by Peter Dawes
What was once devoid of any blade of which to speak now boasted the beginnings of an arsenal. Several katanas, throwing knives, daggers, and short swords adorned the walls of my private quarters, with more housed inside the closet. Weapons with which I planned on experimenting had their place of honor on a side table. “A target fixed onto my back,” I said, revisiting Robin’s words.
I could handle it. I knew I could.
While I understood my brother’s concerns, I also had a healthy sense of egotism throbbing through my veins as I plucked one of the swords off the wall. Swinging it as the others had taught me, I heard the streams of praise which had been showered on me echo in my mind. I was born for this, they had said. I was a natural. Handling the blade only seemed to confirm it.
I set my weapon down atop my dresser as the hour called me toward slumber. Yawning, I stole a quick glance inside a half-opened drawer where something shimmered from within. I found myself plucking it out and lifting it before I could stop myself.
The necklace I had ripped from Lydia nestled in the palm of my hand. My fingers slid over its pendant while my eyes became distant and the mantra continued playing. I was born for this. I knew it as surely as I knew my name was Flynn; it had woven itself into the killer instinct I possessed as a vampire. The sainted doctor himself had slain with such precision, it would have made the surgeons I once worked with envious. What would it take to demonstrate to Robin that I could handle being an assassin?
Clutching the necklace, I thrust it into my pocket, not entirely certain why I did such a thing except to keep the trophy close to my person. Throwing my belabored body onto the bed, I neither bothered to strip, nor did I tuck myself under the covers before succumbing to fatigue. Instead, I allowed the tidal wave to crest and carry me off in its wake. I should have been lulled into the soundest of dreams.
That morning, however, I weathered the most terrible nightmare I had experienced since my fledgling days. Despite months of cold cruelty and intense focus, there yet remained one voice that refused to surrender her mission to redeem my soul.
The ghost of Lydia Davies returned to haunt me.
Chapter 8
I opened my eyes to find myself standing inside what felt like a crypt. Heavy wool coat atop my black suit, I was dressed as though I anticipated an outing but could not recall ever leaving the coven. Adjusting my sunglasses, I focused on my surroundings through a darkness influenced only partly by a lack of illumination. Something rang familiar about it, though. I made out the presence of a lamp by my side and after I switched it on, light heralded far more than déjà vu.
My mortal living area. Fate had transported me into my old apartment.
I perked an eyebrow. An immediate wave of memory swept past, threatening to drown me in the undertow as the place I had not called home in nearly a year stretched out before me. A thin layer of dust rested on everything. Familiar pictures hung on the walls and every piece of furniture had remained undisturbed.
That could not be right, though, I told myself. Fingerprints had littered the murder weapon that killed Lydia Davies and would have led investigators here. Anything not nailed down should have been confiscated by the police, yet books and vinyl albums still rested on tables. Old mail lay piled on a stand in the entryway. The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen. A light blinked on the answering machine and the red, pulsing beacon piqued my curiosity. I strolled toward it and pressed play, listening as the tape rewound and settled into place.
A beep; a crackle. A moment’s hesitation. Then, a voice.
“Hey, Pete!” a boisterous woman declared in opening. My mental Rolodex settled on the face of a heavy-set, middle-aged nurse named Chloe Poole. “Pat and the Indian Mafia say you haven’t been showing up for your shifts. Is everything alright? It’s not like you to leave the ER hanging minus one doctor. I said I’d give you a call. Let us know what’s going on.”
The corner of my mouth curled upward in a smile. “I’m sorry, Peter will not be coming to work any longer, due to an acute case of vampirism.” I rolled my eyes. Another beep punctuated the message, giving way to a short pause and another female voice.
This one, however, sent a shiver up my spine.
“Peter,” she said, but in that name alone, I heard so much more. Lydia. The tone of voice pleading, it plucked ancient heartstrings and made my stomach sink. “Please listen to me before you take another step. It’s not too late.”
I furrowed my brow, but remained silent; listening. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a shaky breath before talking again. “You have to stop,” Lydia said. “She’s deceiving you, but she has you too hypnotized for you to realize it.” A pause. “I’m sorry. I should have called you sooner, but I’ve been trying to get you help.”
Stepping closer to the answering machine on instinct, I folded my arms across my chest. A few seconds passed before Lydia spoke again. “Remember what I told you? Remember... Two years ago, when we were lying on your bed? You looked into my eyes and I told you what I saw inside of yours, Peter? She sees it, too. You’re a pawn in all of this... Oh God...” The shaky voice surrendered to a sob. I shut my eyes, choking on emotion as I heard her cry. That part of me was dead, I told myself. She killed it with her infidelity. I killed it with homicide.
“You’re going to regret this Peter.”
“No,” I said. I inhaled deep, steadying breaths and shook my head. “You will not have your way again this time, bitch.”
“I bet you don’t even recognize yourself.”
“I know what I am.” I gritted my teeth. “Damn you, woman, I have known who I am for some time now. How dare you attempt to meddle in my affairs?”
“You’ve lost what you are, Dr. Dawes. Wake up. It’s not too late.”
“No!” My face contorted with rage as my eyes flashed open. “Oh no, no, no... I know what you are up to and it is not going to work. Do you hear me? Not going to work!” In one, swift movement, I ripped the answering machine from the table and threw it across the room. The cheap plastic splintered into a thousand pieces when it hit the wall and the tape inside partially unwound as it tried to remain attached to the mechanism. My fangs slipped from their hiding place and I hissed at the remnants of the unwelcome harbinger.
Two hands wrapped themselves around the small table where the answering machine once rested. It, too, splintered into pieces when I threw it. Wood shards rained down on the carpet, letters scattered from being displaced, and I stormed forward, eyes blazing fury, intent on demolishing the living room.
I tipped over the couch and hurled pictures around. A framed photograph of my parents hit the window, breaking glass. Another of Lydia met with a similar fate, shattering another window. Had I my wits about me, I might have noticed the cacophonous ruckus my actions created, but I had no concern for such a thing. I continued uprooting everything in my path like a hurricane until I reached the bedroom.
I studied the tousled sheets. Memories wished to surface. The one Lydia cited mere seconds beforehand nagged at the threshold of consciousness, but I did not allow it entrance. Using rage to blind my thoughts in a veil of burning white, I destroyed my old bedroom in the same manner I had the living room. Dismantling the final vestiges of my former life; destroying Peter Dawes himself. I reached in my pocket for my lighter and flipped open the top.
In one deft movement, I ignited the flame and tossed the lighter onto my bed. Fire licked at the bedclothes until they caught, and a blaze spread outward across the sheets as if they had been doused by some form of accelerant. Turning my back on the room, I adjusted my coat and began a brisk, purposeful walk toward the door. What debris I did not step over, I trampled on, until I reached the entryway and hesitated with my hand on the doorknob.
Pivoting, I lined the pieces of the answering machine in my sights and heard Lydia’s voice echo once more in my thoughts.
“Peter…” she pled.
“Peter died, you bitch,” I muttered to the empty apartment, its fixtures uprooted by the
immortal force of nature I had become. “My name is Flynn now. Deal with it.”
Not now. Not while Robin still doubted my mental faculties. Not while I was trying to prove to both him and Sabrina I was ready for an assignment after months spent in training. As I opened my eyes, beholding the pitch black of my heavily-shaded room, I found my head still steeped in something too palpable to be a mere dream. My body might have returned to the coven, but fury still held my mind in its grip. I gritted my teeth and sat up in bed.
If she wished to play a game, she was trifling with the wrong vampire.
Swiftly, I stood. Destroying the apartment in my dreams would not be good enough; oh no, there would be blood spilled if I had anything to say about it. My motions incensed, I unbuttoned the shirt I had fallen asleep wearing and removed it as quickly as possible. As I marched into the bathroom, I tossed the clothing atop a chair and shut the door. Steam filled the area within minutes, the temperature of the water turned to scalding as if to match how intensely my anger boiled.
How did one shake such a persistent ghost?
“Murder,” I said. “The same way she met her end before.” My fangs ached at the mere prospect of it. Who cared whether the trail of bodies I left in my wake whipped the mortal authorities into a frenzy? I would relish the hunt with more sadism than this fallen creature had previously entertained. Perhaps Sabrina or Robin would tie the bout of carnage to me, but who cared? I merely wished the adulterous wench silenced for good.
Plucking a fresh suit from my closet, I dressed quickly, but hesitated before putting on my suit jacket. My eyes surveyed the instruments of destruction on my walls, each waiting for a victim to pierce and bleed. I played by Robin’s rules – used Robin’s finesse and followed his guidance with religious fervor – while my dark side clamored within the confines of a self-imposed prison. What would happen if I released the monster for once?
A sinister smile spread across my face. Poison shot from my black soul and surged through my bloodstream.
Opening a trunk filled with other accessories, I extracted a shoulder holster with slots designed to sheath daggers. After securing it around my arms, I reached for a set of matching throwing knives, plucking three from their display. One final adjustment and they nestled close to my body, whispering decadent thoughts.
I placed my sunglasses over my eyes and fastened my favorite sword by my side, strapping it around my waist. A full-length wool coat would conceal the obviousness of my weaponry, so I selected one from my closet. Black, leather gloves slid over my hands. By the time I departed from my room, I knew I embodied the word assassin and wanted the world to know that as well. Including the set of eyes peering down from the cosmos.
“Ready for a show, Precious?” I muttered under my breath while alighting from the main staircase and strolling across the tiled floor of the foyer. My wing-tipped shoes made little noise. I did not pause to engage anyone in either conversation or eye contact. Passing by the doorman with cool indifference, I held back my final proclamation to Lydia until the night air nipped at me with its brisk bite. “Look me in the cold, blue eyes and tell me you see Peter now.”
At once, I slipped into the darkness, just as I had been taught, the words of my mentor a sacred creed I was bent both on honoring and vandalizing. Being armed within the city makes you conspicuous, stick to the shadows. Do not make eye contact with anyone. Do not allow anybody to see you unless you want to be seen. I almost muttered the words underneath my breath while following the scent of humanity and homing in on its tempting pulse.
Move swiftly. You are vampire, Flynn.
I jumped for a fire escape and pulled myself up for a better vantage point. My shoes made a slight sound on the metal platform when I swung over the railing, but I bounded up the remainder of the stairs in relative silence, drowned out by the distant sound of sirens while I ascended to the roof of a five-story building. The wind kicked around the ends of my coat and blew through my hair. My mouth curled in a devious smile as I jumped onto a ledge and extended my arms, absorbing the wind and moonlight as though to steal its power.
‘Meet your new god,’ I thought as my palms rose heavenward. ‘Bow to him and tremble.’
A noise broke me from the moment, directing my attention toward a man and woman nearing a narrow passageway between this building and the one adjacent. My grin broadened and my feet moved swiftly to intercept, dashing to the edge of one rooftop before leaping across the expanse and running along the opposite ledge. Climbing onto the precipice, I jumped and landed on the ground below, allowing my knees to buckle as I absorbed the impact.
Slowly, I stood. I reached deftly into my coat and slid one of the knives out with taunting care. Cradling the hilt in my hand, I stalked toward the end of the passageway, fangs slipping out as two heartbeats came closer...closer...closer still.
They were engaged in conversation when I struck.
Neither was prepared for what transpired. I grabbed the girl, wrapping my arm around her neck, and pulled her into the shadows with me. Her significant other stopped walking immediately, reacting to the startled yelp she issued before I cupped my free hand over her mouth. As he dashed into the passageway, he halted when he encountered my raised blade aimed at his neck. The mortal man’s eyes widened.
I chuckled. “Pleasant evening for a stroll, is it not?”
He motioned to yell as I thrust the blade forward, impaling his windpipe before he could do more than squeak. Blood ran down his neck and the startled look in his eyes turned to confusion. The woman I held made up for his failed attempt at noise by yelling into my hand. “There, there, love,” I said, whispering in her ear, nearly salivating over her flesh. “You will get your turn, too.”
A final push severed the mortal’s spinal column. He fell like a lifeless mannequin as I extracted my knife and flicked it to the side, splattering blood over the wall of an adjacent building. The woman I held continued screaming and a sliver of moonlight caught the sheen of tears in her eyes, causing them to glisten. I chuckled. “Just you and me now. I like it so much better this way.”
A tear rolled down her cheek and over my leather glove while I raised the knife close to her neck. Whimpers became sobs and sobs shifted into wails the moment the cold blade touched her skin. I chuckled while she struggled, pressing the knife against her throat in a more forceful manner and starting the flow of blood. “Now, now. Hold still or I will slit your jugular and then, this all becomes senseless violence with no real purpose. And we would not want that, would we?”
She stopped, still weeping, but freezing into place just like I had requested. “Just relax,” I said, leaning close, my breath grazing her neck. “This will all be over in a minute.”
The girl jumped when fangs pierced flesh. As I imbibed lustful swallows of her blood, however, she settled against me, given over to shock and then, unconsciousness. I fed from her over several minutes and pulled away once her heartbeat began to fade. Her head bobbed to the side, two puncture wounds still weeping blood in rivulets. I licked away the remnant and raised my knife again.
Dragging the blade over the bite wounds to conceal them, I then dropped her body on the ground. She landed atop her significant other, a gesture I thought only fitting as I stepped over them, cleaning the blood off my knife while strolling away. I slid the blade back into its sheath, adjusted my coat, and emerged onto a side street, crossing with a nonchalant air as I sought out my next victim. Not to imbibe, though. Heavens no.
Now, this was about murder.
I pinned the next mortal I found to the side of a building with one of my knives. After torturing him with another blade, I slit his throat before he could flirt with unconsciousness and allowed him to bleed out onto the gritty, Philadelphia asphalt. Collecting my weapons, I cleaned these, too, and continued onward.
My next victims were another couple, found walking through Fairmount Park. Knives thrown from a distance plunged deep into their backs, hurtling them face-first onto the sidewalk, where
they came to a rest. Retrieving the knives, I licked them clean, becoming drunk with power the longer I indulged the tirade. My eyes rising toward the heavens, I wore the devil’s grin as I spoke. “Is this registering loud and clear yet?”
I returned to the more populated part of the city where I stabbed one man in the gut for looking at me in an ill manner. Another, I ran through with my katana when he came upon me and the corpse of my previous victim. After this, I found another woman, whom I lulled into the by-and-by with a prick of my teeth on a quiet, narrow street, my own thirst needing to be sated after witnessing so much blood spilled since my last meal. I tossed her lifeless body aside and discovered three people staring at me as I turned away.
Each of them pale, they parted lips to flash their identity through fangs. I smirked and slid my knife back into place. “Ah, breathren,” I said, adjusting my coat and sweeping my hand across my mouth to catch any stray droplets of blood. “How can I help you?”
They regarded me in silence, three male vampires I begun to take for mute when they refused to respond. I raised an eyebrow at them. “Nobody here speaks English?” I asked.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, neophyte?” one asked, breaking the silence. His long, brown hair was tied back in a ponytail reminiscent of Robin’s.
“I am sorry. What do I think I am doing?” Glancing at the downed mortal, I looked to my new friend then and shrugged. “Looks like I just murdered a woman. Why are you asking me such an asinine question?”
“We were stalking this woman first. Hasn’t anyone taught you any manners?”
“Many have tried. Few have succeeded.” I folded my arms across my chest. “All three of you were stalking her? And were you all going to share?”
