been claimed as the personal entrée for someone quite high in the food chain.

I shivered at the thought. I could have done worse, but I could probably have bid myself for someone even better – or at least someone with a better attitude. But manners aside, if there were any at all, I knew I was in safe claws, er, hands. At least, as safe as I could be under his protection. But that didn't leave me defenceless – far from it. I was a Hunter – born and bred (figuratively speaking) to kill any creature that would threaten me, or my benefactor.

Looking up at the sky, I watched the dawn light soak the land in bloody colors. I frowned, remembering that old rhyme for sailors. Red sky at night, a sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.

I could feel a tingle in the back of my mind and knew I was being summoned. Neither my benefactor nor myself would ignore an omen like this. I just wondered if it meant the war would be starting soon.

So, yeah. Tell me what you think. Can anyone guess what might happen from here on out, or anything at all? Take a thought and we'll see, yeah? Anyway, reviews are always appreciated, especially for prologues and pilot chapters like this.