by Peter Dawes
I lit a cigarette and shoved my hands inside my pockets. As I did, however, my fingers touched the hard metal of Lydia’s necklace, fingers taking hold of it as if on instinct. Withdrawing the chain brought forth my lie, dangling before my eyes with moonlight reflecting from its pendant. A sinister smirk crawled across my face. Lydia’s voice resonated in my ears.
“Why don’t you just wear it to spite me?”
“Your wish is my command,” I said. With a nod, I fastened the chain around my neck and hid it underneath my shirt. A shiver settled in my bones, though, my stomach twisting as an unfamiliar wave of nervousness swept through me. I did not know from where it found its origin, only that it did not belong to the fear I had held regarding Sabrina.
I shrugged, apt to brush it off for the time being.
My gait resumed its deliberate tenor, bound east toward Temple University. Whistling through part of my walk, I tried to ignore the chill in the air, not admitting to myself it belonged to more than just the frigid temperatures of winter. For as much as Lydia had threatened me with the arrival of the answers I sought, little did I know just how soon they would find me.
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Chapter 13
Smoke wafted from my cigarette, drifting toward the ceiling. My eyes were fixed on the building across the street from me, studying what appeared to be the sole occupied row-house on the block. While my chosen shelter at least boasted an enclosed porch, the neighboring homes, including the one currently being renovated behind me, showcased boarded up doors and windows, their exteriors even more dilapidated than the address provided to me by Sabrina. It made perfect sense to me that my quarry was not home. If it had been up to me, I would have been anywhere but there as well.
A quick glance out the window revealed the time to be about ten, which meant I had been standing there for almost two hours. I growled, shifting my attention back to the house, and mused on my target once again. Snooping around the coven had never earned an assassination order for any other mortal – those caught were quickly dispatched as dinner and never spoken of again. This girl, however, had managed to raise Sabrina’s ire, and details about her were woefully sparse.
The whole thing threatened to unnerve me.
Raising the cigarette to my mouth, I drew in deep and fought to ignore the aching in my body for warm blood. I had not hunted prior to arriving, so bent and determined to get this over with. Now, I suffered the consequences. “Where is this bitch?” I muttered. “Figures she would take her precious time getting here.”
I exhaled a stream of smoke. Flicking the remainder of my cigarette on the floor, I ground it out with my shoe and succumbed to the urge to incline against the nearest wall. My agitation had me distracted, however – such that I misjudged the distance between my body and the newly colored surface. A paint-splattered sheet slid beneath my feet. As it displaced, it caused a ladder and an array of cans and painting implements to crash to the ground and make all manner of racket. Righting myself, I clenched my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. A deafening silence followed the entire debacle.
Frozen in position for several interminable seconds, it took what seemed like an eon before I worked up the nerve to open my eyes again. As I did, though, I discovered no crowd gathered outside to witness my mishap. Only a tall vampire with all the grace of an elephant, standing straight and dusting off his coat. “Losing your fucking edge, Flynn,” I said, but any further words were cut off by the sound of shoes scuffing on the pavement. Immediately, my attention shifted back to the sidewalk leading up to the house.
I looked up in time to see her approach.
A cautious stroll punctuated the steps of a short, wispy girl who appeared no older than her early twenties. Her hair just as Sabrina described it, its long, brown locks flowed down her back and a distinct patch of blonde framed one side of her face. She wore a gray coat atop a tight, black shirt, with a long, matching skirt and the crimson-colored scarf tied around her neck, concealing any patch of skin that might have otherwise been uncovered. I regarded the black gloves on her hands and studied her figure, deciding that if not for how thin she was, she might have almost been attractive. As it was, she was barely fit to be an appetizer.
She paused on the sidewalk directly across the street to turn her head and look around, prompting my hand to fall to the hilt of my sword in reflexive anticipation. Her eyes failed to settle on my hiding place, however, and passed over the quiet street without hesitation until she faced away from me, regarding her front door. I slithered into the shadows of the porch’s open doorway while she ascended the stairs to her stoop.
Her heartbeat thudded in her chest. I listened to its cadence while she produced a set of keys from her purse, becoming entranced by its siren song. My fangs emerged before I could stop them, thoughts of making a snack out of the girl polluting my thoughts with temptation. A little something to get me by, until I could return home and hunt with Robin.
I shook my head, not certain from where such a notion came. ‘No, no,’ I admonished myself, ‘Now is not the time to lose focus, Flynn.’
She slid her key into the lock.
I drew my sword, taking the hilt in both hands while she twisted her wrist. The lock clicked. Readying my weapon, closing in on her brought with it a gust of breeze carrying her scent in my direction. Her sweetness wrapped itself around me. Thoughts of my teeth puncturing her skin infected me with such a dire need that the compulsion to feed became a pounding ache. She removed her key and I lunged for her, thrusting my blade forward. Only, rather than impaling her, I pinned her to the door by the fabric of her scarf.
The mousy girl yelped. Leaning close to her, I cupped her mouth with my hand, hissing in her ear through protruded teeth desperate to claim purchase on her neck. “Hello, little woman,” I whispered, drawing another deep breath inward, the intoxicating aroma of my new-found prey sending bolts of temptation rocketing through my senses. “Has nobody ever told you to watch out for strangers?”
I ripped my sword out of the door and slid it back into its sheath, my subconscious set on a trajectory toward defiance of my orders. Taking hold of the girl by her shoulder, I spun her to face me and slammed her back against the house’s exterior again. Her pulse quickened, and a smirk crossed my lips when her gaze met mine. “Are you afraid, Pet?” I asked, tightening my hold on her with one hand while the other lifted to tease at her scarf. “I certainly hope so. I want to hear you scream for me.”
Undoing the knot of her scarf in haste, I slid it out from around her neck. As it descended to the ground, I focused on the gash that had been inflicted by my sword, watching the decadent sight of blood rising to the surface. I became entranced by that alone, not caring that she neither cried out, nor fought against me as I closed in on her. Instead, my eyes shut, leaving me blinded to her final act of defiance.
She smacked the side of my face. The impact sent my glasses flying; I heard them hit the ground and opened my eyes on reflex, subjecting myself to a maddening amount of pain in the process. “Fucking hell,” I said, lifting both hands to cover my eyes in the hopes it might dull the pain. It allowed my target to wriggle free for a moment, however, and brought me back into my senses.
Despite the burning it caused, I forced my lids open to look at her. Both hands grabbed hold of her before she could descend the stairs from the porch, and turned her to face the house again. This time, she hit the wall with much more force, a groan slipping past her lips before her gaze engaged mine. Our eyes met for only a moment before my fangs plunged into her neck. Warm blood spilled down my throat and as it did, I felt my body shake from satisfaction.
The feeling of pleasure transformed violently, however – taken over by the rising sensation of sharp pinpricks of heat flooding my body. I ripped away from her at once, stumbling backward and eyeing her with confusion while a smug grin curled the corners of her mouth.
“Was hoping I could get you out of sight before that happened, but I guess I’ll have to make do,” she said, thoug
h the sight of her face had started to blur in and out of focus. A sudden wave of dizziness drove me to my knees, and before I could catch myself, I toppled the rest of the way onto my side. Her blood trickled down the sides of my mouth, burning whatever skin it encountered as it wrought the same havoc on my insides. Through the haze of sheer agony, I watched as she bent to pick up her scarf, straightening to a stand before pressing it against the wound on her neck.
My mouth attempted speech, but failed to emit more than a shrill whisper. I lost sight of her for a few seconds, jarred back into recognition of her when she crouched in front of me and frowned. “Hello, Peter,” she said, her voice possessing a strange dissonance to it. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a while. We’ll talk later – for now, you should probably rest.” I watched her hand lift and winced when her fingertips pressed against my forehead. Her touch had an immediate effect on me.
The blackness which had already crept into my periphery surged to blind me altogether. I lost even the ability to whimper, supine and at the girl’s mercy. As an overpowering wave of fatigue crested over me, I struggled against it until it pulled me under. With my final thoughts, I cursed myself.
Then, I fell into a deep sleep.
“Hey, sleepyhead. It’s time to wake up.”
Her voice startled me awake, the mere evocation more effective than throwing me into a pool of cold water. My eyes shot open, a slight tinge of pain brought about by the presence of flickering candlelight which faded almost instantly. I found myself staring at the ceiling, laid out on my back and watching the shadows of fire light flicker across a solid white canvas. I raised a hand to scrub at my face, but jumped when something caught my wrist and yanked my arm back down.
I tugged at the restraint. Hearing a rattle, I turned my head to look at it and groaned when I saw a shackle wrapped around the sleeve of my shirt. I rolled my head to the other side to confirm its mate and moved my legs to discover that my ankles were likewise bound. “Where the hell are you, little girl?” I asked. “And how quickly do you want to die when I am freed?”
“Right here. A safe enough distance from you for now, just in case you get any ideas,” she said. “Though I can see you’re just as pleasant when you wake up as I was afraid you might be.”
Kicking my feet, I struggled against the shackles. “You had best release me before –” I began, by my words were cut short when the metal shifted and touched the skin of my leg past my sock. Rather than bringing with it the cool sensation of steel, it seared my flesh, provoking a scream past my lips. I heard footsteps scurry and took a deep breath when the pain abated, two hands shifting the restraint back down above the protection of fabric.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked, half-gasping the question.
“Silver. Peter, you should probably –”
“Do not call me –”
“– Not do that again. And I’m sorry? I beg your par –”
“Leave that name where you found it, bitch. Peter does not live here any longer.”
At first, silence punctuated my words, but then, the girl began to laugh, the mocking tone not something I was accustomed to hearing. Looking to my left, I saw her standing beside the bed, dressed just as I remembered. A swatch of gauze covered the area where I had bitten her. I would have hardly guessed her injured, however, judging from the unwavering confidence in her stare. “Oh, come on, Flynn,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “What do you think you’re going to be able to do to me from there? Bite me again?”
Scowling, I tugged at my restraints again. “We will find out soon enough.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Unless you want a repeat performance of what just happened to your leg. Remember? The shackles are made from silver?” She paced backward, putting more space between us again. When I perked an eyebrow, she sighed. “Wow, your mentors really dropped a ball there. Silver burns when it touches your skin, oh high and mighty vampire. I was merciful and at least made sure I secured the shackles around your clothing, but if you keep wriggling like that, it’s not going to matter.”
“The pain would last just for a minute before I tore free and ripped out a piece of your throat.”
“Doubtful you would tear free. It also drains your strength. Why would you want to do that, anyway? To be in the same position you were outside?” Reclining against the wall, she smirked as she regarded me again. “Thanks for the noisy introduction, by the way. You can thank yourself for giving me a chance to cast a protection spell.”
“Protection spell?” I asked, punctuating the question with a laugh. “What sort of human nonsense is that?”
“The magical kind. Are you sure you went to college, because your basic communication skills seem to be lacking.” Lifting a hand, she fanned out her fingers and whispered something under her breath, the effect nearly instantaneous. A bright glow engulfed her fingers, coalescing into a small sphere of energy that dissipated when she shut her hand. I blinked and she smiled. “See? Sorceress. But you can call me Monica.”
“I will remember that for your funeral.”
“Look at you, all full of spite and defiance. I’m going to hazard a guess that silver’s not the only thing Mommy Vampire didn’t tell her special boy about. She’s been short on a lot of information as far as you’re concerned, hasn’t she?”
“That is none of your concern.” Hissing, I snapped at her, fangs exposed. She did not budge, except to frown with more than a small amount of genuineness behind the expression. “Whatever game you think you are playing,” I continued, “I am not going to be convinced by a few parlor tricks.”
Monica tsked and shook her head. Her hand still hovering at chest-level, she shifted it until her palm faced heavenward and flicked her fingers at me. An invisible force threw me back against the bed again, eyes fixed on the ceiling once more, only this time, I was incapable of budging even an inch.
“How’s that for a parlor trick, Flynny?” she asked.
I did not deign to answer her. Feeling for whatever force had pinned me down, I struggled to surmount it, but found myself unable. Her steps circled around me again, shifting her from one side of the room to the other, her shadow creeping across me until it enveloped me altogether. I tried to peer at her through the corner of my eye, but could only see the outline of her figure. “You think you know it all, Mr. Bad-Ass Assassin,” she said, “but you’ve only been a vampire for what? Five years now? That’s not enough time for you have any clue what you’re talking about, let alone how real or not real someone like me is. I mean seriously, Flynn, you’re a vampire. You ever stop to think there might be other things in the world?”
“You ask me that question as if I give a damn,” I said.
Monica laughed. “This is hilarious. You’re still spitting nails and you’re not listening to a word I’m saying. You hate losing control of a situation, don’t you? Ironic, considering how often you let Sabrina take it away from you.”
Whatever her intent in evoking Sabrina’s name, hearing her say it had a peculiar effect on me. Visions of my Mistress perched on my lap, speaking her final instructions to me, sent my mind spiraling, reminding me I had a mission to accomplish. I moaned, scolding myself for leaving myself at the mercy of my target. Slipping, yes. Perhaps Timothy was right, I thought. I was slip–
The sound of fingers snapping jarred me, my eyes shooting open without me realizing I had closed them. Something pulled the thought of Sabrina from my mind as if eradicating it by force. “Damn, Peter,” Monica said, bringing my attention back to her. “You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”
Blinking, I made another effort to lift upward from the bed, and while I still could not, I had at least been granted the ability to turn my head to the side. Monica placed her hands on her hips while studying me and while she failed to meet my gaze, I saw the grim way she regarded me. A frown touched the corners of my mouth. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
“I didn’t recognize you at first, you
know,” Monica said, her voice subdued and dreamy, speaking from within wherever her thoughts had roamed. “I’ve seen pictures of you, but they were from before you were turned and you’ve changed a lot since then. I mean, the pallor and all – no offense, but you vampires never do look on the healthy side of normal – but your mind?” She whistled. “That right there is a warzone. You have no idea how screwed up you are.”
When I furrowed my brow, Monica’s eyes regained focus, meeting my gaze more directly. She sighed. “You’re unique,” she said, “and yet, you don’t know the half of it. Do you, Flynn?”
We stared at each other, until my lips twisted and a sound like maniacal laughter bubbled up from my throat. One laugh begot an entire stream of mirth and within seconds, I sounded like a madman who had finally been driven over the edge. Monica’s expression fell as I continued chortling like a raging lunatic. “Oh, this is precious,” I said. “Have we reached the part of our discussion where you mention my ‘gifts’ in just as cryptic of a manner as everyone else. Fates help me, my reckoning is at hand.”
Monica raised an eyebrow. “I’d think by now you’d want a few answers.”
“Fuck your answers,” I snapped, my shift in demeanor violent, even to me. Still, I could not help the onset of blind rage, and entertained it without any thought given toward holding back. “And to hell with your attempt to psychoanalyze me. I do not know what you expected to find here, pursuing me like this, but nothing remains of the human I had been before. All you see before you is death.”
She smirked. “Death? Sure. I could stake you right now if I wanted to.”
“So, why hold back?”
