Yes / No / Dead
At 2:13 in the morning, Mara accepted three jobs.
One was a $14.75 pharmacy delivery to a townhouse off Queens Boulevard.
One was a $22.40 “priority pickup” for a drunk man who had ordered chicken wings from a place nine blocks from his apartment.
The third was a contract on Kalshi.
WILL THERE BE A CONFIRMED VAMPIRE KILL IN NEW YORK CITY BEFORE 5:00 A.M.?
YES: 63¢
NO: 39¢
Mara bought two hundred YES contracts.
Then she loaded the crossbow.
Rent was due Tuesday.
This was America now.
The vampire problem started small.
At least that’s what the city said.
Three bodies in SoHo. Two in Bushwick. A girl in Astoria found hanging upside down in a stairwell with no blood left in her body and an Uber Eats order still warm beside her.
The mayor called them “unusual nocturnal incidents.”
The NYPD called them ongoing investigations.
TikTok called them vampires before anybody else did, because TikTok occasionally reached the truth by sprinting barefoot through twelve miles of bullshit.
Then the markets arrived.
They always do.
War.
Elections.
Disease.
Celebrity deaths.
Interest rates.
Now monsters.
Within six months, people were trading contracts on confirmed vampire sightings, kills, infestations, and whether certain neighborhoods would be placed under curfew.
Everybody had an angle.
Everybody had a referral code.
Mara hunted because she was good at it.
She traded because killing vampires without hedging the outcome felt financially irresponsible.
Her partner, Ellis, drove a twelve-year-old Honda Civic that smelled like garlic, wet wool, and french fries.
His phone was mounted to the dashboard with three different apps open.
DoorDash.
TaskRabbit.
Hunter.
Hunter was technically still in beta.
Independent Threat Mitigation Marketplace.
Nobody called it that.
You opened the app.
You selected your radius.
Then the jobs populated.
Possible Nest. Basement. $180.
Escort Requested. Night Shift Nurse. $65.
Corpse Verification. Staten Island. $40 + toll.
Vampire Elimination. Surge Pricing Active. $375.
No insurance.
No benefits.
No guarantee the client wasn’t already dead.
Ellis glanced at Mara.
“You bought YES?”
“Two hundred.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m diversified.”
“You put eight hundred bucks on us killing something before five.”
“That’s not exactly what I did.”
“That is exactly what you did.”
She checked the market again.
YES had moved to 68¢.
“Up five cents.”
Ellis shook his head.
“Civilization deserved this.”
The app sent them to Jackson Heights.
Fourth-floor walkup.
Client name: RAUL M.
Threat category: Possible Familiar / Possible Vampire.
Payout: $310.
Tip: Not guaranteed.
Mara hated that line more than anything.
Imagine surviving a vampire and still deciding whether your hunter “earned” the extra fifteen percent.
They climbed the stairs.
Something smelled rotten.
Not corpse rotten.
Sweet rotten.
Flowers left in water too long.
Mara knocked.
No answer.
Ellis drew a short-barreled shotgun loaded with silver buckshot.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Same.”
They entered.
The apartment was dark except for the television.
An infomercial played silently.
A woman smiled while slicing tomatoes with knives sharp enough to butcher God.
The client was sitting at the kitchen table.
Raul M.
Forty-two years old.
Accountant.
Three kids according to the Hunter profile.
He stared at them.
His face was gray.
His eyes were wet.
“My wife,” he whispered.
Mara looked toward the bedroom.
“What happened?”
“She came home.”
“From where?”
Raul swallowed.
“The cemetery.”
Ellis sighed.
“Fantastic.”
Mara pulled up Kalshi.
YES: 71¢.
She slipped the phone away.
“Stay here.”
The bedroom door was open.
The woman stood beside the bed.
Barefoot.
Nightgown soaked dark at the hem.
She was beautiful in the dead way.
Too still.
Too white.
Like somebody had sculpted a woman out of candle wax and taught it hunger.
Mara raised the crossbow.
The vampire smiled.
“Do you know what they pay me?”
Mara paused.
Ellis whispered, “Don’t talk to it.”
The vampire’s eyes stayed on Mara.
“Blood courier. Thirty-two dollars an hour.”
Mara frowned.
The thing laughed.
“They pay more for O negative.”
Ellis said, “I officially hate capitalism more than vampires.”
The creature moved.
Fast.
One second beside the bed.
The next against the ceiling.
Mara fired.
Missed.
The bolt punched through drywall.
The vampire dropped onto Ellis.
He screamed.
Mara grabbed the thing by the hair and jammed a UV baton against its throat.
Skin blistered.
The apartment filled with smoke and screaming.
The vampire twisted.
Its mouth opened impossibly wide.
Ellis fired.
Silver tore through its ribs.
The creature hit the floor.
Still moving.
Still smiling.
Mara planted one boot on its chest.
“You work Uber Blood?”
The vampire laughed.
“Independent contractor.”
Mara drove the stake through its heart.
The body collapsed inward.
Not ash.
That part was bullshit.
They usually leaked.
A lot.
Ellis sat against the wall holding his shoulder.
“You always have to make a joke?”
“Yes.”
“I’m bleeding.”
“You’re always bleeding.”
“That’s because I work with you.”
Mara checked Hunter.
JOB COMPLETE?
She selected YES.
Upload photographic verification.
She took three pictures.
The app rejected the first two for poor lighting.
“Jesus Christ.”
She turned on the overhead light.
Ellis laughed until it hurt.
“Imagine killing Dracula and getting denied because the picture’s blurry.”
Mara uploaded again.
Accepted.
$310 payout pending review.
Then she opened Kalshi.
YES: 84¢.
Her contracts were worth nearly twice what she paid.
She smiled.
Ellis saw her face.
“Oh, come on.”
“Markets reacted.”
“To us?”
“To confirmed activity.”
“You’re insider trading vampires.”
“I’m not an insider.”
“You’re literally inside the vampire’s apartment.”
Mara considered this.
“Fair.”
The police arrived twenty minutes later.
So did a city coroner.
So did another Hunter crew hoping to claim the verification fee.
Everybody argued.
Raul cried in the kitchen.
Nobody comforted him.
There wasn’t an app for that.
Mara stood by the window.
Dawn was still two hours away.
The city below looked almost peaceful.
Cars.
Delivery bikes.
Ambulances.
People coming home.
People leaving for work.
People trying to scrape enough money together to survive another week.
The vampires had not changed anything fundamental.
They simply joined the ecosystem.
They bought apartments.
They opened shell companies.
They invested.
Some hired humans to transport blood.
Others financed influencer campaigns claiming sunlight intolerance was a misunderstood medical condition.
One vampire launched a crypto token.
Another owned three urgent-care clinics.
Predators adapt.
That was the problem.
Humans did too.
Mara’s phone buzzed.
Kalshi settlement notice.
VAMPIRE KILL CONFIRMED: YES.
Profit: $412.60.
Hunter payout: $310.
Pharmacy delivery: Canceled. Order reassigned.
Customer rating affected.
Mara stared at the screen.
Ellis leaned beside her.
“How’d we do?”
She showed him.
He nodded.
“Seven hundred bucks.”
“Before taxes.”
“Naturally.”
“Also the car needs brakes.”
“Naturally.”
A new Hunter job appeared.
MULTIPLE SIGHTINGS. MIDTOWN.
$520 SURGE.
Another notification appeared beneath it.
DoorDash.
Earn an extra $3 per delivery until 5:30 A.M.
Ellis looked at Mara.
Mara looked at Ellis.
Then she opened Kalshi.
WILL NYC CONFIRM TWO OR MORE VAMPIRE KILLS BEFORE SUNRISE?
YES: 42¢.
Mara smiled.
“Get the car.”
Ellis groaned.
“You have a gambling problem.”
“No.”
She bought YES.
“I have a work ethic.”
Outside, somewhere deep in Manhattan, something screamed.
The market moved three cents.
And Mara went to work.
About the Author
Harry L. Mora is a poet and horror writer raised in New York City's Hell's Kitchen. His published work includes "An Empty Place" and "How Did Love Go?" in Bewildering Stories, and "Ascension" in The World of Myth. His writing explores grief, fractured identity, and the darker corners of human connection. Under the name Morbid_Mora, he brings those themes to poetry, fiction, and music.