Free Blood of Gold by Duncan McGeary

the curtains and let the sunlight burn him out of existence.
    That was the story he tried to tell himself, but he knew he was lying. In truth, he loved himself, loved being a vampire, and could care less about being an FBI agent. He went hunting every night and felt no qualms about it.
    He awoke with the fall of darkness, as he did every night thanks to the internal clock that all vampires possessed. Instantly, he knew he was being hunted. They were trying to be quiet, in their clumsy human way. They were two floors down, working their way up the stairwell of the abandoned apartment building. Feller counted the footfalls. There were six of them, all young, judging by the vigorousness of their steps; all young men, and all armed, judging by the sound of confidence in their voices.
    Feller thought about slipping away, then decided, No, I’m hungry and I’m mad, and these young men need to be taught a final lesson.
    Feller wasn’t exactly sure why he hadn’t left town. Everyone in Crescent City was on high alert. The entire surviving populace knew about vampires, and gangs of youth spent every night searching the shadowy corners for the creatures of darkness. The humans had the upper hand this time. They always had the upper hand when they were aware and vigilant, for they could move around by day and by night and always had superior numbers. One on one, vampires were more dangerous, but, armed with the latest weapons, modern humans would win in the end. It was simple math.
    That was why vampires had always lurked in the shadows and caught their unsuspecting prey by surprise. As a vampire hunter, Feller had been opposed to acknowledging the existence of vampires, on the grounds that it would panic the public. Now he saw clearly that it had been simple turf-protecting on his part, self-serving, like most of his motives. He hadn’t really cared about vampires. Even the best vampire hunter usually confronted only a bare handful in a lifetime. No, the world of vampires had just been his turf to consolidate and expand.
    One thing about being a vampire: you no longer harbored illusions. You saw life clearly, in all its brutal reality.
    That’s why he was surprised by his own hesitance to leave the area. The farther he moved away from here, the more unsuspecting the humans would be. This was probably the most dangerous place on Earth for vampires, for not only was the citizenry up in arms, but possibly every professional vampire hunter in the world had descended on this one small coastal city in Northern California.
    Perhaps it was the challenge. Killing the hunters, turning the tables. That took real skill.
    As a former vampire hunter, Feller knew all the tricks. So far, he had managed to avoid any confrontations with humans who actually posed a danger. He was breaking his own rules tonight of never challenging more than three opponents at a time, but he was feeling good, feeling strong. All the burns had healed.
    When Robert had opened the curtains in that death room, Feller had been caught flat-footed. He’d fled, but not before most of his skin and a lot of his flesh had burned away. He’d hidden in the rafters of the old motel until darkness had fallen, and then flopped to the floor and fled into the chaos and destruction outside. Even the other vampires had avoided him, a skeleton with red meat on it, eyes bulging from a bare skull, the bare bones of his feet slapping against the pavement.
    He’d found a human, sniffed the little old woman out from hundreds of yards away, torn open the door of her small house and fallen on her. She had died with a resigned moan. She had only been enough to begin the healing. Many more humans had died before Feller was himself again.
    As the gang of youths crept up the staircase to his floor, laughably loud to his heightened senses, he decided to remain where he was, hidden in a closet. They would check, of course. He was counting on it.
    He heard them giggling and shushing each other. It