“The eye sees only what the mind is
prepared to comprehend.”
- Henri Bergson

***

Chapter Twelve

Smoke wafted from my cigarette, drifting toward the night sky before dissipating in the breeze. My eyes fixed on the house in front of me, I lingered in the trees, studying what appeared to be a one-story shack while pitying whatever creature had to inhabit it for longer than ten minutes. It made perfect sense to me, at the time, that she was not home. I wished to be anywhere but there myself.

A quick glance heavenward revealed the time to be about ten, which meant I had been standing there for almost two hours. I growled, shifting my eyes back to the house. Snooping around the coven never signed 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 I knew neither her strengths, nor her weaknesses. Only that she was a ’sorceress’.

Which I less-than-willing to believe.

Raising my cigarette to my mouth, I drew in deep and fought to ignore the aching in my body for warm blood. I did not hunt before arriving, so bent and determined to get this over with that I strolled past a few tempting prospects. 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 into the bushes, I succumbed to the urge to incline against one of the trees, but did not assure my footing was steady first and misjudged the distance between my body and the tree. Twigs and brush slid underneath my feet. I crunched, snapped, and made all manner of racket while reaching for the trunk of my would-be resting spot. Righting myself, I clenched my eyes shut and sighed. 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 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 was focused back on the sidewalk leading up to the house.

I looked up in time to see her approach.

A cautious stroll punctuated her steps, a short, emaciated 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 tight, black shirt and long, black skirt, and the crimson-colored scarf tied around her neck concealed any patch of skin which might have otherwise been uncovered. I regarded the black gloves on her hands and studied her figure despite myself. 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 turned her head and looked around. Her eyes failed to settle on my hiding place. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword as she directed her attention to the front door, and slowly, I slithered around a tree and emerged onto the path behind her. My mark ascended the stairs to her porch. She slipped a hand into a purse she wore around one shoulder and produced a set of keys as she withdrew it.

Her heartbeat thudded in her chest. I listened to its cadence, becoming entranced by its siren song and drew in deep to catch her scent drifting in the breeze. My fangs emerged before I could stop them. My mind became polluted with the temptation to disregard my normal modus operandi and make this girl my snack. 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, ‘One strike, one kill… like the samurai of old. Now is not the time to lose sight of my sacred credos.‘

She slid her key into the lock.

I drew my sword, taking the hilt in both hands while she twisted her key. The lock clicked. Readying my weapon, I shivered as closing in on her brought with it another 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 shirt.

The mousy girl yelped with pain, a gash cut across her waist producing the decadent sight of blood. Leaning close to her, I cupped her mouth with my hand, hissing in her ear through teeth protruded and desperate to seek purchase on her neck. “Hello, little woman,” I whispered, drawing another deep breath inward, the intoxicating aroma of my newfound 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, taking hold of the girl by her shoulder and throwing her around to face me. Her eyes widened with surprise. I pushed her against the door frame and made certain she took a lingering look at the teeth which would soon be the instruments of her demise. Her pulse quickened in response. “Mmm… afraid, precious? Just the way I like it.” I raised my sword to eye level for her, showing her blood staining the tip. “Come now, pet. Scream for me.”

With one quick swipe, I cut her scarf from her neck. As it descended to the ground, I focused on the gash my swipe inflicted against her neck and listened as the wiry girl screamed. A sweet symphony to my ears, it flooded my mind while I closed in on her neck, eyes shutting, aware of nothing more than blood and terror. My teeth touched her skin. As they did, though, she flinched in response and in a final act of defiance, she reached up and smacked the side of my face.

The impact sent my glasses flying. They hit the ground with a clack. I opened my eyes on reflex, subjecting myself to maddening, acute pain in the process, and yelled as the familiar burning radiated from my retinas. “Fucking hell!” I said, dropping my sword and covering my face.

My target wriggled free, but I grabbed hold of her before she could get away and slammed her back against her door. I opened my eyes long enough for her to regard their crystal blue color, but shut them before I could see the smug grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. My fangs plunged into her neck and warm blood spilled down my throat. I groaned in response, drinking deep until a disquieting sensation enveloped my entire body with sharp pinpricks of heat.

I ripped away from her, stumbling backward.

My eyes opened, searing pain overridden by a sudden wave of dizziness. The vision of the girl became distorted. Before I could compensate, I tripped and spilled onto the porch, brought hard onto my backside and moaning while coming to my knees. I felt her blood trickling down the sides of my mouth, burning the skin while my throat screamed fiery pain at me to rival my visual infirmity. Through the haze, I watched the figure of my target stroll closer, crouching to pick up her scarf and press it against the wound on her neck. Her voice possessed a strange dissonance to it when she spoke.

“Hello, Peter,” she said. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a while now. Didn’t think this was how we’d finally say how-do-you-do, but hey, I’ll take it.”

I blinked, mouth and throat attempting to issue a response. Whatever her blood had done to me, it rendered me incapable of speech, bringing with it a creeping blackness which tried to overtake me. Finding myself unable to fight against it, I slumped fully onto the porch, supine and at her mercy.

My last memory was of her crouching next me and touching my forehead.

After that, I remembered nothing more.

***

“Good thing you didn’t drink any more than that, Peter. It might’ve killed you.”

The voice startled me into consciousness, forcing my eyes open as though throwing me into a pool full of ice water. I found myself on my back, lying on a bed with a slight tinge of pain radiating in my eyes from the glow of candles in the room. No other light to speak of, it provided sufficient illumination to cast shadows on the wall, yet shrouded enough in darkness for me to realize my vampire eyes were not adjusting to my environment. I raised my hand to rub them, but jumped, startled 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 caught sight of 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 reveal my ankles were likewise bound. “You best release me, little girl,” I said as the hazy memory of crumpling before the sorceress came to mind. I kicked at the shackles on my feet. “Unless you wish to see one very pissed off vampire when I get… .”

My words were cut off as metal shifted up my ankle, touching the skin of my leg past my sock. Rather than producing the chill of steel, it burned, searing my flesh and provoking another holler of offense past my lips. Two hands slid the metal down my ankle again, away from skin. I paused for a moment to blink past the sudden onslaught, then growled. My fangs descended. “What the bloody fucking hell was… .”

“Peter… .”

“Shut up.”

A pause. “I beg your… .”

“Leave that name where you found it, bitch! Peter does not live here any longer!”

At first, silence punctuated my words. Then, the wiry witch began to laugh. I winced at the mocking tone, not something I was used to hearing come from a small, mortal woman, and looked to my left, seeing her standing beside the bed, dressed just as I remembered. A swatch of gauze covered the area where I bit her. I would have hardly guessed her injured, however, judging from the way she folded her arms across her chest and stared at me with unwavering confidence. “Oh come on, Flynn,” she said. “What do you really think you’re going to be able to do to me from there? Bite me again?”

I scowled and tugged at my shackles. “We shall find out soon enough.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Unless you want a repeat performance of what just happened to your leg.” She started pacing away from me. “The shackles are made from silver. It burns when it comes in contact with your skin, oh high and mighty vampire. I was merciful and at least made sure I wrapped ‘em around your clothing, but if you keep wriggling like that, it’s not going to matter. Kind of makes getting free a moot point.”

I growled. “The pain would last just for a minute before I tore free and ripped out a piece of your throat.”

“And be in the same position you were outside? Which, by the way… Thank you for making all that noise in the trees.” She turned to face me again, smiling in a smug manner. “It gave me enough time to cast a protection spell.”

“Stupid mortal nonsense,” I spat. “Silver. Protection spells. Bah.”

“Oh, I can assure you there’s nothing stupid about it. You’re staying right there until I say so.” My unlikely nemesis strode back to the bed. The mattress dipped with her weight. I lifted my head to regard her as much as possible from my position as her eyes met mine. “Mommy vampire didn’t tell her special boy much about me did she? I bet she’s short on information a lot these days.”

Hissing, I snapped at her, fangs exposed. She did not budge, except to lift her hand and narrow her eyes at me. I furrowed my brow at the glint which surfaced in her gaze, but had precious little time to do anything else. An invisible force threw me back against the bed, rendering me incapable of budging an inch.

My eyes had closed with the impact, but I opened them again and found myself staring at the ceiling. The shadow of my captor crept against the plaster, the play of the candlelight making her loom more imposing than the wiry imp truly was. She chuckled. “You think you know it all, Mr. Bad Ass Assassin, but you’ve only been a vampire for what? Five years now? That’s not enough time for you to have a clue what you’re talking about.”

I sneered. “And I suppose you are the scholar, Miss… .”

“Miss nothing. C’mon, Flynny, we’re buddies now. Call me Monica.”

“I shall remember that for your funeral.”

Monica laughed. “You’re scared!” she said. “This is hilarious. You hate losing control of the situation, don’t you? Ironic how often you let Sabrina take it away from you.”

The mere mention of Sabrina’s name sent my mind spiraling. Visions of my mistress perched upon my lap, speaking her final instructions to me, spun me around, reminding me I had a mission to accomplish. I moaned, scolding myself for screwing up and rendering myself at the mercy of my target. Slipping, yes… Perhaps Timothy was right. I was slip…

Monica snapped her fingers.

I opened my eyes without knowing I closed them. Something ripped the thought of Sabrina from my mind as though eradicating it by force. Monica spoke once more, her voice sounding subdued this time. “Damn, Peter,” she said. “You’re fucking messed up, aren’t you?”

Blinking, I attempted to lift my head and discovered myself able to once again. I looked to my right, seeing Monica standing there, hands on her hips. I frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked as our gaze converged. The way her eyes traced over me left me feeling as though a colony of ants were crawling around inside my brain. I shut my eyes to stop her. “Damn it, I asked you a question.”

“I didn’t recognize you at first,” she said, her voice distant. “When you attacked me, I mean. I’ve seen pictures of you, but they were from before you were turned. You have no idea just how dark you look now. And your mind… My God…” Monica issued one sharp, incredulous laugh. “Your mind is more screwed up than you can begin to imagine.”

I opened my eyes again, brow knitted at the mortal sorceress. Monica’s eyes regarded me in a normal manner once more. “You’re a unique fellow,” she said, “And yet, you don’t know the half of it. Do you, Flynn?”

I laughed. Not certain why I issued even one chuckle in response, I allowed a stream of laughter to emanate from my lips anyway, sounding like an madman being driven over the edge. Monica blinked at me, her facial expression falling as I continued to chortle like a raging lunatic. “Oh, this is precious,” I said. “Ah… We have reached the part where you talk about the gift, right? Oh, here comes the grand reckoning. The Fates help me, I am at the mercy of a witch.”

Monica raised an eyebrow at me. “I’d think by now you’d be begging for the answers.”

“Fuck your answers!” I said, snapping at her without warning. The mirth dissipated at once, given over to blind rage. “And fuck your psychological trash speak; your damn incantations and hoaxes. Hear me now, little bitch, I do not know what you expected to find, but all you have before you is death. If you knew what you were trifling with, you would be pleading for your life.”

The corners of her mouth hinted at a smile. “I could stake you right now if I wanted to.”

“So, why do you hold back?”

“I don’t know, Flynny. I kind of like you.” She sat beside me on the bed again, closer to my chest. “I’d only heard about this vampiric egotistical bullshit before. Now, I get a front row seat to it.” Monica winked. “Besides, if I stake you, I’ll have to get your ashes out of my sheets and I hate doing laundry.”

“Then humor me with your ‘answers’ or let me go.” I glared. “Either way, I wish to know why you are holding me captive if not to kill me. I am hungry and grow weary of your presence.”

“Yeah, the last snack didn’t agree with you, huh?” Monica adjusted her black gloves and cracked her knuckles. The action struck me as odd; I watched her do so with a feeling of dread beginning to surface in the pit of my stomach. She smiled in response. “Beware of sirens, Flynn. I’ve been attacked more times than these pretty mortal women you seduce and I know how to arm myself.”

Monica shifted closer to me. “You see, I am the scholar here,” she said, “And you’ve been trapped in the dark for five years, convinced you’re nothing more than this sadistic prick you troll around town being. You have your walls up to everybody but Sabrina and she only fuels it, while holding back who you really are. This is where I come in.”

I perked an eyebrow at her when her grin broadened. “We could make a good team, Flynn,” she said. “But first, we need to teach you how to see.”

Lydia’s words echoed in my thoughts. Sight, but no vision. A queer notion originating some place outside myself spoke of seeing and knowing; being able to discern with more than my senses. Monica nodded as though able to read my mind and placed a hand on my forehead. “Do you want to know why Sabrina never tells you what this special sight is? It’s because she wants to make sure you’re completely wrapped around her finger before your abilities surface.”

“Abilities?” I asked the question on impulse, captivated despite myself. Part of me still wanted to bleed the mortal woman dry, but another part studied her, listening to what she had to say.

Monica nodded. “Quite frankly, I don’t think she even knows what it’s going to look like when you get them. The important thing to remember is you were chosen for a reason. There’s a game of chess being played out around you and you’re the piece everybody’s after. It has nothing to do with this egotistical demeanor you’ve created — that’s all Sabrina’s doing. She made you love to be a killer… .”

She positioned both hands on either side of my head. I winced, dread escalating by leaps and bounds when I caught sight of the look in her eyes. Monica smiled. “Now, Flynn… we’re going to teach you how to do it right.”

A flash of light threw my head back, the colony of ants evolving into a swarm of bees within the confines of my subconscious. I cried out on impulse as the witch’s hands pressed harder against my skull and the sensation of synapses being redirected – files being reorganized – overwhelmed me into submission. The demon within me bucked and screamed. I settled, helpless, against the bed, until an inexplicable calm came over me and lured me into slumber. Resistance, by then, was more than futile.

I was merely a passenger in this vehicle, nothing more.

Monica lifted her hands. The sound of her cracking her knuckles again became the final sound my ears took in, along with the distant resonance of the words she spoke. “Rest for a bit, Flynn. You’re going to need it. Life as you know it has just gotten flipped upside down.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning

Robin ingrained in me the rules of being an assassin far before I set out to kill my first target. I could recite the three credos in my sleep. ‘Be quick. Be accurate. Do not let one set of eyes spot you.’ I held them as dear as a religion and paid sacrifice at the altar of my god each time I drew a blade. As much as I enjoyed my position, though, and relished the sadism it ensconced me in, being a vampire hitman leant itself to a peculiar conundrum.

After the first vampire I vanquished fell to the ground in a pile of ash, the elation which followed found itself unseated by a disturbing notion. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that once my mission was complete, I had no way of proving I was the one who sent the dearly departed packing from this mortal coil. Vampires are oft to wanderlust and can meet their end in a variety of manners. By this time, Sabrina’s enemies knew that for one of their own to vanish was suspicious business, but I wished to make certain all knew who the responsible party was.

Anthony, of Matthew’s coven, would be no different.

It seemed to take an eternity for the sun to set. I whittled away the hours by reading or swinging around a sword I acquired after visiting a shop on the northern edge of Center City. A handsome piece of craftsmanship if ever I saw one, the katana boasted of fine quality steel and a hilt with black and red adorning the otherwise simple weapon. I made certain to inform its maker of my approval. Then I left him bleeding on the floor of his establishment.

The sword hung at my side as I left my room and strolled into the corridor, headed for my brother Robin’s private quarters. Not his original room either, it represented my brother’s strange behavior as of late. I could only guess why he never allowed me far from his sight. The trade-off was more than acceptable, though. Robin often provided me an ear of counsel despite his frequent misgivings with my personal code of conduct.

I approached his door and listened for activity inside his room.

Silence greeted me. I rapped my knuckles on the sturdy piece of mahogany, but still no sign of life made its presence known. Sighing, I adjusted the black, leather gloves on my hands and pounded on his door much harder. This time a groan drifted outward and inspired a grin to curl the corner of my mouth. “Rise and shine, dear brother,” I said. “Sunset waits for no man or vampire.”

“Flynn,” the groggy voice of Robin answered. “Please do not tell me you are waking me prior to sunset.”

“Sunset passed a half hour ago, Robin.” I added, in a much lower tone of voice, “Perhaps if you were not merely taking up space in this coven, you might be more aware of the time.”

I heard his feet hit the hardwood floor and pad closer until the door swung open. The coven’s second stared at me, half-asleep and disheveled. His shoulder-length hair fell alongside his face, not tied back as normal in a ponytail, and nothing but a pair of loose pajama pants kept Robin from standing bare before me. “What the devil brings you here so early?” he asked. “You’re lying about sunset. I just checked my watch and it has not been a half hour.”

My smirk grew more devilish. “A half hour, fifteen minutes, what does it matter? It’s evening, brother, and once again you’re wallowing in sloth.”

Robin opened his door wider to permit me passage through before shutting it and surrounding us with darkness. I raised my hand to remove my sunglasses, but no sooner did I touch the hard plastic than my brother switched on a lamp and thwarted my plans. “Yes, well, just because I am not bounding out of bed does not mean I am lazy,” he said, walking toward his closet, his voice still hoarse from sleep. “Not all the world rises two strokes past dusk.”

I followed. “They should. Night perishes too quickly for us immortals.”

“I hardly think that is the reason why you rose early tonight. I think it has more to do with what day it is.”

“What would that have to do with it?”

Robin scoffed. “Oh come now, Flynn, I know how the mistress likes to thank you for being her angel of death. All of the coven has their designated moment when she spreads her legs for them and birthdays are yours.”

“Well, somebody is in a mood.” I perked an eyebrow as Robin picked a shirt and pair of pants out of his closet. “Do you have need of getting laid, dear brother?”

“Are you offering?” Robin shot me a look of annoyance before sighing and bringing his clothing to his bathroom. I lost sight of him, but heard the change in his demeanor when he spoke again. “I am sorry, brother. Last night simply wasn’t a pleasant night for me.”

I walked toward a wall and leaned against it. “What happened?”

“Nothing worth discussing. Give me a moment to freshen up. I’ll be out as quickly as possible.”

“Very well.” No sooner did I respond than the bathroom door shut, severing our conversation. I sighed, glancing toward the heavy shades blocking his windows, already feeling the siren song of the night beckon me out for a kill. The blood thirst was not all that made its presence known in my consciousness, however. Embers of dread caught fire once more, playing an unfamiliar tune within my normally cool and focused demeanor.

I indulged in a deep, steadying breath just as the bathroom door opened. Robin strolled out, his hair tied back and a dress shirt and pants on his slender frame. Order reigned over his regal appearance at last. “So, dear brother,” he said, walking back into his closet. “What was it you came to discuss?”

“I wished to ask you a question,” I said, drifting closer to my brother.

“A question.” The words were spoken not as an inquiry, but a statement. I watched Robin pick a tie from the rack and slide it around his throat, not bothering to tie it before moving onward to fetch a pair of shoes and socks. I began to think him ignoring me until he added, “Well, Flynn, speak your question. I can hardly read your mind.”

“Very well, then.” I took one step back, allowing Robin to exit his closet. “I wished for you to do me a favor.”

“How did I know?” Robin huffed a chuckle as he walked toward his sitting area. “I do not suppose this has anything to do with a black rose, does it?”

My grin turned cunning, the killer responding to his calling card. “As a matter of fact, it does. I must report to Sabrina, but while I do, would you see to delivering a present?”

My brother sank into a chair, placing his shoes on the floor. “Do I have much of a choice when it comes to you and your little errands?” He sighed, and began slipping on his socks. “Where am I headed tonight, Flynn?”

“I do not suppose you will be strolling by Matthew’s coven again any time soon?”

“Why? Who is the dearly departed?”

“His little scavenger Anthony is no more.”

“Matthew will be thrilled about this.” Robin frowned, moving on to his shoes. “No, I do not merely stroll past his coven. I already have the death of one of his elders on my head for the last time I came close.”

“Yes, no doubt.” My eyes returned to Robin. “The mistress is still quite suspicious of why you were speaking with Demetrius in the first place.”

The words created an immediate reaction. A smile laden with bitterness touched the corners of his mouth, his eyes remaining set on the task at hand. “Yes, I imagine she is.” Robin finished lacing his shoes. When his gaze met mine again, I had to frown at the way he regarded me. “Well, I ceased trying to please the mistress a very long time ago, Flynn. She can question me all she wants and find herself a new second if she so desires. I refuse to justify my actions to her.”

I continued watching the cavalcade of sentiments run past Robin’s eyes until he looked away. Standing, Robin started to thread his tie. Silence fell between us. When Robin realized I was yet staring at him, he looked at me again. The frown which surfaced struck me as peculiar. “Be careful, brother,” he said.

I smirked despite myself. “When am I not?”

“Oh, you are plenty careful on the streets,” he said. “Just not back home where it matters the most.” Robin stood, plucking a suit jacket from an adjacent chair. He thread his arms into each sleeve. “Whatever the matter, Flynn… I see you have a new sword?”

He glanced at the katana by my side. I grinned. “Do you like it?”

“It suits you.” Robin adjusted his jacket and nodded. “You shall have to allow me a better look when time permits. In the meantime, I will leave your black rose on Matthew’s doorstep and you shall see to the mistress. You know it is best not to keep her waiting.”

“Yes, indeed.” My eyes rose toward the ceiling, as though I could see through and into Sabrina’s bedroom. Once again, my skin crawled slightly before I shook off the premonition. I looked back down at Robin and nodded. “Join me for a hunt afterward? We can slay mortals and drink brandy like brothers.”

“I do not know.” For the first time that night, Robin smirked. “Every time we go out together, you wind up corrupting me.”

“I get you to remove that bloody stick up your ass, you mean.” I smiled in return and felt somewhat more at ease when my brother chuckled and walked ahead of me to his door. He opened it, but paused to look back at me, his hand still on the door knob.

I perked an eyebrow at him. “What is it?” I asked.

Robin sighed and nodded. “I will return here and look for you when my business is finished. To ‘remove the stick up my ass’ as you so eloquently put it.”

I laughed, walking out to the corridor and strolling beside him when he shut the door. “Did you just swear, Robin?”

“No, I quoted you. There is a difference.” His grin resurfaced and remained a fixture until we reached the stairs and headed in opposite directions. I nodded at him when he said, “Until later, brother,” and watched him trudge down the first flight of stairs. Then, I turned toward the next flight of stairs, regarding the path to Sabrina’s door.

Swift footsteps carried me upward and as I reached the top of the staircase, I took notice of a familiar face departing from Sabrina’s room. My brother Timothy nodded toward Sabrina’s guard and ran his fingers through his disheveled brown locks before looking at me. The grin on his face spoke a thousand words without a one of them uttered. I rolled my eyes and paused when Timothy stopped in front of me.

“Did you wrestle with a lion, Timothy?” I asked.

Timothy huffed a chuckle, a smug grin surfacing. “You know, you are not the only one the mistress shows favor to, Flynn.”

“Ah, Sabrina did this to you?” I perked an eyebrow. “So she is in that type of mood.”

“Oh yes, a regular firecracker tonight. I brought her dinner and let’s just say she came back for dessert.” Timothy stared at me. I failed to register a reaction to his words. His eyes glinted with a hint of loathe in response. “Rumor has it you’re slipping.”

“Oh, does it?” I shrugged, appearing more nonchalant about hearing such news than I truly felt. “Had to strike at the best moment possible. Not that you would know about such things.” I flashed him a sarcastic smile.

Timothy bristled. “I know more about those things than you probably suspect.”

“Undoubtedly, Timothy. A man of your skill and prowess could instruct even an assassin such as myself, oh captain, my captain.” I bowed with a flourish.

“Fuck off, Flynn.” A dismissive wave of his hand preceded a pivot and a turn toward the stairs. “I’ll let you get to the inquisition I have no doubt awaits you. Happy Birthday, brother.” Timothy cackled. I fought off the urge to draw my sword and sever his head from the rest of his body, hand upon the hilt and eyes focused on his entire trek until he disappeared from sight. My mouth opened to rain down obscenities on the ghost of his presence until another voice entered the fray.

“Flynn.”

Knocked from a homicial tail spin, I turned and directed my attention to Sabrina’s guard as he cleared his throat and stared at me. Even Paul possessed the fear of me in his brown eyes when they regarded me. “Sabrina awaits,” he said.

I nodded in response. Paul opened the door to her penthouse. A shiver ran up my spine as I entered and the click of the door closing behind me bore an eerie finality to it.

At first it seemed my fears were unwarranted. As was tradition, Sabrina lit the room with candles, conveying more of a sense of comfort than warning my imminent doom awaited. I removed my glasses, folding them up and slipping them into my pocket just in time for her to acknowledge my presence somewhere within. She asked, “Is that my dark killer?” and had it been anybody else, I would not have been disquieted by the soft, sweet tone of voice she possessed. As it was, hearing it did nothing to quell my apprehension.

“It is I.” I indulged in one last, steadying breath before continuing inside. Strolling through the sitting area without pause, I walked to her bedroom and leaned against the doorway the moment I arrived. A vision of my mistress flooded my eyes. “Good evening, dark mother,” I said. “You look radiant as usual. I trust your time in New York was pleasant?”

Sabrina smiled. Sitting in a chair facing her desk, she surveyed the jewelry laid before her, her hands busy fastening an earring to an ear. I stood straight again and walked closer, picking up her necklace. Sabrina lowered her hands, yet sat perfectly still, allowing me to fasten the gold chain around her neck and place a soft kiss just below her ear.

She smelt like roses. Her cheeks were ruddy from a fresh feed. A soft moan rose from her throat as I stepped away. “Darling Flynn,” she said with a chuckle. “You are debonair as always.”

“Only for you, Mistress.” I smirked as she looked at me. Her eyes caressed mine in a deep gaze reminiscent of ambrosia; delectable and decadent. I drank from it as we stared at one another. “My charms may seduce the mortals, but for you, they are a mark of my devotion.”

“And devoted you are, dear.” Sabrina turned in her chair to face me. “Five years has passed us by rather quickly, hasn’t it? And you have only impressed me all the more with what a vampire you have become.”

Bowing, I allowed my smile to become all the more sinister. “As always, I have you to thank for that.”

She stood. “I only bestowed the dark gift, my son. You are the one who has become the face the seven covens see in their nightmares.” Sabrina stepped close to me, placing a hand on the lapel of my coat, her gaze never straying from mine. “If I had to do it all over, I would slide my teeth into that scared mortal and allow him to cross into immortality again. Loyal killer. Your will is as sure as it was when I commissioned you to be my assassin.”

Her chest touched mine and her lips hovered close. I felt my fangs slip from their hiding place as I plunged into a state of arousal. “And I would drink from your wrist again,” I said, “Bathing my tongue with the taste of your blood.”

“Oh yes, I know you would.” I felt a hand slide down and cup me through my trousers. The groan I emitted brought a smile to her face. “You desire to kiss me, my killer?”

I shivered. “I desire to do far more than that.”

Sabrina laughed in response. Her hand granted me an extra squeeze. “Oh, I know you do, but first tell me, my darling Flynn, if the task I assigned before I left has been completed?”

“Yes, it has.” My hands burned with the desire to touch her as well, raising in a slow, nervous manner beyond my own volition. A slow nod preceded a hard swallow. “A dagger straight through his heart, just as you requested.”

“Very good.” She leaned closer, tipping her head to entreat me. My hands landed on her back. Shutting my eyes, I moved forward to engage her lips with mine.

Until a hand wrapped itself around my throat.

My eyes flew open. Hers did as well. A look of malice replaced the seduction which had been present no more than five seconds prior. “Insolent vampire!” she yelled, her fangs slipping out. “How dare you not confess your sins to me?!”

Before I had the chance to react, I found myself being thrown onto a chair, the hilt of my sword digging into my side as I spilled onto the seat. Sabrina slapped me across my face with such force it whipped my head to the side. Her foot crushed down on top of the arousal her previous actions brought about.

I screamed with pain. She grabbed my chin and turned my head to face her again.

“For four years, I have come to rely on you, Flynn!” she said, her voice ascending to a shout from the start. I imagined the entire coven house could hear her as she roared. “To do as you are asked and when you are asked to do it! I asked that you kill Anthony two days prior to when you finished the task. Two days! I had to find out from my spies that you extended Anthony mercy to go on a little hunt for you.” Grabbing my coat with both hands, she lifted me to my feet, slamming me against her body. “May I remind you I have killed people for less insubordination?”

I sneered. “No, you need not remind me. I am usually the one doing the killing for you.”

Sabrina hit me again, but held onto me to prevent me from flying back. I hissed at the affront. She ignored the outburst, however, and drew me close again. “I am embarrassed at you!” she said. “That I have to have a talk with you I normally reserve for the underlings. What do you have to say for yourself?!”

A growl rumbled from my throat. “I can only apologize for my lapse in judgment.”

“Lapse?” Sabrina threw me back onto the chair and straddled my lap. Her fingernails cut into my skin when she grabbed me by the neck, drawing rivulets of blood. “A lapse in judgment would have been for you to kill him in front of a witness or to strike at an inopportune moment, not to hold off his execution for two days. So, let me ask, what was so damn important that you would consort with a traitor and an enemy of the coven?!”

Swallowing hard, I presented a half-truth to the only soul I had a hard time lying to. “I lost something and I wished to have it back. Nothing more. There was no treason in my actions.”

“Your disobedience was your treason. What was this item?”

“A piece of jewelry.” I paused, attempting to make this sound convincing. “Anthony was unable to find it, though. I promptly disposed of the piece of waste when he failed me.”

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. Her grip relaxed, but only slightly. “Jewelry of what sort? And why was this important to you?”

“It was not important. Merely a trinket I stole from one of my victims, but sold in haste. I wished to give it to Rose.”

She continued staring at me, her gaze searching and skeptical. I met the look she shot me measure by measure, a disarming grin ghosting at the corner of my mouth. “Mistress, surely you do not think I would betray you. I merely thought the bastard should be good for something before I ran him through.” My smile broadened. “You would have been amused, watching him believe I would spare his life.”

Sabrina’s eyes remained locked for another precarious moment, until her scowl finally relaxed. She indulged in a deep breath and let go of my neck, her fangs retracting. I nearly sighed with relief when she smiled. “You are devilishly sadistic, my assassin,” she said. “I should have known you were merely making sport out of him.”

I scoffed. “Naturally, Mistress. I am nothing but loyal to you.”

“Yes, you are, Flynn.” Sabrina stood. She strolled back to her desk and sat in front of her jewelry once more. Lifting her other earring, Sabrina set about the task of securing it to her lobe. “It’s a shame Anthony was not able to procure your piece of jewelry.”

“Yes, well, we both know what a moronic waste of space he was.” I rubbed my neck, feeling the grooves where Sabrina’s nails had dug in. The scent of blood teased at my nostrils and when I lifted my fingers, the viscous liquid glistening on my glove verified the slight damage done. “He looked better as a pile of dust than he did as a vampire.”

Sabrina laughed. “This better have taught you a lesson, though. When I say they are to die, they die at once and not a moment afterward.”

“Lesson learned, Mistress.” Sitting up in my chair, I wiped at the blood on my neck one final time. “Now, tell your assassin what he might do to make it up to you.”

She smiled. “My darling Flynn. He does live for the kill.” Glancing at me to wink, she turned her attention back to the collection of gold in front of her and slipped her rings on her fingers. “Well, there is one thing, as much as I was hoping to hold off on assigning you a task on your birthday. I think you will find this target in particular amusing, though, so consider it a present of sorts.”

I perked an eyebrow. “Amusing? Do tell.”

“There is a human who is causing me a great deal of consternation.” She paused. “I want her gone before she meddles in my affairs any longer. Several members of the coven have caught her snooping around lately and one was successful in tracking her down. Now, I need my assassin to strike while the iron is hot.”

“A human?” I laughed. “Oh please, Mistress. Tell me you are jesting.”

“I’m not, Flynn, and this one is no ordinary girl.” She raised an eyebrow in my direction. “So don’t underestimate her.”

“Underestimate her?” My laugh turned more uproarious. I shook my head. “The covens throw the best they have to offer at me and all of them meet with a swift end. I highly doubt some mortal girl is going to give me much trouble.”

“Yes, but as I said she is not ordinary. I have reason to believe she is a sorceress.”

“A sorceress?” This only served to tickle me all the more. “Has she attempted to call down hexes on the coven or turn one of us into a newt?” I continued to chuckle, but when Sabrina failed to join in my merriment, I sobered slightly. The grin remained affixed on my face, however. “Who is the girl and what harm does she mean you?” I asked.

Sabrina stood, walking back to where I sat with a look in her eyes which caused my stomach to churn again. Heavy-lidded seduction dripped from every step she took and in the slow manner she lowered herself onto my lap again. Touching my chin, she lifted my head to ensure she had my full attention. This time, when her fangs slipped from their hiding place, my teeth slid out in arousal.

Sabrina grinned and leaned close. “Do you trust me, dark son?” she asked. Her lips touched my neck.

My eyes drifted shut. I nodded. “Absolutely, Mistress.” My voice descended to a whisper.

She placed a kiss further up my neck. The points of her teeth tickled at my skin. “And you still desire me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Your mistress has not forgotten your birthday kisses. I will reward you very, very pointedly for your loyalty to me. But first, I need you to quiet your mind and listen to my words.” She paused. Her lips found my ear and teased at the lobe with her cool breath as she spoke. “The girl must die. And my killer — my assassin — will do it for me without needing to know why. Instead, he will do the deed exactly as he was asked. When he returns, then I will show him my appreciation. This is all the motivation you need. Understood?”

A slow nod followed her words. “Yes,” I said, speaking the word while hearing it reverberate as though through a tunnel. My mind seemed to be swimming down the current of Sabrina’s ministrations, not tethered to my body. “I understand.”

Her lips departed from their position beside my ear. She pulled back and, like a moon emerging from an eclipse, her face slowly came into view. Our noses brushed and mouths touched when she leaned closer, the contact tentative; teasing. I rose slightly to kiss her back, but she stopped me with a finger placed on my lips, pushing me against the back of the chair.

“My kisses will be here waiting for you,” she said. “In the meantime, you will go to Temple University. You will locate a girl named Monica Alexander. She has brown hair with a blonde streak that runs down her bangs, and she resides in a small house by the edge of the campus. Kill her quickly and silently, and bring me the scarf she keeps wrapped around her neck as proof of her death.”

I swallowed hard. “It shall be done as you say.”

“Good.” Sabrina stood, severing the connection. I blinked, my head feeling as though it was surfacing from being submerged. Sabrina looked down at me, smiling as I stood. “Is that a new sword, dear?” she asked.

Glancing down at the katana, I furrowed my brow at the weapon, as though I had forgotten about its presence until that moment. “Yes, it is,” I said. “I figured the red and black suited me.”

“And its previous owner?”

My grin turned devilish. “Gone to meet his maker, I am afraid.”

“Very good,” she said. Sabrina turned and began walking away. “Humans are such contemptible animals, aren’t they? Perhaps you can use that blade to do away with mine.”

I nodded. “I shall, Mistress,” I said as I produced my sunglasses from my pocket and adjusted my coat. “Contemptible, indeed. Thank you for freeing me of that curse.”

Sabrina smiled in response and her parting words carried just as much enchantment as the execution order she presented. Dazed, I did not recall when I started for the door, except that within moments I found myself in the corridor once more, headed for the stairs. The stride which led me out into the night was a purposeful one, and such a posture continued unfettered until I emerged out on the street.

Standing before the coven’s main entrance, I lit a cigarette and shoved the pack back into my coat. As I slid my gloved hand into my pants pocket, however, my fingers touched the hard metal of Lydia’s necklace and took hold of it as if on instinct. Withdrawing it brought forth my lie, positioned right before my eyes with moonlight reflecting from its pendant. A sinister smirk crawled across my face. Lydia’s voice resonated in my ears.

“I’ll suggest one better, Flynn. Why don’t you just wear it and spite me with it?”

“Your wish is my command,” I said. With a nod, I fastened the chain around my neck and hid it underneath my shirt. That done, my gait resumed its deliberate tenor, bound for Temple University. A slight shiver settled on my bones. The air about me took on a disquieting feel. I did not know from whence it came, only that it was there and did not belong to either Sabrina or myself. The wind carried a premonition, without a face and without a name, and the questions yet whispered at me while I walked.

At that moment, I knew I might be standing on the doorstep of revelation. Little did I know just how right I was.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning

The pendant felt as though it was burning a hole in my pocket as I returned to the coven house, bent on retiring for the morning and putting the whole sordid episode with Anthony behind me. Masking my discomfort at smuggling contraband through the front doors with a casual gait, I offered the doorman a cursory nod. Then I continued onward toward the stairs, my pace not skipping a beat.

Wing-tipped shoes took the stairs two at a time while my mind remained fixated on Sabrina, not sensing the redheaded vixen anywhere nearby and yet, feeling unsettled just the same. My meeting with Anthony marking the eve of my fifth immortal birthday, it reminded me how my mistress enjoyed celebrating the anniversary of my awakening. I suppressed a shiver at the notion. In my thoughts, I saw her lying naked on her bed, her brown eyes piercing into mine. Her finger beckoning me to come closer. I feared vexing her away from our yearly tradition, granted, but found myself far more troubled that she would discover the pendant for some peculiar reason.

Shrugging off the premonition, I continued ascending the stairs. The hour was growing late and I needed to rest.

I passed my brethren without making eye contact, but sensed their gazes falling on me; their facial expressions the standard fare I had come to expect after years of debauchery. Cold stares. Distrust latent in the way they regarded me and a slight tinge of fear at knowing with what ease I could end each and every one of them. The corner of my mouth curled upward. I finished my ascent, musing on how much my station had afforded me, aside from an added dose of paranoia and a very small circle of friends.

My accommodations, for instance. No longer slumbering in a neophyte’s closet, I sojourned in a spacious living area normally reserved for older vampires. No, I had no need of Anthony’s reminder to realize how much jealousy flew about me and how many hands itched for the tools to my undoing. Not a one of them dared to cross Sabrina, though, and everybody knew better than to attempt and fail. Others had tried. None had succeeded. They all found themselves visited by the same fate which embraced my latest target.

Still, as I approached the door to my room, the sound of a familiar being milling about inside my room reminded me I yet held favored status with some. I paused to remove my leather gloves and slipped them into my pocket. My fledgling smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. I did not love the woman, this much was certain, but her precence pleased me, nonetheless.

I opened the door. “Rose. Sweet Rose,” I said as I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, blocking out the artifical lighting in the hallway. Darkness wrapped itself around me, broken only by the soft glow of a sparse collection of candles. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Came for a visit prior to lying down for the day?”

The slender figure of a blonde-haired woman stood no more than ten feet away. Rose turned to face me, revealing a low-cut black dress hugging tight to her curves with her hair flowing over her shoulders and spilling onto her breasts. She returned my grin with one of her own and closed the distance between us. “I haven’t seen you for a while, so I thought I would claim the elusive Flynn first,” Rose said as she reached up, touching my sunglasses and sliding them from my face. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thank you, my dear,” I said as I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes to the dim light. Rose set my glasses onto a table beside the entryway while I started into my room, removing my coat as I walked. “I had hoped to be back sooner, but had a few matters to attend to before I could return.”

“As did I.” Rose slithered behind me, taking my coat from my grip and tossing it onto a chair before placing her hands on my shoulders. I felt her fingers run down, along my back, and suppressed a soft groan. “But you were out quite a long time,” she said. “Have you become suicidal on top of being fearless, staying out so close to dawn?”

I laughed. “No, it was that twit Anthony from Matthew’s coven.” I let Rose slip her hands underneath the black, linen suit jacket I wore and felt it slide from my torso before being tossed where my coat landed. “I had to finish my business with that overinflated piece of refuse before I could sate my own needs for the night.”

“So it is done, then?”

Rose’s hands caressed the blades against my body and I closed my eyes in response, as though she was stroking more than steel with those long fingers. “Yes, it is done. Though there is no doubt in my mind that Sabrina shall be upset with me. I had at him twice before completing the act.”

“Living life dangerously? You will need a very convincing tale to escape Sabrina’s wrath.” One of her well-manicured nails taunted with a button.

The corner of my mouth curled upward. “I will tell her I sought a trinket for you,” I said as I turned to face Rose. “Something as beautiful as you, thus giving him an impossible task.”

Rose smiled. Past her parted lips, I saw her fangs lying in slumber. “And now, Flynn flatters me,” she said as she leaned close. Her voice descended to a whisper. “Tell me a story before you seduce me.”

“What type of story?”

“What did you really ask Anthony to retrieve?”

“This is a boring tale with a disappointing ending. He was unable to locate what I requested.”

“Then tell me that he thought he had a chance to escape when you feigned showing him mercy.”

I chuckled at her schoolgirl-like enthusiasm. “Oh, he did. That he did, indeed.” Reaching up with one hand, I brushed her hair away from her chest and allowed my gaze to drift southward. My fingertips ran along her cleveage line while my devilish gaze rose to intersect hers again. Her eyes glinted with evil, her smile just as wicked as mine. “I tore his garish clothing,” I said, “And ran him through his gut while he bled like a stuck pig. Then I sank my blade deep into his chest and watched the wind carry him away.”

She laughed. “Reduced to a pile of dust.”

“Only ash and nothing more.”

Her lips crashed into mine, our bodies pressing together despite the blades I yet wore upon my person. Rose pulled away from the kiss, but her chest continued heaving into mine. “Tell me another story.” The words dripped with lust. “Who did you kill before Anthony?”

Grabbing her head, I pushed her into a kiss and bit her lip as I responded. “Demetrius, again of Matthew’s coven. One of his elders. The stupid bastard tried to ferret information from Robin.”

“Stupid bastard, indeed.” Once more our lips met. “Tell me you made his death slow. Tell me you made him suffer.”

“He suffered good and proper, Pet.” Stripping off my shoulder holster, I tossed my knives out of the way, then grabbed hold of Rose again. “I pinned him against the wall with my katana and then rid him of the curse that was his head.”

“Soon there will be nothing left of Matthew’s coven.”

“Not when I’m through with it.” Our mouths hovered dangerously close. “I shall kill them all, one by one. Their blood shall form a river of crimson underneath my feet and I shall laugh like a madman as they perish. How does that sound, Rose? Does this fantasy please you?”

Rose threw back her head and laughed before jumping into my arms and starting to devour me with kisses. We stumbled to my bedroom and fell onto the bed while she popped the buttons from my shirt and raked her elongated fangs against my bare chest. Enraptured though I was, the fatigue of the hour began to make its presence known and threatened to take me under if I did not hasten our tyrst along. So I rolled on top of Rose and took the reins, exchanging her slow, deliberate pace for one of my own.

I was sound asleep by the time she left, comatose within mere minutes of finishing with Rose. Settled against the bed and lured into the repose of slumber, my mind fell silent, my secret safe within my unconscious body, at least for the time being. The scorn of Sabrina awaited me when I woke, but at the moment, I seemed safe from any being’s wrath.

Or, so I thought anyway.

***

I had been asleep for a few hours when an ancient premonition invaded my dreams.

The first thing I became aware of was a flash of brilliant white light, throwing me into a sterile room, seemingly without walls. The bright illumination surrounding me should have had me writhing and praying for death, but as I opened my eyes, I furrowed my brow at the absense of pain without my dark spectacles to protect me. At once the solution came to me, something impossible and yet, the only explanation I could conjure.

I was dead. One of my enemies slipped in as I slept and plunged a blade through my chest. If I had expired and gone on into the hereafter, however, I could not help but wonder if the paperwork had gotten misappropriated. The waiting room surrounding me could hardly be described as the portal to hell.

“Hello?” I said, turning around only to find the same endless room surrounding me on the other side. My eyebrow arched. “Would anybody care to explain where I am and what the fuck I am doing here?”

“I remember him,” a voice said in response. Belonging to the female persuasion and one too familiar for me to ignore. My skin crawled as she continued speaking somewhere behind me. “But he wasn’t this ‘Flynn’ person back then. I believe his name was Peter Dawes… wasn’t it?”

I sneered. “Miss Davies, it has been a while.” Turning to face Lydia, I scowled at her while her emerald eyes shined defiance back at me. This time, my deceased former lover possessed no sword of which to speak and none of the wounds I inflicted on her bled through the white dress she wore. I found myself facing a woman holding herself with an air of authority, not a murder victim.

“Yes, it has been,” she said. “Four years since the last time we saw each other, to be exact.”

“Indeed,” I said, “And I seem to recall telling you then that your Peter does not live here any longer. Now, have you come to bore me further, or do you have something relevant to say to me at last?”

Lydia held her gaze, even when mine turned sinister. “You went looking for the necklace again.” Moving forward, she strolled as though having all the time in the world. “If Peter doesn’t live there anymore, then why did that dream haunt you so much?”

“Ah… so that was you.” I laughed. “I should have known. Such a memory returning after so many years locked inside a vault.” Knitting my hands together behind my back, I paced around her as if to size her up. “The adulterous wench returns. And she wishes me to recall such trivialities as a necklace, sending me on a quest for her gaudy piece of trash. Now, why is this, Lydia?”

“Who says I was the one who gave you back that memory?”

“These things do not simply happen on their own.”

Lydia smirked. “Are you sure about that?” She perked an eyebrow. “Maybe that meddlesome mortal you think died five years ago is still alive in there somewhere. Have you ever stopped to think about that?”

“No, dearest, I have been too busy entertaining notions of what I might do with this pendant.” I stopped pacing and smiled, baring fangs at Lydia. “Perhaps I might drape it over the necks of the women I seduce right before I murder them. I could use it as a token to lure them to their deaths.”

She scoffed. “I’ll suggest one better, Flynn. Why don’t you just wear it and spite me with it.”

“Splendid. Perhaps I shall.”

Lydia laughed. “I don’t buy the act. The whole persona, it’s nothing but a facade.”

“I can show you what a facade looks like.” Walking closer to her, I raised a hand and touched her chin, pointing her neck toward me. Instead of plunging my fangs into her throat, though, I leaned close and whispered in her ear. “How about the facade of telling somebody that you love them and then whoring yourself like the slut you were? That you pretend not to be with your self-righteous air of pompous bullshit. How is that for a facade, precious?”

“Why does Flynn care about that?”

“Oh, make no mistake about it, I do not give a shit about your mortal infidelity any longer,” I said, pushing her head away. “I have no lack of lovers. I can pick and choose whom I please and have my way with all of them at once if I wish. I am merely exposing your hypocrisy.” Pausing, I waited for her gaze to return to mine. “Now, it is my turn for questions. Why have you visited me again?”

“Because I want to speak to Peter.”

“And what do you wish to say to him?”

“You’re holding back his gifts.” Lydia narrowed her eyes. “And you’re using them as your own.”

I scoffed. “Gifts,” I said. “Here we go with this cloak and dagger bullshit line everybody feeds me without a single person explaining what the devil they mean.”

“Kind of makes you think…” The corner of Lydia’s mouth curled upward. “Doesn’t it.”

The smug look on her face raised my ire at once. I sneered at Lydia. “Fuck you, apparition. And fuck that name you keep evoking. Stuff these bloody gifts of yours while you are at it; if you have answers for me, then I am all ears, but if not, then leave me the fuck alone and never come back.” My voice rose in octave the more insensed I became. “I am sick and tired of being touted as some special creature without being let in on the grand riddle and the last thing I need is another damn voice lending in the chorus!”

My voice echoed throughout the room, a hush falling as the echo dissipated. Lydia held her gaze and for a moment, we seemed fixed at an impasse until she said, “There are more things going on than you can begin to imagine. Things that have been in existence longer than there’s been a vampire named Flynn. All I can tell you is the answers are coming.” Lydia frowned. “I only hope there’s enough of Peter left in there.”

I did not respond. Lydia turned to depart from my presence, but something caused her a moment’s hesitation. She looked back at me. “Just remember, not everything is what it seems to be. If Peter is still there, past the violence and death, he will understand this phrase. ‘The only thing worse than being blind is having sight, but no vision.’” Her eyes fell to the ground. “And I never stopped loving you. You’re the one who stopped loving me.”

Lydia consummated her departure as though carried off by the wind, there one moment and gone the next. I stood in the midst of the white room with nothing but another riddle until the light began to fade and my eyes opened to reveal my slumbering body never left the bed.

I rubbed my eyes while an ache rose to a burn, the darkness of heavy shades not enough to mask that it was indeed daytime and my retinas were none too pleased at being exposed to anything but pitch black. As a gasp of pain escaped my lips, I covered my eyes with my hand and stumbled out of bed, fumbling around and colliding with several pieces of furniture on my way to the entryway. ‘Damn Rose,’ I thought to myself. ‘She left my sunglasses next to the door.’ I tripped and muttered obsenities until finding the table and using my sense of touch to locate where my spectacles had been placed.

A sigh of relief punctuated shoving the dark lenses over my eyes, but from there I was unable to settle into sleep again. So, I showered, dressed, and whittled away some time staring at Lydia’s necklace, wondering why the devil I was entertaining her words as much as I found myself doing. Sight, but lacking vision. I remembered the quote as being one of her oft-recited proverbs, although I had no notion of why Helen Keller’s words were relevent to me. It defied my understanding.

“Mortal nonsense,” I said aloud, wrapping the chain around my fingers and allowing the pendant to dangle toward the palm of my hand. “That is all this amounts to. Utter and complete mortal nonsense.” I shook my head and thrust the offending piece of jewelry into my pants pocket, rising from my chair to find something else to occupy my mind. The shiver of ghosts from the beyond, whispering their idle threats and veiled insight, was the least of my concerns on the fifth anniversary of my death.

I had a coven mother to face, who would undoubtedly discover what I did in her absence.

Sabrina was a force to be reckoned with when vexed at one of her children.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning

***

Chapter Nine

Only The Fates knew how much I hated when people kept me waiting.

My fingers turned an unlit cigarette around several times before raising it to my mouth and inserting it between my lips. I dug into my coat for my lighter, flipping the top open and igniting it with one swift motion that might have impressed somebody had they been watching while I did it. The end of the cigarette glowed orange and smoke rose while I thrust my lighter back into my pocket. Blue eyes gazed through the obstruction of sunglasses, looking for my target.

I should have never allowed him to live. Each day I permitted him to continue his pitiful existence, I was risking both my neck and my reputation, possibly suggesting that the assassin might be growing soft and merciful while such was not the case. As much as I pondered this paradox myself – if holding my hand indicated a latent weakness rising to the surface – the compulsion which caused me to spare his life dispelled such myths by whispering the reasons why again.

He had ways of locating desired items that left all the seven covens in awe over his scavenging abilities. As such, when Sabrina touched my ear with her cool lips and whispered his name as my next target, I knew I had to use this moment to its fullest before the fires of hell pulled Anthony into damnation. My mistress left for New York and the window of opportunity remained opened for three days. This was the last day, however. The time had come to settle debts with a man living on borrowed time.

I drew from the cigarette again and peered through the smoke for the garishly dressed immortal who enjoyed frequenting this club. Loud music played around me and a thick crowd of mortals choked me with the stench of humanity, causing me to sneer from my position in the shadows, hopeful the vile scent of their sweat would wash off my clothing. With a sigh, I lowered my cigarette from my mouth. My eyes continued to scan the crowd while my thoughts drifted to matters of questioning my sanity once more.

Four years had passed, ticking their interminable minutes and registering one more day following the one prior until the months began to stack up. Time itself held no significance but to count one more stroke upon the wall; one more day elapsed, one more year winding to a close. Such seemed to be the unbroken melody that made up my existence, punctuated by the plethora of concerns one who called themselves an assassin could be expected to face. Robin’s forewarning that my peaceful existence as a neophyte was to perish could not have been more apropos. I sensed it as I rose each evening.

I was a shadow and, yet, I was infamous. All who gazed upon my countenance knew their time was through and nobody saw me whom I did not wish. All knew the name of Flynn, though, and the name possessed enough of a reputation to send shivers down every immortal spine within the city. I relished it, savoring even the plots formed against my life by conspirators who all met their end by my hand in time. Death saturated my life with crimson-colored decadence.

It evoked the slightest bit of unease, that I had become this monster after only five years.

“Losing your bloody edge,” I muttered, dismissing the thought of unease just as quickly as it surfaced. I knew what caused this instability within – a dream that still taunted me even after several weeks had elapsed since I woke with its images fresh in my mind. I relieved it each time I considered what placed me on my current course. The unconscious ruminations were hardly random, they formed a memory from my mortal days I had never regained. And to recall something after five years was nothing short of a miracle.

I sighed at the notion and glanced at my watch, focusing my attention on the task at hand again.

Just then, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

My head rose and my eyes changed focus. Through the crowd, I spotted him strolling across the dance floor, a stark contrast to the men and women dressed in shiny, modern material. He donned a crushed velvet suit. I rolled my eyes in response, stealing a moment to observe how often our kind indulged in the most garish fashions possible. His pale skin nearly glowing from the combination of dark clothing and strobe lights, Anthony seemed ready to add a flashing sign advertising what he was to his ensemble. The woman holding onto his arm added to the absurdity with her too-thick makeup and promiscuous attire.

Anthony kissed her hand as she slid onto a chair. Mortal woman. I stepped from the shadows and leaned against a post, drawing from my cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke large enough to give myself away. The movement and the puff of white worked its magic. Anthony turned his head, spotting me, while I shot him an impatient glare. “Excuse me, my dear,” Anthony said to his companion. “A little business to attend to.” He winked and she watched while he nodded at me and cocked his head toward the back. I stood straight, pivoting to stroll for the door to the alleyway running behind this godforsaken establishment. Not a moment too soon. Had I been forced to wait any longer, I might have had to murder somebody.

Once outside, a rush of cold air hit me and felt reborn again. The door shut, drowning out the noise from inside, and blessed peace wrapped its soothing arms around me, stilling my disgust, if just for a moment. I strolled to the other side of the vacant street and leaned against an adjacent building, finishing my cigarette and flicking its remnant onto the pavement. No sooner did the depleted nicotine smash into the macadam in a display of sparks and ash did the door swing upon once more, bringing with it a painful reminder of the music and the stench from inside.

Anthony looked at me and smiled while the door clucked shut behind him. I breathed a sigh of relief as the night became still once more. “Flynn!” Anthony said, the tone of his voice making it sound as though we were long-lost friends. “I didn’t realize you were to return so shortly! You certainly don’t waste time, do you?”

“I told you two nights, Anthony,” I said, without moving from my position. “And you agreed. It has been two nights and here I am.”

“And I should have known Flynn is a man of his word.” Anthony adjusted a puffed-out scarf tied around his neck, another embellishment making his entire outfit look all the more idiotic. “I trust the arrangement we agreed upon is still favorable?”

My facial expression remained stoic. “Were you able to find it?”

Anthony chuckled. “I am able to find anything, given enough persuasion. I spent the better part of last evening interrogating mortals and bleeding them dry to find its current owner. One of my more daunting challenges… But, I found it.”

“Let me see it.”

“Ut… ut… ut…” Anthony lifted a finger, wagging it back and forth in a gesture which threatened to make me lose my self-restraint. I ignored it, but only for the time being. “First the answer to my question. You told me that if I procured your trinket, you would offer me protection from Sabrina. Is this agreement still favorable?”

“I have not indicated otherwise.” I glared as much as possible through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. Stepping forward a pace, I folded my arms across my chest, feeling the hilt of one of my knives press against my body from its position underneath my heavy wool coat. “Now, allow me to see it. My end of the agreement is contingent upon this being the item I requested.”

“Oh, it is,” he said, slipping his hand in his jacket and producing a wallet. “I recognized it instantly from your description.” I watched him open the billfold, about to break into a sweat over seeing this item I sold in haste return after four years. The action of leather unfolding took on painful slowness. Anthony reached inside, but then paused. I could have spat acid when he closed the wallet again.

“You know, Flynn,” he said, placing the hand holding the wallet on his hip and reaching into his coat again with his other hand. A pack of cigarettes emerged from within. One wound up perched between his lips while he fumbled for his lighter. “I still find it queer that an immortal with your reputation asked for something like this. I have fielded some fairly unusual requests and discovered a great deal about other vampires as a result, but when you told me you wanted something…” He chuckled, exhaling smoke through his nostrils while pocketing his lighter. “… so feminine, I was taken aback. I thought, if anything, you would desire some sort of weapon.”

Drawing a deep breath inward, I held it long enough to steady my anger. “Anthony, as I told you before, this is none of your fucking business.”

“Oh come now, Flynn. Indulge me.” He smiled. “Tell me of its relevance.”

“I…” The word emerged through the precarious hold I maintained on my own rage. My sharp tone of voice turned vitriolic. “… would sooner slit your throat and take your wallet while you choke on a puddle of your own blood. Now…” I cocked my head toward the wallet. “Let us finish our business with one another before I change my mind.”

Anthony huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Now, now, now, no need to get snarky. It’s a simple question.”

“And my response a simple answer. Leave it the fuck alone.”

“You know what your problem is.” With one hand, Anthony slid the wallet back into his coat. The other hand pointed his cigarette at me while he spoke. “You’re too intense, Flynn, for such a young immortal. You take your job too seriously and became reclusive and arrogant as a result. I can assure you, this will earn you no friends amongst the vampire collective as a whole.”

“As if I desired such a thing.” My arms fell to my sides. I began to step around Anthony, itching to instill the fear of God in him. “You are all pompous bastards – the lot of you – and your ways irritate me. I could not care less about the opinions of such impotent mortal lovers.”

“What did you call me?” Anthony’s eyes widened first, then narrowed.

The corner of my mouth curled in a grin. Parting enough to show teeth. “I called you a motherfucking mortal lover. What do you have to say about that?”

Anthony gritted his teeth, tossing aside his cigarette. “I would say that if being something other than the monster you are makes me a mortal lover, then being Sabrina’s trained pet makes you little more than the same brand of trash she is. Refuse.” He scoffed. “Utter refuse. Chosen son of an inferior coven! You have yours coming to you someday, I can promise you that.”

“Is this a threat?”

“More than a threat, it is a fact. Even I see the jealousy your brethren harbor for you and such jealousy can only be allowed to fester for so long. They’ll surrender your head on a platter the first moment somebody offers thirty pieces of silver.” He smiled. “You may have the exterior of a warrior, but you have the heart of a lap dog. And I will not be insulted by such a subordinate creature.”

“You’ll see the teeth of this lap dog soon enough if you fail to produce that which you promised me, Anthony.” Two pointed eyeteeth emerged from their slumber as I ceased pacing, balling my gloved hands into fists. “Or need I run through to prove my point?”

Anthony hissed, his own fangs slipping out and his eyes shooting figurative flames of wrath. “Bare your teeth at me will you? I was eating the flesh of children before you were suckling on your mother’s breast.”

“And I have slain immortals for less arrogance than that.” Faster than the action of lighting a cigarette, I slipped both hands under the folds of my coat and drew a set of blades, holding out both knives for Anthony to see. “Eager to die?” I asked. “Do you have any notion of how quickly I could make you dust on the pavement?”

Anthony sneered. “Where other men fight with fists, Flynn carries knives.”

“Better a blade than a stake.” I lunged with a knife, but missed on purpose. Anthony dodged out of the way, his grin turning smug while I held back any facial response. Including the sadistic grin that wished to emerge from toying with him. “I find stakes idiotic,” I continued. “Don’t you?”

“Over-inflated mythological devises, much like yourself.”

I lunged again, this time cutting into his jacket, forcing him to retreat a few paces. Anthony’s eyes darted to the cut and back to me as if afraid to allow me out of his sight. I smirked. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” I asked. “Coming from a vampire who dresses like the ringmaster of a circus and takes the company of mortals to cover for his inadequacies? I hope to heaven that if I am as pitiful of a creature at your age, somebody does me the favor of sending me to hell.”

He hissed once more. This time, as he dove for me, I dodged the attack and punched him to the ground. He spilled out and moaned, but rose to his feet. Anthony charged for me. I anticipated the action, though, and kicked him in the chest with such force that he flew against the building. His head impacted with the concrete; a solid thud preceded a long, pain-laden groan.

Springing toward him, I closed the distance between us and plunged a dagger deep into his stomach. Anthony screamed and I stepped back, watching him struggle, but only injure himself more in the process. The hilt of my knife jutted from his abdomen. I had him pinned.

I turned the other knife around in my hand, surveying the ruins of a vampire with my sadistic smirk only growing more devious the longer I beheld him. “My, what an uncomfortable position to be in,” I said, shaking my head. “And to think, I have another knife here that… ah yes, wait…” I held up a finger and lifted the blade close to my ear. “Yes, yes, I do believe this one says it wishes to know how black your heart is, Anthony. I am powerless to resist when these blades become adamant. I do not know if I will be able to stop… .”

“Alright!” Anthony yelled. He moaned once more and gritted his teeth, eyes clenching in a grimace. “Alright, I won’t ask any more bloody questions, Flynn. Just let me down.”

“I beg your pardon?” I lowered the knife, twirling it around once before slipping it back into his sheath and adjusting my coat. “I believe you forgot to say please.”

“Please! Please, please, please… Bloody hell, let me down. I’m begging you.”

“That is more like it.” Walking closer to Anthony, I wrapped my fingers around the knife’s hilt, but leaned forward and made certain to bare fangs again as I spoke. “Remember who you are trifling with. I would slice you from neck to stomach and leave you bleeding on the street to watch the sun rise. I suggest, when I remove this blade, you give me what I came for quickly and stop wasting my fucking time.”

I ripped the knife from his body before he had the chance to answer and watched with an apathetic air as he crumpled to the gritty pavement again. Strolling away from the wounded vampire, I produced a cloth from my pocket and wiped the blade clean, my eyes raising toward the sky to gage the time. I frowned and sheathed this blade as well. “Some time before dawn, please,” I said. “It is not getting any earlier.”

“Fuck,” Anthony muttered while clutching onto the building and coming to a tentative stand. Pausing to touch his wound, he winced and raised his crimson-coated fingers up to his line of vision. “I had best make this our last encounter. Just ruined a perfectly good suit.”

I said nothing in return. Anthony rummaged through his coat again and unfolded his wallet without hesitation. As he opened it, that sense of time standing still drifted from the creases of the leather and his bloody fingers held my attention captive while they reached inside. A gold chain gradually came to view, but as he raised his hand, I saw the pendant emerge from its hiding place and fought the urge to draw a sharp breath inward at the sight of what he held.

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Is this what you requested?” he asked.

I strolled forward with more confidence in my gait than I possessed at the moment and snatched the necklace away. “Yes,” I said, my voice subdued in such a queer manner, it struck even me as odd. I cleared my throat to mask the slip in composure and stared at the pendant as with one gloved hand opened, I lowered it into my palm. Allowing my thoughts to drift, I visited another time and place. Back to when my name was Peter and I possessed the pulse of a mortal man.

It was supposed to be an engagement ring. That was why I withdrew several hundred dollars from the trust fund my aunt established before she succumbed to cancer. The money from my parents’ life insurance policies and the profits from selling my father’s farm were all meant to sustain me through college and medical school, but as my residency drew to a close, I found myself fixated on the future and came to the conclusion that the time was right to propose to my beloved Lydia. That was why I found myself at the jewelry store.

I emerged with something other than a ring, however.

On this side of my dance with immortality, I could not recall why I purchased the necklace for her until visited by the dream. Then all at once, this calloused heart felt a chill cross over its grave and relived the memory as though it had some relevance to the grander scheme of things. I recalled the jeweler looking across the counter at an indecisive young man, watching as I studied several diamond rings and rejected each one. Finally, he huffed and said, “Mr. Dawes, if you’re not sure about this, then it’s probably not the best time to propose to her, is it?”

Looking up at him, I furrowed my brow and frowned, glancing from his face to the counter and back again. I frowned at my hesitation, yet allowed myself to peruse the rest of his wares until my eyes settled on it. Gilded and Gothic, it fit her personality better than the cut pieces of stone I had been studying anyway. “Well, I need to get something for her,” I said to the crotchety old bastard. “It’s her birthday in a few days.”

My eyes continued to admire the pendant, taking in all of its intricacies. Two hearts, one on top of the other, with a thorny rose draped across the two. It was something so intricate and yet, so macabre and at once, I knew Lydia was meant to have it. It was a perfect emblem for her.

I recalled purchasing it. And I recalled giving it to her. That was another memory causing me some degree of…

“Flynn?”

Shaking myself from my thoughts, my eyes lifted to engage Anthony’s once more. He clutched his stomach and scowled at me. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” I nodded and thrust the necklace into my pocket. “You’re a clever bastard, I will give you that.”

“Good. Then our agreement is intact?”

“Oh yes, yes. I shall ensure Sabrina does not touch a hair upon your head.”

“Praise be to the Fates.” Anthony sighed, glancing at his blood-soaked hand. “I feared when we first met that she had ordered you to do me in. Believe me, Flynn, I’ll not be crossing your path again, except on accid…”

As he looked at me again, I reached underneath my coat and drew a knife. The handle left my palm after no more than two seconds cradled there. With a deft flick of my wrist, I whipped it toward Anthony, whose eyes became wide as the blade plunged deep into his chest.

I grinned. “No, Anthony. Not even on accident.”

What had once been Anthony burned into dust and descended onto the ground as ash and discarded clothing. My knife bounced off the pavement with a clank and came to settle next to his remains while a gust of wind begun carrying his remnant off into the nether. I strolled toward the blade, exhaling a breath I did not know I was holding, and paused to clean my weapon again before I slipped it into its sheath. My eyes remained set upon his ashes, though. “I said Sabrina would not. I did not guarantee the same for me.”

With a quick adjustment of my coat and a moment stolen to run my fingers through my spiky locks, I set out with my pearl of great price. As I headed back for my coven, though, I knew I had just played a dangerous game and could yet face wrath for the indulgence. Sabrina’s eyes beheld more those days, seeing through a network of spies who usually worked to my benefit. In this singular action, though, they became my bane. I had to do it, though; one memory hinted at other secrets lying in wait without telling me just what existed behind the veil. All I knew was I wanted to unravel it. I wanted to know just who I was at long last.

So, I lit another cigarette, then slipped into the shadows to seek a proper victim before retiring for the day. And I hoped this small measure of insubordination would not come back to haunt me the next day.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning

I lingered in the vestibule for an additional moment, knowing I did so to my own peril. To keep Sabrina waiting could mean my execution rather than my admonishment, but I found myself attempting to interpret Sabrina’s tone and read the tea leaves in the cup. Her voice did not give me any hope of knowing what I might face when I finally stepped into her sitting room, so I glanced into as much of the living area as I could see from this vantage point. I perked an eyebrow at what I found.

In all of the times I had visited the palatial penthouse on the top floor of our building, a sparse collection of lamps always seemed to be illuminated. Enough that I knew never to remove my sunglasses for fear of burning my retinas into blindness. This time, however, the darkness staring back at me caused me to perk an eyebrow. I stepped forward just one pace. I hesitated once more, casting a wary glance at the soft glow emanating from the corner of the room. When I saw it flicker as if caught by a gust of wind, I reached up and did something I had never done before in there.

I touched my sunglasses and slid them from my face.

My eyes registered a slight tinge of pain from the candlelight, but not enough to burn. As such, I pocketed my glasses and stepped around a corner, into the sitting room where Robin and I met once with our immortal mother; where she presented me the charge to become her assassin. Thrusting a hand through my hair, I walked further into Sabrina’s personal quarters. When I finally caught sight of her, I paused my steps on instinct. My feet refused to budge any further.

Sabrina stood near a heavily draped window, her back to me, and raised a hand to part her curtains just enough for her to stare into the night. Her posture did not speak as many volumes as her manner of dress did. A blouse clung onto her slender, yet shapely, frame and even from my perspective I noticed a few buttons undone and a collar parted that hinted at how much cleavage I would see when she turned around. I swallowed hard at the tight skirt formed to her hips, ending inches shy of her knees. The stiletto heels raised her calf muscles into sensual curves.

Suddenly, I began to suspect I was being seduced. And I did not mind it in the slightest.

“What is it, my son?” she asked, her voice soft and smooth as silk.

My skin prickled. I studied her, regarding the red hair cascading down her shoulders, and fought the compulsion to follow the sight of her into decadent thoughts. “Nothing, Mistress,” I said, surprised at how subdued my voice proceeded forth from my lips. “Why?”

“You hesitated. I called you in here, didn’t I, Flynn?”

“Yes, you did.” I nodded as she turned her head to line me in her periphery. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to expect.”

Sabrina released her hold of the curtain, allowing it to fall closed while she faced me. The open blouse I fantasized about stared at me, presented forth as though meant to be a gift for my eyes. I shifted my gaze quickly, hoping she did not see where I had been looking while hoping she did at the same time. My blue eyes had nothing to hide behind now. They looked directly into her chocolate-colored irises and had I a pulse, it might have seized at the moment from the tension building in the air between us.

My mistress pretended she was unaware of it. “When I bid you to come,” she said, “You are to come. Are we clear on this matter?”

I nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” Sabrina nodded. She pointed toward one of her couches. “Sit. I wish to speak with you.”

Nodding once more, I walked almost precisely to the place where she directed and sat, settling back against the leather upholstery and listening to it creak underneath my weight. Sabrina sat across from me, her legs crossing and her arm raising to recline against the complimentary sofa that was at once so close, and yet, so far away. Her hand touched her lips, which pursed while she studied me. “Do you know why I called for you?” she asked.

I suppressed the urge to jerk at the collar of my shirt. “No, I don’t,” I said.

“You don’t?” The corner of her mouth curled upward. “You don’t even want to guess, my dear?”

Indulging in a deep, steadying breath, my mind traced across the events of the night prior. I scratched the back of my neck, engaging in an internal debate. Come clean or hold my cards close to my chest in the event she did not know what I had done? I relaxed in my seat more and permitted the ghost of a smile to surface. “I believe I know what this is about, but I’m not sure.”

“You believe you might know?” An eyebrow perked as her eyes locked onto mine, refusing to relent in their scrutiny. “Then enlighten me.”

“You heard about what happened last night?”

“Did something happen last night, Flynn?”

“Yes.” The ghost grin vanished, dissipating like smoke. Yet I held a steady gaze with Sabrina.

Sabrina nodded. “Assume I have no notion of this and tell me what happened.”

I nodded in turn and sighed. “I ran into three immortals from another coven,” I said. “We exchanged words and things ended… poorly… for them.”

“And what does that mean?” I could have sworn I saw the smile return to Sabrina’s face, but it may have been a hint of amusement present in her eyes and nothing more. Or simply my imagination. “Did you do something to them?”

“I was armed.” Dipping my toe into the pool, I created a ripple to see where it would lead.

Sabrina did not crack a smile, but did not cast a frown. “You were armed with a blade?”

“Several. Throwing knives.” Well, she did not need to know about the sword.

“Why were you armed?”

“Protection. Self defense.” I paused. “To become used to carrying my weapons around with me.”

Sabrina nodded. “And what did you do with these blades, Flynn?”

“I murdered two of the three.” Inching forward in my seat, I held up a hand to stop Sabrina before she could shoot furious words at me. “But only because they were insulting you. They called you terrible names, Mistress, and insulted me in the process. When they threatened me, I retaliated. And…” I hesitated, but only momentarily. The time had come to be truthful. “I don’t regret it. Not at all. I would do it again, in fact.”

“How did it feel?”

I furrowed my brow. “How did it feel to kill them?”

Sabrina nodded, but said no more. I looked away, my brow yet knitted and considered the question for a few seconds before my gaze returned to Sabrina’s and a sinister smile spread across my face. Her eyes glinted a recognition of this, almost reflecting evil as though a pool of water with me yet possessing a reflection. “I must confess,” I said, a tone inhabiting my speech that hearkened back to the first mortal I ever consumed. “I liked it.”

She perked an eyebrow at me, but her lips betrayed the gesture, curling into a grin with my mistress nodding and placing a finger across her mouth. My mind conjured wicked thoughts of her licking the digit in a sensual manner, double entendres flying between us until I took her into my arms and did the most erotic things to her. I swallowed hard. The thoughts seemed to be outside me and yet, I could not help but to succumb to their taunting. Her eyes melted into mine and although we both remained seated, I felt her presence overshadow me.

“I can tell,” Sabrina said. “I see it in your eyes. I have seen it in your eyes from the beginning, though. I still remember the first time you took that girl into your arms and finished her off. I knew I had a killer, Flynn. And a killer is what I see before me.”

I stared, attempting to discern what it was I felt; what it was I wished to say in response. “Thank you, Mistress,” I managed, “But I have only just begun this journey.”

“I know you have. And you desire more.” She nodded and stood, walking toward me while extending her hand. I placed my hand within hers and furrowed my brow while she smiled. “Come with me, dark son. I have something I would like to discuss with you.”

Standing, I nodded. “Where are we going?”

“To the balcony.” Her footsteps slow, her she walked me in the direction of two french doors. “You may want to put your glasses back on, lest the moonlight hurt your eyes.”

My free hand slid into my suit jacket, producing the dark spectacles again which I secured over my eyes before we reached the exit to her balcony. Sabrina relented her hold on me to open the doors and as they parted, a gust of cold air blew past us, touselling my hair and kicking hers up behind her like a cape taking flight. I stood in the threshold while she strolled to the railing and only when she turned to peer back at me did I assume a place beside where she stood. Her gaze shifted to the distance and I looked in the same direction as well, losing myself in the sight of moonlight reflecting off the windows of a skyscraper.

“It’s a rather interesting city, isn’t it?” she asked. “I’ve been to Hong Kong and New York City – wreaked havoc in Los Angeles and Chicago – but none of those cities enamored me as much as this place has.”

I nodded, allowing my eyes to drink from the sight as though just as enthralled with it as Sabrina. “I haven’t traveled much,” I said. “Only from home to my aunt’s house and then to college. This is all I’ve known for the past decade.”

“And to think. . . you have forever to examine it all.” Sabrina shot me a smile, directing my attention back to her as an amiable grin touched the corners of my mouth. No sooner did I gaze at her, however, than did her grin dissipate, a frown taking its place while her eyes lifted toward the concrete jungle surrounding us again. She sighed. “I have many enemies,” she said. “You could live over a hundred years like Robin and not have my list, and I have only had thirty years in this place to develop such adversaries. They, in turn, have had thirty years to plot my demise.” She paused. “Jealousy amongst vampires and the heads of the seven covens are not immune to it themselves.”

I furrowed my brow. “I didn’t realize there was so much competition.”

Sabrina issued a sardonic laugh. “We are a lot like the mafia. Our peace with one another is always tentative and the slightest thing could snap our precarious coexistence. We maintain order only for the sake of common interests. No other reason.”

“Why don’t they like you?”

“They fear me.” A smile surfaced on her face again. “They know I did not come here to be some subjugated puppet on a string. I came to lead a coven and to protect the interests of my immortal children. They see me as a threat because they are too incompetent to manage their own affairs.”

I huffed a chuckle. “The three I encountered were definitely incompetent.”

Sabrina turned her head, her eyes meeting mine. “Were they truly?”

“Oh gods, yes.” I laughed again. “I only spared the third one because I didn’t think he was worth chasing after. I could have easily caught up with him and slit his throat.”

“Yet, you didn’t.” She paused. “Isn’t it strange how fate works sometimes, my dear Flynn? How it brings us into these impossible situations and leaves us with an entirely different future as a result?”

“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice coming out sounding small.

“Because you spared the one, he returned to his coven master and informed Matthew of what happened. My shadow in the night, you must not spare a one again, but this time, it was for a purpose. The name of Flynn has been spoken on the lips of an immortal quaking with fear. You have given them a reason to tremble.”

Our gaze remained fixed, one onto the other, with Sabrina looming over me again without stepping forward one pace. Rather, her eyes met mine and sank in deep, becoming two fangs plunging through flesh to imbibe the lifeblood contained therein. I felt a chill run up my spine, but confused warning with pleasure, allowing it to consume me. Our bodies drifted closer and Sabrina nodded as if to confirm we were locked in this death dance, mistress to fledgling.

“Your aptitude has proven your readiness,” she said. “I have seen it with my own eyes as you and Robin have sparred and heard it from the mouths of your instructors. But now I must hear it from you. Are you ready to be my assassin, Flynn?”

“Yes.” The one word drifted outward with ease. “I am.”

“They underestimate us both.” Sabrina’s hand touched my shoulder. It slid across my back as she circled around me and this time, I closed my eyes when another shudder assailed me. Her voice continued wafting into my ears; a wicked lullaby. “Matthew thinks you merely a neophyte in need of scolding, but you are so much more than that, are you not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“What are you, Flynn?”

“I am a killer. I am your assassin.”

“You live to serve your mistress, do you not?”

“Yes.” My fangs slipped from their slumber. Her body pressed against mine, her lips touching my neck as she leaned in close to me.

“And you desire me, do you not?”

“I do, Sabrina.” I exhaled a shaky breath.

“You have for some time.” I felt her tongue on my ear, caressing the lobe before she began to nibble on it. “Tell me,” she added. “Tell me what you desire.”

My hands gripped onto the railing, knuckles white from how tight I took hold of the metal. “I desire you, Sabrina. I want you more than I have wanted anything.”

“No truces,” she said. “No survivors. No mercy. Punish those I tell you to punish and I will reward you. Stain the streets red with the blood of my enemies and you will have all of those carnal desires you harbor. You are ready to be my killer and I will give you a taste of what your reward shall be.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Turn and claim what your loyalty has earned.”

Eyes opening, I felt drunk, pivoting to look at Sabrina with my lids lifted to mere slits. Enough to line her in my sight and see her looking at me, lust dripping from her gaze, her lips more of a temptation than I could resist. I captured them as though starved for sustinance. Sabrina thrust her body against mine in response and as she wrapped a leg around my waist, I consumed her in violent, passionate kisses, tasting nothing but poison and yet, craving each embrace with intense need. Sabrina grabbed hold of the lapels of my jacket and ground against me once.

Then she lowered her leg and threw me onto the balcony floor.

Jumping on top of me, Sabrina kissed me once more before pulling away. I craned my neck to capture her lips again, but she used the opportunity to plunge her fangs into my throat and send a howl of pleasure resonating into the air straight from my lips. At some point in the manic, tawdy episode which followed, my glasses were removed. I clenched my eyes shut, my remaining senses left to experience the thrill of having every unspoken desire consummated through Sabrina. Clothing was shed. Bites littered my body and my will found itself at Sabrina’s mercy, subject to her whims with the moaning, thrusting, and release that followed a precursor of things to come.

Oh yes, she had my loyalty. She had me wrapped around her finger and I was but a puppet on a string.

Later that evening, that sense of something changed carried with me while I hunted. As I took mortal life, it felt as though I had tasted the fruit from the tree and could not retreat now on a pact made with the devil. Not that I had any desire to; in fact, she could have ripped my soul from my body and cloaked me in eternal darkness and I would have begged for more. She smiled the wickedest smile at me when I returned to the coven house and I grinned at her in turn, now her co-conspirator. Her assassin. No other being on the planet held my affections so pointedly.

None other, with the exception of my brother Robin.

I returned to my room to find him standing by my door, leaning with his back against the wall as though he had been waiting all night for me to return. The vexed look remained a fixture, consuming him in the most visible manner possible. I hesitated for a moment, then marched forward with renewed confidence. “Robin?” I asked, my voice more cold than it had ever been to my brother. “What brings you here?”

Robin regarded me in silence until I stopped a few feet shy of him.”How did your talk with the Mistress go?” he asked. Robin did not flinch at my tone. His remained just as even as mine.

“Good.” I paused. “She agrees that I am ready to assume my responsibilities as her assassin.”

“Because you slaughtered two immortals in cold blood?”

“Because I defended her honor, dear brother.”

Robin nodded. His hands slipped into his pants’ pockets while his eyes shifted to the wall opposite him. “I see how little my opinion matters in this coven.”

“With all due respect,” I said, “I don’t think I need to be as coddled as you want me to be.”

“This has nothing to do with being coddled.” His gaze returned to mine. “Flynn, you think, with all of the wisdom of a one year old immortal, that you understand the way this world works when nothing could be further from the truth. I walked the streets of Kilkenny before cars occupied roads. I sailed on ships when flying machines were the things of fiction. I am much more worldy and experienced than you.”

I perked an eyebrow in defiance. “And you don’t think I’m ready for this? Even after I’ve proven I can hold my own in a fight?”

“This has nothing to do with holding your own in a fight and everything to do with the type of wisdom you lack.” His eyes flashed anger. His finger raised to point at me. “The Mistress may not give a care about this sort of thing, but I do. You are being thrown into a world of enemies without beginning to understand the ways of this world. You are being sent out there like sheep to the slaughter and not because you have no notion of weapons and fighting. We have already established that the student eclipsed the ability of his master far before this present reality. I hold no egotism. I admit my place as your inferior, but that is just it. You haven’t the foggiest notion of why things are the way they are.”

“And neither do I care to know!” I said, shouting back at him. I gritted my teeth, holding back the compulsion to bare fangs. “I am through with this cloak and dagger bullshit.”

“Lang…”

“Fuck off, Robin.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I think you’re jealous and are being spiteful because of it. I have proven and will prove myself. If I need a tutor at this point, it’s trial and error.”

Robin nodded. “Very well.” The words spoken softly, the subsequent statement was issued with harshness as a stark contrast. “Since you have no further use for me, I shall find some place in this coven where I am needed.”

He stood straight and began a brisk stride away. A frown surfaced in a flash moment of clarity, long enough for me to say, “Wait,” to him without moving to follow.

Robin stopped. His back remained to me, but his head turned to line me in his perephery. “What is it, Flynn?”

“I never said I didn’t have any use for you.” My statement was enough to coax him toward facing me fully. He stared, but did not speak, so I continued. “You are the only one in this coven who teaches me anything. I am going to need help, I just don’t want to be treated like an infant.”

For a moment, we regarded one another in silence. Until Robin nodded. “I will not leave you destitute,” he said, “But you are to understand this.” A pause punctuated his words. His stare became severe. “You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions from this point forth, Flynn. You chose this path. Now it is your burden, not mine.”

“I never asked it to be yours in the first place.”

“Indeed.” Robin issued a short nod. “Now, sleep well this morning, dear brother. Savor every moment of it. Because I promise you, it is the last restful sleep you will enjoy.”

He turned again and this time, I did nothing to stop him as he made his way to the end of the corridor and turned for the stairs. Instead, I remained standing in the same place, puzzling over his warning for a few seconds before shrugging it off and entering my room. Once inside, I closed the door and removed my sunglasses, sighing from relief over the darkness which wrapped itself around me like a cocoon. I leaned against my door. A sadistic smile spread across my face. I did intend to enjoy resting that night, but planned to do so every night from that point forth, regardless of what Robin had to say.

My dreams were not to be so accommodating, though, and Robin’s warning not to be the final word. As I laid in bed, I tossed and turned while the vision of a white room materialized in my subconscious and the chill of dread settled into my bones, so much like the dream I had weathered a mere two mornings ago when I destroyed my old apartment. No familiar furnishings surrounded me this time as I opened my eyes to behold the sterile, vacant place where my dreaming form found itself standing. I spun around to survey my immediate area.

That was when I saw her.

Standing across from me inside the void, holding one of my swords, the ghost of Lydia regarded me with far more disdain than even Robin had. On her chest were bloodstains, crimson-colored patches on clothing hiding the wound I inflicted when I shoved the butcher knife into her body. She lifted her chin, sizing me up. “I’ve been watching you,” she said. “My eyes haven’t left you even though I haven’t said anything to you recently.”

The sight of her brought loathe to the surface like bile rising to burn the back of my throat. I sneered. “Well, well, well… how fortunate does that make me? To have an audience?” I raised my arms to my sides and bowed. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the show, Pet. Especially the night before last.” Standing straight, I adjusted my suit jacket, a snide grin surfacing on my face. “That was for you. I thought if you wanted to fuck with me that turnabout was fair play. Lovely touch, placing me inside my old apartment, by the way. Especially with those pictures of you and my parents.”

Lydia held an even gaze. “You speak just like a demon.”

“I am a demon, mortal. You’ll do well to remember that and leave me alone from now on.”

“You used to heal, Peter.” She shook her head, lifting up the sword as she spoke. “Now, you kill. You’ve been given unspeakable gifts and you’re wasting them.”

“So wrapped up in the past. Allow me to help you with that.” I strode toward her. Lydia did not move and relented her hold on the sword, shocked as I grabbed it from her hands and impaled her with it in one swift motion. Holding her close, I spat venom as I filled her ear with the harshest whisper my lips ever produced. “Hear me now, you adulterous bitch, Peter is dead. He no longer owns this body and neither do you. I suggest you enjoy your afterlife and leave mine alone, or more people will die. Each time I sense your shiver or see your ghost, I will murder like a tyrant until you relent. Are… we… clear on this?”

“You have no idea,” Lydia said, a pained grin on her face as her eyes returned my look of severity tenfold. “You don’t see it yet, but you will. When we come back to finally deal with you.”

“Lovely, do be sure to drop in any time.” I twisted the sword. “So I can continue doing this to you.” As I pulled back to stare into her eyes, I did not expect her hands to raise, but they grabbed me by my jacket and pulled me even closer, noses a hair’s breadth from touching while she shook her head at me.

Her green eyes appeared almost ethereral. Her tone became sharp; stern. “You can’t outrun your destiny,” she said, pausing to cough before continuing to speak. “It’s looking for you and it will find you… when you least… expect it…”

Lydia’s grip on me relented. Her body slid from the blade as gravity worked its wiles on her corpse and forced her body to fall limp at my feet. I watched her crumple to the floor, an inner voice attempting to speak; a dying flame staring down at her and wanting to ignite again while failing miserably in its task. The ember surrendered its life in a puff of smoke. Within a few seconds, it was no more.

I flicked her blood from the blade and strode off into nothing, satisfied with myself, thinking now this would be the end of my entanglement with the shadows of my past. Her threats held no merit and did nothing to sober me as had been Lydia’s intent. I saw nothing more than the last breaths of a dead woman and regarded it with far less concern than I did Robin’s words to me. When I woke, the evil consuming me yet thrived beneath my skin. I rose to greet the evening and plunder it once more.

A few days later, as I rummaged through my pants pockets, I found the necklace I ripped from Lydia’s throat shimmering inside, staring at me as though possessing the stern gaze of its former owner. I held it in my fingers for a matter of seconds before thrusting it back where I found it and making a detour to a pawn shop on my way to sate my bloodlust for the night. Only days afterward, I received orders for my first hit and the vicious glare in my eyes became a permanent fixture; a callous expression I wore that night and each night forth with every murder I executed.

My sword stayed by my side. My coat concealed the knives I kept always on my person. My senses were attuned; my will as cold as steel and as sharp as a blade honed by the most skilled craftsman. I became the hitman of the undead, death personified and a force with which to be reckoned. Over the next four years, I established the name of Flynn through my actions. All who stood against Sabrina feared the day when they would meet me face to face. I reveled in it. I thrived within its confines.

The adage remained as true to me, however, as it does to all who possess a special calling. Eternity does indeed catch up with you. And found me, it did, in the most unlikely of manners.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the middle of a room, uncertain of how I came to be there. Heavy wool coat atop my black suit, I was dressed as though I anticipated an outing, but I could not recall leaving the coven for this lifeless crypt no matter how hard I tried. I adjusted my sunglasses, focusing on my surroundings through a darkness that seemed impenetrable. Something rang familiar about it, though. I made out the presence of a lamp by my side and, as I switched it on, artificial light illuminated the area and recollection screamed in a volume louder than déjà vu.

My mortal living area. Fate transported me into my old apartment.

I perked an eyebrow. An immediate rush of memory swept past me, threatening to drown me in the undertow as the place I had not called home in a year appeared around me. A thin layer of dust rested on everything. Familiar pictures of familiar people hung on the walls and every piece of furniture remained undisturbed. That could not be right, though. Fingerprints littered the murder weapon that ushered Lydia Davies into the afterlife. Anything not nailed down should have been confiscated by the police.

Yet books still rested on tables. Old mail piled on a stand in the entryway. A refrigerator hummed in the kitchen; a light blinked on the answering machine. The red, pulsing beacon piqued my curiosity. I strolled toward it before I could stop myself and pressed play, listening as the tape rewound and settled into place before clicking.

A beep; a crackle. A moment’s hesitation. Then, a voice.

“Hey, Pete!” a boisterous, nasally voice declared in opening. The mental Rolodex settled on a face. An obese, middle-aged nurse named Chloe Poole. “Pat and the Indian Mafia say you’re late for your shift. Is everything alright? You haven’t seemed to be all there lately and 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 won’t be coming to work due to an acute case of vampirism,” I said. “Stupid fucking mortal.” Another beep punctuated the message. Another 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 an ancient heartstring and caused me a start. “Please listen to this message before you take another step forward. 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 stepped closer to the answering machine on instinct and 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. Its pitch became high through the filter of shed tears. I found myself swallowing hard; closing my eyes. Not affected, or so I attempted not to be. That part of me was dead. She killed it with her adultery. 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’ll 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’ve known who I am for some time now. How dare you attempt to meddle in my affairs?”

“You’ve lost what you are. A healer. Dr. Dawes, wake up. It’s not too late.”

“No!” I opened my eyes. My face contorted with rage. “Oh. no, no, no… No you don’t. I know what you’re up to and it’s not going to work. Do you hear me?! Not going to work!” In one, swift movement, I ripped the answering machine from the wall and threw it across the room. The cheap plastic splintered into a thousand pieces. The tape inside unwound partially as it remained attached to the player. My fangs slipped from their hiding place; I hissed at the remnants of the unwelcomed harbinger.

Two hands wrapped themselves around the small table where the answering machine once rested. I picked it up. It, too, splintered into pieces when I threw it against the wall. Wood rained down on the carpet; letters scattered from being displaced, but I stormed forward, eyes blazing fury, and continued to demolish the living room.

I tipped over the couch. 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 vampire hurricane until I reached the bedroom.

Memories wanted to surface. The one Lydia cited mere seconds ago 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. As though dismantling the final vestiges of my former life. As though 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 the bed. The fire licked at the bedclothes until it caught and a blaze began to spread outward across the sheets. Turning my back on the room, I adjusted my coat and began a brisk, purposeful stroll for the door. Stepping over fallen debris, I reached the entryway, but hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. I pivoted, lining up the pieces of answering machine in my sights, Lydia’s voice yet playing in my mind.

“Peter… .”

“Peter’s dead,” I muttered to the empty apartment. Destroyed; all of its fixtures uprooted by the immortal force of nature I had become. “My name is Flynn now, bitch. 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 still found my head steeped in something too palpable to be a mere dream. My body back at the coven, my mind still felt the sting of fury. I gritted my teeth and sat up in bed.

She wished to play hardball? Well, she was trifling with the wrong vampire.

I stood, infuriated. Destroying the apartment in my dreams not enough, I tasted blood on the tip of my tongue. There would be hell to pay if I had anything to say about it. I unbuttoned the shirt I fell asleep wearing and ripped my arms from the sleeves. Stripping my pants, I tossed my clothing onto a chair, then marched into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water scalded and my blood boiled all the more. How could one shake a ghost bent on being their conscience?

“Murder,” I muttered through the haze of steam. “The same bloody way she met her end before.” My fangs ached at the mere prospect of it. Death; I did not give one whit whether the mortal authorities whipped themselves up in a frenzy over a pile of bodies on the street. I would relish the hunt that night with a particular sadism I had not entertained prior. I gave little thought toward whether or not Robin or Sabrina would tie a bout of carnage to me.

I merely wished the adulterous wench silenced for good.

Plucking a fresh suit from my closet, I dressed quickly, hesitating 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 furvor. My dark side clamored within the confines of a self-made prison, though. What would happen if I released the monster for good; if I gave into those compulsions I held back?

A sinister smile spread across my face. The poison in my black soul released into my bloodstream again.

Before I could stop the action, I opened a trunk filled with other accessories and extracted a shoulder holster with slots designed to sheath daggers. Securing it around my arms, I adjusted it into place and reached for a set of matching throwing knives, plucking three from their display and sliding the cold steel into place. One final adjustment and they nestled close to my body, whispering decadent thoughts into my mind.

I placed my sunglasses over my eyes. I secured my favorite sword by my side, strapping it around my waist, and pulled a full-length wool coat out from my closet. Black, leather gloves slid over my hands. Spiky hair stood aloft in gelled, organized chaos. By the time I departed from my room, I knew I bled the word assassin and wanted the world to know that as well. Including a single set of eyes fixed upon me 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 vestibule. Wing-tipped shoes did not make a noise. I did not pause to engage anyone in either conversation or eye contact. I passed by the doorman with cool indifference and held back my final proclamation to Lydia until the night air nipped at my face with its brisk bite. “Look me in the cold, blue eyes and tell me you see Peter now.”

At once, I slipped into the shadows, just as I had been taught, the words of my mentor a sacred creed I was bent on both honoring and vandalizing. Being armed within the city makes you conspicuous. Do not make eye contact with anyone. Do not allow anybody to see you unless you wish them to. I almost muttered the words underneath my breath while following the scent of humanity and honing in on its tempting pulse.

Move swiftly. You are a vampire, after all.

Seek out higher ground for a better vantage point, but make no sound in doing so.

I jumped for a fire escape and pulled myself up. My shoes made a slight tap on the metal platform when I swung around the railing and landed on the other side. I bounded up each set of stairs with swift silence and leaped onto the roof of a five story building once at the top. The wind kicked around the ends of my coat and ripped through the strands of brown atop my head. The corner of my mouth curled upward in a devious smile; I jumped onto a ledge and extended my arms by my sides while closing my eyes, absorbing the wind and moonlight as though to steal its power.

‘Meet your new god,’ I thought as palms raised heavenward. ‘Bow to him and tremble.‘

A sound. My eyes opened and my head snapped in the direction of the noise. A man and a woman walking down the street, nearing a narrow passageway between two buildings. My grin broadened and my feet moved swiftly to intercept, dashing for one rooftop before leaping across the expanse and running for the opposite ledge. Climbing onto the precipice, I jumped and landed on the ground below, my knees buckling from the impact, but my body holding in a crouched position.

Slowly, I stood. Slowly, I reached 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 were prepared for what transpired. I grabbed the girl, wrapping my arm around her neck and pulling her into the shadows with me. Her significant other paused his steps at once, reacting to the startled yelp she issued before I cupped my free hand over her mouth. As he dashed into the passageway, he came to an abrupt stop when I raised the blade and pressed it against his neck. The mortal man’s eyes widened.

I chuckled. “Pleasant evening for a stroll, wouldn’t you say?”

He gasped and motioned to scream. I impaled his windpipe with the blade 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, about to salivate over her flesh. “You’ll get your turn, too.”

A final push thrust the blade past the mortal’s spinal column. He fell like a lifeless mannequin as I extracted my blade and flicked it to the side, splattering blood all over the wall of an adjacent building. The woman I held continued screaming and a sliver of moonlight caught the glisten of tears in her eyes. I chuckled. “Now, it’s just you and me. I like it so much better this way, don’t you?”

A tear rolled down her cheek and over my leather glove while I raised the knife close to her neck. Tears became sobs and sobs shifted into wails the moment the cold blade touched her skin, starting her to bleeding as well. I chuckled while she struggled, pressing the knife against her throat in a more forceful manner. “Now, now… Hold still, or I will just slit your jugular and make this senseless violence with no purpose. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She stopped, still weeping, but more compliant now. She shook her head in an emphatic manner. “Just relax,” I said, leaning close, my hot breath touching 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 lobbed to the side, two puncture wounds still weeping blood in rivulets. I licked the remnant and raised the 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 for the edge of my hiding place. I slid the blade back into its sheath, adjusted my coat, and emerged onto the 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 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 the blood from them, a foreign laughter rising from my throat that became more drunk with power the longer I indulged it. My eyes raised toward the heavens. I grinned the devil’s grin even after my laughter had subsided. “Is this registering loud and clear yet?” I yelled.

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 the murder of my previous victim. After this, I found another woman, whom I lulled into the by-and-by through a prick of my eyeteeth, my own thirst needing to be sated after witnessing so much blood spilled since my last meal. I tossed her lifeless body aside after cutting the side of her neck, but turned while wiping the blade only to discover three people staring at me.

Each of them pale, they parted lips to flash their identity through fangs. I smirked and slid my knife back into place. “Ah, familiars,” I said, adjusting my jacket 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 figure 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 laughed. “I’m sorry? What do I think I’m doing?” Glancing at the downed mortal, I looked to my new friend then and shrugged. “Looks like I just murdered a woman. What do you think you’re doing in asking me such an asinine question?”

“We were stalking this woman first. Has nobody taught you manners?”

“Many have tried. Few have succeeded.” I folded my arms across my chest. “All three of you were stalking her? Huh. That’s interesting. And were you all going to share her?”

He bristled. “That is none of your damn business.”

“You were?!” My laugh rose in volume. “Good God, what kind of coven produces such pitiful hunters?”

“We are of Matthew’s coven,” another said, stepping forward. Shorter than his compatriot, he possessed shoulder-length hair hanging free of constraint. “And you?”

My attention shifted to the other vampire. I bowed in a sweeping, gentlemanly fashion. “I am Flynn, of Sabrina’s coven. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

As I stood straight, the first vampire laughed. “Sabrina? No wonder he’s without manners, he has a wench for a mother.”

I furrowed my brow. “I beg your pardon?”

He smiled. “You heard me, neophyte.”

“First of all…” I held up a gloved hand, raising one finger. “… I told you what my name is and it isn’t ‘neophyte’. Understood? Secondly, what type of disrespectful bastard do you think you are, insulting the mistress of a coven like that?” I huffed a chuckle, arms lowering to my sides. “You know what? I think that’s what I’ll call you. Bastard. Since you lack the proper manners to even tell me your name.”

He made the mistake of baring fangs at me, as did his friends. The look in his eyes turned from indifference to malice and a growl preceded the words he spoke. “You have not earned the right to know my name, you piece of trash. And I will show you what we do to the trash that wanders into our territory.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Bring on the lesson.”

He hissed and stalked forward. My fangs slipped outward in response, my hand hovering over my stomach before sliding in a feather touch across my chest. The tall, long-haired immortal pounced for me, but I drew a knife before he could descend upon me and stepped back a pace just as he landed. Thrusting the blade through his chest, I sneered in his face. A look of shock enveloped his countenance. Within seconds the immortal standing before me became dust, which descended with uninhabited clothing onto the ground.

My eyes shot to the ashes of what used to be a vampire, my mouth agape. Never before had I either killed or seen an immortal killed and with this virginity now broken, I reflected on just how I felt about it. Most vampires I knew spoke of the death of our peers with disgust. I, myself, wondered if killing a familiar would be difficult when the time came. Instead of being repulsed, though, I found myself smiling and the devil must have been dancing in the shadow I cast, for when I looked up at the others, they both retreated one pace, then froze in position. Before me stood two male vampires, their skin a bit paler than it had been moments ago.

My focus settled on the shorter one with shoulder-length hair. My grin became more pronounced. Fate reduced him from vampire to experiment in mere seconds and he must have sensed it too, for he turned and began to run. I adjusted my hold on the knife’s hilt, then flicked it with the same focus I possessed while working with my instructors, yielding the same results. His back became a bullseye; his startled scream a death rattle. He fell to the ground, but transformed into ashes as well and I laughed as I regarded the last one standing.

He shook with fright and held up his hands, a man with short, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. I hissed and reached into my coat again, but he ran off to the side and disappeared into an adjoining alley before I could draw another knife. Rather than pursuing him, I flipped my hand in his general direction, my demeanor apathetic toward the coward. The death of the others more than expiated my fury. I retrieved my knife and stared at the pile of ashes I found it nestled in, wishing I could leave behind a calling card.

Lacking an appropriate homage, I started back for the coven without my desire sated.

That one would have to wait.

When I returned, I beheld my brethren with different eyes, knowing I had turned a corner from whence I could not retreat. The night changed me; I knew the demon I was capable of being with a newfound intimacy. A carrier of his disease, I could no longer deny this carnal need to kill. It would remain part and parcel of my soul from that night forth.

As I shut the door to my room and immersed myself in darkness, I removed my sunglasses and nodded to the silent jury of my weapons arsenal, bidding them all a good evening. I took each down and practiced with them, placing them back into position before moving on to the next. The night hastened into day; the shades protecting my windows began to lighten, provoking a yawn past my lips and spurring me toward slumber.

I stripped my suit and slid into a pair of black, pajama pants. Then I settled in for a day of unsettled rest.

***

The next evening, a knock at my door woke me, forcing me from the twisted choke hold of nightmares that lacked any form or substance to articulate. I trudged for the entryway, slipping on my glasses along the way. Not bothering to locate a shirt, I opted to greet whomever this was bare-chested, hoping that maybe it might be Rose, looking to ease my frazzled mind with a proper romp in the sheets. As I opened the door, however, I beheld something that did the exact opposite of soothe me. It jarred me all the more.

Robin stood before me, a serious expression on his face.

I furrowed my brow. “Is everything alright, dear brother?”

“Get dressed,” he said in a terse manner. “The Mistress wishes to see you.”

I nodded and watched him turn and walk away, shutting the door once he was was out of my line of sight and frowning at the darkness wrapping me in silence once again. The tenor of my older, more regal brother’s words hung heavy in the air, his displeasure more than evident. I showered and dressed as though preparing for my execution, my deeds of the night prior still a fresh taste in my mouth.

And perhaps a foul taste in Sabrina’s.

My gait to Sabrina’s penthouse lacked the confidence of the night prior and although I strolled past her tall, stocky bodyguard, Paul, with an indifferent air, in my mind, I was preparing for the worst tongue-lashing of my immortal existence. I opened the door as slow as possible. I slipped into the vestibule and indulged in several steadying breaths before working up the courage to call out toward her living area. “Mistress?” I said. “Did you call for me?”

A deliberate pause preceded the authoritative voice of she who gifted me immortality, the redheaded vampiress with a temper hidden underneath the veil of sensuality. “Hello, Flynn,” she said in a tone I could not interpret. “Come inside. I would like to have a word with you.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning

***

Chapter Six

My room became a different sort of refuge in the weeks which followed. What once was a prison for the conscience-laden became a haven for a sociopath, a proclivity creeping through my system like a slow poison releasing its toxin into my veins. The mortal inhibitions which kept my dark side held at bay gone, I rose each evening to find another temptation crawling up my spine, something which went from bad to worse the more I learned about the blade.

Twas a good thing Robin kept me too busy to indulge. The inevitable might have come to pass much sooner otherwise.

Oh, I still hunted. Robin demanded it. This time he accompanied me, though, and refused to leave me to my own recognizances. His constant presence irritated me a great deal at first. Where my brother had once been the mocker in the corner, he now became a taskmaster of a mentor. And his instruction did not end with sword skills and weapon handling.

Robin became determined to reinvent me altogether. My speech. My stalking. The art of luring and seduction. The Victorian bastard held nothing back and I, in turn, could not so much as spit without it going noticed. “Who the devil taught you how to hunt?” Robin asked one evening, his arms folded across his chest with his blue eyes observing me as I held a mortal in my arms. Her head tipped back, vacant eyes beheld the heavens while I drank from her violated jugular.

I raised my head, fangs still elongated and stained red. “Are you going to critique the way I hunt now?” I asked.

“You kill like an animal. This is not what I showed you on your first evening.”

“Your way takes too damn … .”

“Language, Flynn.”

I grumbled. “Fucking prude.”

It happened too fast for me to react. Robin closed the short distance between us and smacked the glasses off my face. Dropping the mortal, I raised my hands to cover my eyes and yelled as my victim’s body hit the ground. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“First of all, your reactions are too slow. You should have been able to move out of the way before I reached you. If you have a weakness, then you must be on guard for those who would expose that weakness at all times, be they friend or foe.”

Doubled over, I pressed my palms against my eyes while turning in the direction I heard the hard plastic land, desperate to prevent any beams of moonlight from raping my corneas until the last possible moment. I heard the sound, however, of Robin stepping forward one pace, followed by the sensation of one of my hands being pulled from my face and my glasses being slapped into my grip. I thrust the spectacles over my eyes and grumbled at Robin again. “You have a lot of f… .”

“And two… Watch. Your. Language.” He scowled at me when I met his gaze. “You sound uneducated and ignorant when you indulge this habit of yours. Now…” He glanced at the body lying on the ground before looking up at me again. “… Are you an animal or a vampire?”

I shut my eyes while raising a hand to rub at them. “Biting into the neck takes too long.”

“Takes too long? Did you learn nothing from that first day? You grow lazy and stupid and opt to produce bodies which which look like zoo animals were set loose out here, instead of learning to do it correctly.”

“Does it matter either way?”

Robin paced around me. “Yes, it does, in fact. For several reasons. Cleanliness, for one. Finesse, for another. This is much like your sword skills; you can raise the sword, but your blows lack discipline. This is what I am trying to teach you.” As I looked at him, I beheld the upturned eyebrow directed at me, a hint of the old Michael surfacing in his gaze. “Besides,” he said, “You were a doctor and have not heard of the carotid artery?”

“Of course I’ve heard of the fu… .”

“Language, Flynn.”

“…carotid artery.”

Robin nodded. “Then you should know what to do with those teeth of yours. I showed you, for the love of all things.” He huffed and leaned against a building in the side street where we stood. The breeze of an early spring evening blew past Robin, as though bent to tousle his hair while unable to ruffle even a strand. “Timothy taught you ill. He has a taste for the jugular. The man never possessed any aristocracy in his veins that he did not drink from a victim. Your teeth are long enough to nick the artery and drawing from it will force the blood flow through the wound.”

“Why does it matter, Robin?” I asked. “We are predators. Who cares how we do it?”

Robin looked at me, an even expression on his face. “I am teaching you the difference between a butcher and an assassin. If you wish to be an animal, suit yourself.”

I furrowed my brow while he walked away, giving chase the moment I saw he was being more than a scornful twit with me. He did not look at me, but continued speaking as though repeating a mantra. “An assassin has finesse. He leaves nothing in his wake but death. Everything is clean and done with precision. Patience should be demonstrated when patience is called for and expediency when that is in order. It translates into everything, Flynn. From the way you stalk, to the way you kill.”

I smirked, my eyes fixed on the city. “So, when do we get to the sword lessons?”

Robin rolled his eyes. “You are still an impossible nuisance, Flynn. Do not think any of this has changed my sentiment on the matter.”

“You’re too old to know the definition of the word ‘change,’ let alone how to do it.”

His jaw clenched, Robin answered with silence and I continued to smirk in the same cocky manner. My arrogance was short-lived, however. Robin savored a cup filled with schadenfreude the moment my weapons instruction commenced.

An open room used for meetings between Sabrina and the other vampire elders of our area facilitated our sparring sessions. On the first night, Robin stood halfway across the room, nothing more than tiled floor between us with all tables and chairs removed from the immediate vicinity. Suit jackets stripped and sleeves rolled up, we held the blades Robin insisted we use. Two European swords; light, straight, and sturdy.

“Bring me to my knees again,” he said, poisied for attack. Yet, he did not move.

Both hands wrapped around the hilt of my weapon, I leaped for him and swung the blade just as I had the night I bested him. This time, however, Robin ducked and shifted to the side. My swipe cut through nothing but air. My landing left me vulnerable.

I felt a sharp blade slice across my shoulder. Turning, I hissed at Robin. He smirked at me and rotated his wrist to swing his sword around in an idle form of mockery. “What the hell?!” I shouted, freeing one hand to clutch my shoulder.

“You are lucky I’m not nearly so incensed tonight, dear brother,” Robin said. He smirked. “I could have had you impaled through your back.”

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the sword’s hilt with both hands and made another aggravated pass for him. Robin remained still, not bothering to motion one way or the other. He kept his sword lowered to his side with only one hand clutching it. The nonchalant posture infuriated me and as I swung the sword again, I aimed for his neck, too angry to care one whit over his demise. Robin perked an eyebrow at me, but dropped to his knees, arching his back. My blade sailed past, not connecting with anything.

The resultant momentum spun me around on my heels until I went from charging away to facing my brother. In that millisecond, though, the tip of Robin’s sword pressed against my trachea, Robin still on his knees, but rising to his feet while his eyes remained set upon mine in a deliberate manner. I felt the tepid blood beneath my skin seep down my throat. “Death blow number two,” Robin said. “Care to make it a third, or have we learned our lesson yet?”

“What fucking lesson?”

Robin pressed the sword against my throat again. More blood trickled from the aggravated wound. I yelled, startled, wondering if he did intend to have my head after all. “I swear by The Fates and heaven above, I shall now start bleeding you a pint for every crass euphemism you employ,” Robin said. “Now, as for what lesson; the very lesson I have been trying to teach you for days now.”

“Yeah, yeah, finesse. Assassin. I get it.” I growled. “Please lower the sword. That hurts.”

He did as I requested, but held the sword in hand with elbow bent, as though not trusting me to hold back a cheap shot. “Precisely, but there is another lesson latent in this whole exhibition as well, Flynn.”

I touched the weeping cut on my neck, glancing at the crimson staining my fingertips for a brief moment before my eyes raised toward Robin’s again. “And what lesson is that?” I asked. I issued the question in a subdued manner. Infuriated, but far more frustrated with myself than Robin’s attack itself. He sent me crashing from my ivory tower back onto the ground in two blows. Perhaps I was not the prodigy Sabrina boasted of before.

The smug expression on my older, more regal brother’s face evened, the half smirk fading into a frown. I thought I caught a flash of sympathy surface in his gaze, but it, too, smoothed itself out as though an unintended wrinkle in his otherwise polished appearance. “Respect,” he said simply.

My brow knitted at the one-word response. “What do you mean, respect?”

“You lack it. To your downfall.” He shook his head. “You claim I have been your antagonist from the start. I confess, when I first had to carry your unconscious body from that street into our coven, I decided you were a mistake and have acted accordingly. I might have been swayed otherwise, though, if not for your attitude with me.”

“I don’t understand. What attitude?”

“Never once have I detected an ounce of respect from you.” His frown becoming a scowl, I still did not sense absolute disdain in it. Not like before. The man was bent to level with me and for once, he had my attention. “Not when I attempted to teach you your initial lessons. Not from any subsequent time we passed one another in the halls. Had you not been an antisocial miscreant, I might have expected to see you snickering with the others behind my back. I may have made my disgust of you apparent, but you have done the same in spades.”

The scowl relaxed. I lowered my hand from my throat, wiping the blood-stained digits against the fabric of my pants. “You probably think this is how I’ve always been,” I said. “Rude and stubborn. Moody. I admit, I’m not the boy scout I once was, but I’m not a ‘Neanderthal’ either, as you put it the other night.”

“And you think me nothing but pretentious.”

“You definitely act that way sometimes.”

“And you the same, but now we have something more than our petty differences to focus on.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Wish to learn how to do this all the proper way? Then assent me a modicum of respect. I have been alive over a century longer than you have, dear brother.”

He and I stared at each other, locked within a silent stalemate with neither of us breaking eye contact. I nodded after what seemed like minutes. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll listen to you. But you should respect me a bit, too. I don’t know what happened in here before I came or why you think I was that big of a mistake, but it’s not fair to take it out on me. The least you could do is tell me why you hate me so much.”

Robin shook his head. His eyes drifted toward the other side of the room. “I do not hate you,” he said. “And perhaps someday I will explain these things to you. But, for now, I made a promise and you accepted a commission.” He turned his head to regard me once more. “You wish to please our mistress, do you not?”

The words shot a tingle up my spine, inspiring immediate agreement from my lips. Yet, it also brought to mind the other notion nagging at me just as much as Sabrina’s wiles did. “I want to know what I am. Everyone else seems to.”

“You are a killer. A vampire. Now, raise your sword.” Robin nodded. “And allow me to show you what you were doing wrong.”

Sliding my shirt sleeve across my neck to wipe away the blood, I nodded and raised my weapon, taking hold of the hilt with both hands. Robin did not engage me. Rather, he walked around behind me, hands placed on my shoulders, adjusting my posture and stance. He bid me deliver a blow into the air afterward and corrected my failed attempt, stepping back to watch as I attempted once more. I glanced at him while he placed his sword down in favor of folding his arms across his chest. “Again,” he said.

I nodded again in response and complied.

***

Weeks of this persisted. Days lengthened and nights shortened while the weather turned from chilly to sweltering within the confines of our urban estate. Robin remained my shadow throughout the better part of the months that followed, first instructing, then overseeing when I began to eclipse his own ability. It happened much sooner than he anticipated; than either of us anticipated, for that matter. The level of skill and composure I achieved by summer’s end could not be denied, though. A mortal familiar from Japan flew in by the beginning of autumn and the blade I first came to admire found its way into my hands again.

The skill of a surgeon. The focus of a far more patient man than I ever was before. That being hinted at by Sabrina started to fill my shoes and embodied my tailored suits. A vampire’s vampire, the toxin reaching its height of concentration within the chill that settled in my veins by the time the winter months wrapped Philadelphia inside a cold blanket of frost and snow. I recall sparring with Robin one night, brother to brother, as became common practice between us. Throughout the course of my instruction, we went from enemies to friends and the tenor of our sessions changed as a result.

Still stubborn and set in his ways, Robin held his European styled sword in hand while I whipped the curved blade of my katana from side to side. My sleeves rolled up, I stalked Robin as I had been taught, throwing occasional strikes without warning and anticipating the blows he issued in return. We conversed as this continued. “I’m growing bored,” I said, taking hold of the sword’s hilt with both hands. I thrust it at Robin while he parried and used his blade to deflect my shot.

“Define bored, dear brother,” he said.

“Tired. Listless. My lessons are redundant.” I raised my blade to intersect a counterstrike from Robin. “When do you think Sabrina will finally give me something to do with all this?”

“You mean an assignment?”

“Yes, an assignment.”

Robin frowned. We engaged each other in several back-and-forth exchanges before he responded. “Flynn, I would not hurry things. When we finally set you loose, you will have a target affixed to your back. You do not shed the blood of an immortal without there being consequences.”

“I can handle it.” I threw another strike his way. “I think I’ve proven my ability. My instructors have just about packed up shop and gone home.”

“You mean you have mastered everything?”

“Everything. Every bloody thing.”

Robin sighed. We crossed blades once more. “I still dislike it when you swear. Regardless of what English dialect you utilize in doing it.”

“Be thankful I stopped saying the other words in front of you.” Steel caressing steel, I halted Robin’s blade and held it in place, my eyes shifting from our swords to his eyes. “You’re ignoring me.”

“I dislike that you do it at all, and no, I am not.” Robin stared me in the eyes for a few seconds longer before lowering his sword. I did the same. “Have you practiced with the knives?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes, both close combat and throwing them.”

“And what is your current level of aptitude?”

I sighed, freeing one hand to scratch the back of my neck. “The same level as my sword skills. The same level as everything else. I stalk and take prey like a shadow. Nobody sees me whom I do not want to. Everything you taught me.”

Robin drew in a deep breath, exhaling it slowly as he regarded me. “Brother, you have done well,” Robin said with a nod. “You have done very well. I simply worry about a neophyte being exposed to the sort of danger you will be exposed to. I never thought you would take so quickly to your lessons. I counted on this taking years, not months.”

“I’ve done everything asked of me,” I said, frowning. “You’ve commended me to Sabrina several times.”

“I know. And I underestimated just how much your… nature… would factor into how fast you became proficient.”

I raised an eyebrow and adjusted my sunglasses. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Robin hesitated. He studied me, his mouth open as though willing something past his lips which was difficult to say. Just as it seemed actual noise would follow, the sound of stiletto heels clicking against the tile floor redirected our attention toward the source. I smirked at her the moment her brown eyes settled on me. “Good evening, fair Sabrina,” I said, turning my back on Robin for the time being in favor of meeting her halfway across the room.

Stunning as always, the black suit she wore clung to all of the correct curves. Each time I saw her, Sabrina called to me like a siren and I found myself helpless to resist. What started as touches on my face and through my hair became seductive brushes of her body against mine. Her fingers sliding across my shoulders; her lips almost nibbling at my ear. As my training started to fashion this assassin she dreamed of, I became more and more the item of interest to her. That night was no exception.

Sabrina’s gaze wriggled into mine, despite the dark lenses protecting my eyes. If seduction could be made corporeal, it would have been tendrils of smoke lacing around my body, wrapping around me like an anaconda seeking nourishment, strangling first before consuming. I died willingly within such an embrace. “Hello, my devilish assassin,” she said, her smile possessing the slightest hint of fangs. “How are you tonight?”

How much I longed for those teeth to find their way into my body the same way Rose’s did each time we slept together. The vixen before my eyes could not be equated to the coven harlot, though. “I’m well, Mistress.” Bowing at the waist, my eyes remained set on her. “And you?”

She reached out as I stood, hands touching the collar of my shirt and tracing their way down to play with the top button. “The night belongs to its predators, right?” Her eyes shifted from her finger’s play to my gaze. “I am doing well, too, my dear. I heard you two were sparring and thought I would check on my prodigy.”

A half-smile blossomed its way onto my face. Yet my eyes fell partially closed; a bit intoxicated. I felt her hand slide across my chest and struggled with mental images of taking hold of Sabrina and doing the wickedest things with her body. “Your dark son lives to serve you,” I said.

“I know he does.” Sabrina’s head fell to her side, exposing the pale skin of her neck. “You are eager for a kill, aren’t you, Flynn?”

“I am.” I motioned forward before I could stop myself. My lips touched her cool flesh in a feather kiss before pulling away. “What good is knowing all of this without having some use for it, after all?”

“Soon.” Sabrina met my eyes with hers as I stood straight again and winked at me. Her hands left a burning impression where they had been when she lifted them. I became aware of Robin’s presence again in the room when she turned to regard him. “How is he progressing, mentor?”

I pivoted to align Robin in my sights, catching a look exchanged between him and Sabrina that read of a thousand things, with none of them vocalized. Robin’s words hardly seemed a summary of any thought I saw in his eyes, but he spoke them just the same. “Remarkably well, Mistress,” he said, his tone chilled without being frigid. “Prodigy does not begin to summarize it. We should have expected as such, though.”

“Yes, quite.” She raised an eyebrow. Her eyes shot venom at Robin before returning to me. At once, flames of wrath settled into soft lights when her gaze met mine. I noted the change with passing interest, lost inside her seductive stare once more as though a switch engaged inside my psyche. “Is he ready yet, then?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Robin and I spoke at the same time – I affirming and he stating the negative – which jarred me enough from the trance I fell under to turn and look at him. “Brother?” I asked, furrowing my brow.

He stared at me, rather than looking at Sabrina. “You are too young for this,” he said. “There are lessons only time can teach that exceed sword skills and knife proficiency.”

“I can handle them,” I said, frowning. I looked back at Sabrina as though pleading between two parents. “I don’t understand what I still have to learn.”

Sabrina looked at Robin, brow knitted. “What lessons does he have need of learning?” she asked.

Robin sighed. “Self-preservation. He minds his own, but he needs to do more than slip through shadows with proficiency. He must be prepared for all ends and everything to possibly go wrong.” His eyes finally settled on Sabrina. “You know what setting him loose will do. The moment somebody hears the name Flynn, he will become a public enemy. In more manners than one.”

“I thought we came to an agreement on this several months ago, when it all started,” Sabrina said.

“Yes, we did.” Robin’s eyes shifted back at me. “And the concerns I have now are ones I didn’t have before. I did tell you some things might arise along the way.”

“What else?” One of Sabrina’s hands settled on her hip as she shifted her weight onto the opposite foot. “If that is your only concern, then we shall let the other six covens know that touching him means war.”

“That is not as easy as you think it is, and you know it, Sabrina.” Gone were formalities. Robin stared Sabrina down as a peer. “There are other things as well.”

“Such as…?”

“Such as his mental state. I have been careful not to indulge his bloodlust nearly as much as he would like.” I caught a quick shift of his eyes from Sabrina to me and back again. “He needs time to settle into immortality.”

“I am settled,” I said, interjecting.

“Dear brother, you do not know the half of it,” Robin said, frowning. “You… .”

“That is enough.” Sabrina broke through our impromptu debate. We both looked at her as she sized each of us up. “I believe I am still the mistress in this coven, am I not?”

Robin muttered something in a foreign tongue, dropping his sword onto the ground in favor of walking off toward where his suit jacket laid. Sabrina scowled. Proverbial steam rose from her head, threatening to reignite the flames of wrath and consume Robin whole. “Ne tournes pas le dos à moi,” she said, answering Robin back in the language he spoke in hushed tones.

“Pourquoi? Tu as décidé déjà.” Robin slid his arms through his suit jacket, then looked at me. “I will leave you to decide this with the Mistress,” he said. “You are her child, not mine. Please know I do not doubt your aptitude, Flynn. There are only things about your mental preparedness which have me concerned. I would like to see you mature as a vampire first. It would put my mind much more at ease.” Nodding, Robin looked away, hurrying toward the exit. Leaving Sabrina and I the sight of his back and ponytail hanging down past his shoulders as his parting statement. I furrowed my brow at the display.

It lingered with me for the remainder of the evening.

Sighing, I entered my room again after indulging in a quick hunt, my need for blood sated as the dawn sky threatened to intrude upon the matters of immortals. The air outside growing colder by the day, I sensed one year as a vampire coming to a close and wondered just how many Robin thought I needed to weather. Five? Ten? A hundred, as he had? I shut my door with a bit more force than normal and leaned against it, arms crossing my chest while my eyes took stock of the room surrounding me.

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. Everything Asian and all types of tools short of rifles, guns, and bullets. Had I been commissioned to be an assassin of men, those weapons might have had more worth, but I knew from the start what my targets would be. I would be killing other immortals. “A target fixed upon my back,” I said, revisiting Robin’s words.

I could handle it. I knew I could.

While I understood my brother’s concern, I also had a healthy sense of egotism throbbing through my veins as I plucked one of the swords off the wall. Swinging it around as others taught me, I revisited words of praise bestowed upon me. I was born for this. I was a natural. Whipping the blade around only seemed to verify 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. Something shimmered from within. I found myself plucking it from inside and lifting it up before I could stop myself.

The necklace I ripped from Lydia as I murdered her lay 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 was evident in the killer instinct I possessed. Even as the sainted doctor, I slayed that which I loved with such precision, it would have made the surgeons I once brushed shoulders with envious. What would it take to demonstrate to Robin that I could handle the responsibility of being an assassin?

Clutching the necklace in hand, I thrust it into my pocket, not entirely certain why I did such a thing except to keep a trophy close to my person. Something that proved even the hypocrite doctor was a murderer. 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 who refused to surrender her mission to redeem my soul.

The ghost of Lydia Davies returned with a vengeance to haunt me.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning

I lower my hands from the keyboard the moment I hear him. He starts as a shiver up my spine, but then becomes a voice and the voice echoes only to gain strength the longer it reverberates. I shut my eyes and lean back in my chair, rolling my head around once, slowly, as though attempting to work out a kink in my shoulders.

My failure to respond does not deter him.

“We go through this every evening,” he says. “Every evening I ask you the same questions and you offer the same responses. Back and forth until you relent. Wouldn’t you like to be spared the argument tonight?”

“I would like it,” I finally say, “If you would leave me the hell alone.”

“I am afraid that is not possible.” Two hands rest on my shoulders. Psychosomatic? Heaven only knows. “You and I go back too far for me to simply leave you be.”

“I do not have to listen.”

“Oh yes, yes you do. You see, Peter, you have nowhere to run and never have. You never will. I was there the first moment you tasted blood and have been there ever since. Speaking of which…” He leans closer. His breath hits my ear, teasing it with its warmth. “Aren’t you feeling a trifle peckish tonight?”

I jump and slide my chair out, uncertain if apparitions can be knocked off balance, wishing they could as I come to my feet. As I spin around, I expect to see him there, staring at me with those emerald-green eyes which resemble mine far too well. Nobody stands behind me, though. I should have known better than to expect to see him standing there.

Especially when I feel his fingers slide from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

I shiver.again. He chuckles as my lids drift shut once more. “Where exactly are you going to go?” he asks. “Run? I dare you. Come now, and try to escape me, but you know damn well you cannot. I thought we had an agreement. You and I, one at last. Isn’t that what we agreed?”

“I do not want to do this,” I mutter.

“Oh yes, you do. Do not kid a kidder, sir, you wish to do this and more. This is why we have this discussion. You know what you are and you know what I am. You know this voice that speaks into your ear is only speaking the innermost desires of your heart. I love the same as you. I loathe the same as well. We hold the same things captive and the same things in esteem, only I take it one step further and I confess those dark things you are not willing to confess.”

“Stop it right now, F – …”

“You stop it. Quit trying to give me a name. We both know how useless that was. You would shudder at night anyway, feeling those urges intrude on you, calling into your ear much the same as I am speaking to you right now. Don’t deny it. Cease trying to form a dichotomy again.” He stops talking, but does not step away. Instead it seems he grows closer. He looms larger. He overshadows me and that decadent craving he alluded to starts making its presence known within me.

I groan against it, but find myself waging a losing battle. He knows it, too.

“What do you want, Peter?” he whispers.

“Blood,” I say. The word runs from my lips and down my chin in rivulets of crimson. I think of that one vice I cannot live without and it infects my thoughts much the same as it does every night. I need it. I crave it. I cannot live without it. “I want blood.”

He smiles. I do not have to see it to feel its sadistic warmth radiate on me. “Is that all?” he asks.

I swallow hard. Why does my throat suddenly feel so dry? “No.”

“What else?”

“Fear.” I smile despite myself. A sinister grin. “I want them to be afraid.”

“Of what?”

I lose control of my tongue as it continues spilling out the darkness inside my soul. “Of me. I want to make them shudder. Make them quake. I want them to look me in the eyes and see their worst nightmare come to life. Sharp teeth exposed and murder in my eyes. I feed from it. I crave it. I need them all to be afraid.”

“Yes, and that they should be. They do not know what they trifle with, yes?”

“The devil.”

“The devil come for their souls.” I close my eyes. He circles around me; I see an image in my mind of him pacing around me in a thoughtful repose, as though sizing up his protégé. “Come for whose souls now, dark assassin? Tell me. Tell yourself. Their fear tastes that much sweeter, does it not?”

I nod despite myself. “Yes, it does. We come for the killers. The wicked in disguise. I want to punish them.”

“Punish them for what?”

“For all their evil deeds.”

“Yes. To hear them scream. To feel their terror rage through you like a thousand volts of pleasure as you pierce their skin and sink your teeth into their neck.” A pause. The hair on the back of my neck stands aloft. My skin prickles. “Now tell me, evil angel … What are you?”

My voice becomes a whisper. “I am a vampire.”

“What are you?” The question fired in a rapid manner.

I answer just as quickly. “A killer.”

He delivers the final blow. “And who am I?”

I open my eyes and think it. My lips speak the truth, no longer able to deny it. “You are me,” I say, and in that moment, my darkness ceases to be a separate entity. Poison in my veins again; I take a deep, steadying breath and sense the night calling to me, the pulse of humanity beating with a siren song that lures me out onto the patio and forces my eyes to focus on the city before me. My ears tune themselves to the sinners of the metropolis. My senses catch their scent and the taste already drips liquid temptation past the pointed teeth and onto the tip of my tongue. I have this fight with myself every night; with the darker side to my immortal psyche.

But he’s right. I’m right. The hunger always wins in the end.

Not even one year into life as an immortal and the end already seemed nigh. A blade to my throat and a vampire standing before me who eclipsed my years by over a century, I sneered in defiance, but did so to my peril. No more than a few minutes prior, I had no hope in the world of wriggling out of this dilemma.

But then, a foreign temptation whispered in my ear.

It happened when my eyes caught sight of the armory and, as if to accentuate the importance of the moment, time itself stood still and afforded me the chance to study Sabrina’s weapons. The same sentiment that came over me while admiring the Japanese swords in the parlor resurfaced, as though a force outside myself was directing my next steps. I did not have the foggiest idea how to wield anything besides a scalpel, but I knew I needed to get to the blades on the wall.

If I could ever get off my knees.

Looking at Michael, I held a firm and steady gaze with him as time resumed its normal course. “What are you waiting for?” I asked, indulging in a dangerous smirk.

He pressed the blade tip against my larynx, causing me to wince. I closed my eyes. The sword did little more than create a superficial cut, but Michael’s case was stated. “Beg me, neophyte,” he spat. I opened my eyes once more. “What cause does a useless waste of space like you have to exist?”

“You can’t do it.” I spoke the words although the weapon pierced my flesh, causing a thin rivulet of blood to run downward and suggest otherwise.

Michael scowled, fangs elongated. “I’ll make you suffer first if you continue taunting me.”

“You can’t do it,” I continued, “because if you could, then you would’ve already.”

“Do not try my patience.”

“What do you want from me?” I scoffed. “I’m not going to beg you for shit. You know why? Because you mock and you bark like the big dog trying to piss on his territory to mark it. You throw around your weight like you own the place without showing any respect in return.”

“I have no cause to respect you.” Michael’s hands began to tremor, his voice descending even further into a snarl. “You’re nothing more than a nuisance. Her new little pet that I’m expected to coddle and train when he has been nothing but a disgrace to the word immortal.” When he paused, I saw reason slip like rocks into the ocean. The death blow loomed imminent. “Now, I’ll end you like I should have when you were just a pitiful mortal.”

Michael reared back, but a voice called through the crowd assembled by the broken door. “Michael!” Sabrina yelled, and it was more than enough. He hesitated. My instincts seized the moment and both hands captured the blade. I threw it to the side, knocked Michael off-balance, and leaped to my feet at last.

Michael hissed when he turned back to me. Sabrina clamored to break through the crowd while I ran for the blades, feeling Michael pursue me all the way. While the weapons in the parlor were intended for show, these swords were no display pieces. A Japanese-styled one found its way into my hands with sheath flying to the ground in an instant. I swung an untrained blow out of instinct as I whipped around to face Michael.

Our blades connected, saving my neck from a fatal strike.

My eyes widened, both hands wrapped around the katana’s hilt. Michael moved to strike in another violent arc. I raised my blade and blocked another blow, but could not counter Michael’s finesse. He parried and thrust and sliced my arm as I attempted to dodge.

Fangs elongated, I hissed and responded with a strike.

He twisted his sword downward, deflecting my shot. Our blades caressed for a split second before he threw me back and sent me to the ground. I hit the floor. He drove his weapon toward my stomach. I rolled and raised my sword when he struck again. Michael gritted his teeth, hesitating only for a second, with his brow furrowed at me, our swords touching.

This time, I took the offensive. I pushed his blade away and rolled again.

Coming to my feet, I swung as he did and together, we filled the room with the harsh sound of metal clanging. The awkward blows I threw somehow met his, which brought a look of confusion back to the forefront of Michael’s eyes. Metal struck metal again. Michael whipped his sword upward and immortal reflexes saved me as I avoided the tip of his blade. I could not keep this up forever, though. The sight of blood staining my shirt invaded my periphery with the reminder I would not outlast my brother in my hunger.

“What do you want from me?” I asked. Our swords intersected again. “To die? To go away? Tell me what the hell you’re really upset about because, damn it, you’ve had it out for me from day one.”

“You aren’t supposed to exist,” Michael said through gritted teeth.

I backed away. Michael stalked forward. Both swords poised in anticipation of another strike, neither of us moved. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you are a mistake. You want a name? I’ll give you one.” Michael’s eyes shifted to the side, glancing at someone standing nearby. I did not see whom. “I think you should call yourself Flynn.”

“Flynn, eh?” I smirked in defiance of the veiled insult. “I like that. But if I get you to your knees with my sword about to give you a tracheotomy, then I think I deserve the right to name you back.”

“Name me what?”

“Robin.” I paused to regard Michael. “Seems like a good name for such a pompous prick.”

“So be it then,” Michael said. I watched his rigid posture relax a bit, his mouth opening to issue more condescending banter. He began to say, “I’ll not give you the chance to anyway,” but his drop in guard worked to my favor.

I was already moving with the first word.

Ignoring it all – the dizziness, the hunger, the anger – I summoned a form of focus I had never experienced before. The movements played out in my mind before they even commenced. I leaped for Michael and swung my sword to the side in a confluence of instinct and vampire prowess. No sooner had he spoken than I landed before him and knocked his weapon from his hands. The attack set Michael aback. Too stupefied to respond, he could not block the kick to his knee that sent him crashing to the ground.

He fell. The tip of my blade pressed against his throat, drawing blood. Michael’s eyes widened as they met mine.

I held the sword steady. “You were saying?”

“Child!” Sabrina’s voice cut through the heat of battle. I felt a hand touch my shoulder, but did not turn to look at my mistress. She persisted just the same. “Let him go. I will reprimand him in private.”

Michael and I continued to regard one another, but there was a difference in the gaze shot back to me. I could not put my finger on it at the time. A small dose of fear, perhaps? A subtle awe? Maybe a fledgling form of respect rising to the surface. Whatever the matter, I withdrew my blade and allowed him to stand. Then, I looked at Sabrina.

She furrowed her brow at the expression on my face. “What is it, my son?”

“I like the sword,” I said, smirking in a manner that hinted at the dark side who wanted out again, who hungered for blood to make up for his weakened condition. Still, he knew exactly what he held in his hands. He held fate. “I’d like to keep it, please.”

Sabrina did not respond. I turned from the field of battle, walking past stunned gawkers and stepping on splinters of wood with sword in hand. I made it to the threshold separating the two rooms before Sabrina ran for me and grabbed my arm, coaxing me to face her. She held the sword’s sheath out toward me. “You forgot this, dear,” she said. Then she paused and kissed my cheek, whispering, “Dark killer Flynn, go do what it is immortals do.”

The name resonated in my ears with decadent sweetness. Another identity. Another life. Someone other than the Peter stopping me from vampire fulfillment. I nodded at Sabrina and slid the sheath over the blade while I walked past my brethren.

Everything changed from that point forth.

I walked to the stairs, passing a mortal familiar assigned with managing our affairs, and shot him a hungry look. The short, wiry human scurried away like a petrified mouse. I grinned. The added sense of power draped my shoulders like a coat of arrogance and clothed me until I reached my private quarters.

I kicked displaced furniture aside and set the sword onto my dresser. Stripping off my violated shirt, I tossed it on my bed and walked into the bathroom, cleaning the blood from the mending wounds and freshening up again. I rummaged in my closet through the sparse collection of clothing I possessed. Pushing back the hand-me-downs given to me upon my awakening, I uncovered one item donated by Michael himself.

A black suit, perhaps the most contemporary piece of clothing my older brother owned before he passed it down to me. It was tailored to his frame – designed for a lankier being – but our overall similarities in height and weight permitted me to experiment with a different style. The more formal attire with its inky, midnight hue contrasted against my pale skin in a curious, yet satisfying, manner.

I wore it onto the streets to sate my hunger with a proper feed.

***

That night, I brushed past a mortal girl and followed her into a club. She lost her life and several pints of blood in the back of the establishment, with the suit-clad devil that lured her there long gone before a patron found her. I left her lying face down in the remnant spilled from her jugular. My feet possessed the stride of a killer unlike my previous self when they touched Philadelphia asphalt again.

I returned to the coven. The smile I shot Rose as I passed caught her attention and paused her conversation with Rebecka. The latter still wore splatters of blood across her dress, but said nothing and parted company with Rose without one word of protest. Rose floated toward me with lithe footsteps and pressed her body against mine, a million intentions stated in that action.

The sounds shaking the walls that night were of a much different nature than the ones in weeks prior. Claw marks and puncture wounds littered my body. The name called in the throes of passion reverberated in my ears when I closed my eyes to rest. I slept much sounder that morning than I had since my earliest days as a vampire.

When I opened my eyes the next evening, it was as though I had experienced a second awakening. My tongue still tasted the woman I murdered the night before and my hand buzzed with the recollection of holding the sword. While I did not see Michael in the hallowed halls of the coven, I crossed paths with Sabrina in the main vestibule as I returned from another outing.

My mistress placed her hand on my shoulder, stopping me. I studied her, eyebrow raised, while her fingertips brushed across the fine linen of my suit. “Did your brother give this to you?” she asked.

I nodded. Sabrina shook her head and raised her eyes from my lapel to my glasses. “You need a few of your own, my dear. I will summon a tailor at once. For now, come to my quarters. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“As you wish, Sabrina,” I said. She flashed a seductive smile and I followed her up the stairs, marveling over the change a day brought with it. The people who passed us all looked at me in a different manner, word having spread by then, no doubt, of the coven second-in-command being brought to his knees by an untrained neophyte. Where once their gazes were laden with disdain, now I saw the same expression on their faces I saw on Michael’s. The experience was intoxicating.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, as we approached the door to Sabrina’s penthouse.

Sabrina nodded at the stocky bodyguard beside the door. Paul only offered me a quick glance. “We shall discuss this in more length inside, but I believe I have an offer that will interest you.” A deliberate pause followed. Her eyes traced over me. “Flynn.”

A wicked smile surfaced in response, one I could not contain if my life depended on it. She chuckled in response. “You like this new identity?” Sabrina asked.

“Yes, I do, actually.” My smile broadened.

She raised an eyebrow at me, her grin never wavering. “Well, I believe we can help you make some good use of it, child.” Sabrina turned before I could answer and opened the door to her private quarters, pausing to allow me to step inside ahead of her.

I stopped, though, the moment I saw him standing in her living area.

Michael raised his head, his eyes studying me first and longer than they did Sabrina. Standing in front of a leather couch with a book in hand, he lowered it onto a table and then straightened again, slipping one hand in a pocket. He did not flash condescension or loathing, but gazed at me, indifferent. I had not crushed the elder vampire’s spirit, but he did not regard me as an inferior nuisance any longer, either.

Sabrina closed the door and preempted any exchange of greetings. “I believe we are on the dawn of an epiphany, my dears,” she said, stepping into the room where Michael stood. “And while I should be reprimanding you both for that childish little fight you engaged in, I’m actually tickled that it happened.”

My mistress sat in a leather chair matching the couch and crossed her legs. Her eyes studied me. “Well, come. Sit.” Sabrina pointed at another chair. “Robin and I have a proposition for you.”

“Robin?” I asked as I stepped forward, remaining standing for the time being.

Michael looked away. “What’s fair is fair,” he said, murmuring. “I accepted your wager and you bested me.”

“I think it’s splendid,” Sabrina said, a chuckle in her voice. “Flynn and Robin. Suits both of you, if you ask me. You wish to act like a pair of brigands, then you will wear their colors.” Her amusement dissipated as quickly as it surfaced. “Now, sit.”

I lowered my frame into the chair and watched as Michael – Robin – did the same. He settled onto the couch, looking at Sabrina and compelling me to do the same. Sabrina glanced at both him and me. “As I said, I should be handing out punishments for the spectacle of last evening.” Her eyes settled on me. “You, for insubordination to a second-in-command and the blatant lack of respect you have displayed toward him.”

Sabrina looked next at Robin. “And you, for threatening the life of a member of this coven. You know what type of punishment I exact on those who threaten my offspring. You acted as though a mortal child, not a vampire of your years, and should count yourself fortunate I do not send you into exile.”

Robin studied his hands on his lap and nodded. “If exile is the punishment for… .”

“Oh, stuff it. We have spoken of how you are going to pay your dues.” The red-headed vixen turned her attention back to me. “Prior to that little debacle, I believe you and I were talking about gifts and talents, you only seeing a curse and me telling you the talents would emerge when you embraced what you are.” A grin resurfaced, in all its decadent wickedness. “And then I witnessed you with that blade and saw a prodigy in the making. Tell me, dear Flynn, have you ever wielded a sword before?”

I scoffed. “The only thing with a sharp edge I used before was a scalpel.” I stifled adding the butcher knife assassination of my former paramour to my resume.

“Which makes this all the more of a wonder to me.” She shook her head, the smile an indelible fixture on her face. “You creatures truly are born with that proclivity.”

“Excuse me?”

She flicked her hand to the side in a dismissive manner. “Never mind, dear. The point is, what you did transcends astonishing. I think we need to cultivate this.”

The way she regarded me caused a sudden shiver to run up my spine. Sabrina opened her mouth wide enough to flash fangs at me “You liked that sword, yes?” she asked.

I nodded without bothering to consider the question. Sabrina nodded as well. “This is why you wanted to keep it. You have a bit of a pull toward it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” I furrowed my brow. “Even before I stole that sword off the wall, I was looking at the display weapons in the parlor and felt something strange. Like something was…” I pointed to my ear. “Whispering at me.”

Sabrina’s grin turned amused. “Child, you hear too many voices. I need you to push that all past you.” The smile finally faded. “I need you to have your wits sure and steady. Robin is going to teach you how to properly use that blade. I am going to keep an eye on you to see how you progress. You might have great things in store for you.”

“Robin’s going to teach me?” I looked at him as he turned to look at me. A smug grin enveloped my countenance. “Didn’t I just beat him in a sword fight?”

“Do not get cocky, neophyte,” Robin said, a dash of annoyance bubbling to the surface. “You barely won. Had I not been so incensed, I would have impaled you before you stumbled upon the opportunity to play dirty.”

“Sour grapes?” I asked.

“Hardly.” Robin scoffed. “You swung the sword like a madman. No discipline to it whatsoever. There were only two things working to your advantage.” He raised a hand, lifting fingers to enumerate his list. “Passion and instinct. One could have just as easily resulted in your demise and the other is what took over when you had no idea what the devil you were doing. If you want to do anything other than throw a piece of steel around and pray for impact, then you have need of instruction. A lot of instruction.”

“Alright.” I looked at Sabrina. “So, if I learn how to use the sword correctly, what’s going to happen?”

“Oh, there is much more to it, my dear. Not only learning how to use the sword. Learning a love for the blade as a whole. I believe you have it in you to become a virtuoso.” Sabrina uncrossed her legs and slid forward in her seat. “Robin will instruct you at first. If you do well with him, then I will bring you the best instructors from the four corners of the world to train you. You fancy the Japanese blade? I will have somebody direct from Japan come to this coven to ensure you become a god amongst men with it. And Robin will teach my blade-wielding assassin how to become a shadow and a myth.”

“An assassin?” I asked, a queer rush of excitement springing up from the depths of my soul. The sadist inside, finding his way to the surface again, woke that much more. My mind spun, dizzy with the prospects. “You think I can become an assassin?”

Sabrina flashed her decadent smile once more. “I think you were born for it, Flynn.”

The rest of the conversation flew by like a blur, a matter of formalities and little more. Sabrina dismissed Robin and I, leaving us to depart together with an awkward silence between us. I observed him, however. His eyes remained fixed ahead of him, his mouth pursed in thought.

The change in tenor begged to be recognized.

“Why did you get in my face last night?” I asked as Robin closed the door to Sabrina’s private quarters.

Robin paused, looking at me with a scowl. “‘Get in your face?’ For God’s sake, speak English.” He shook his head as he looked away. “You have need of learning more than sword skills.”

“You’re going to teach me how speak properly now, too?”

“Whatever it takes.”

Robin fell silent, but did not walk away just yet. I raised an eyebrow. “What provoked your outburst last evening?” I smirked. “Is that better?”

“It’s a start.” Robin’s eyes returned to mine. “Personal matters which are none of your business.”

“Then at least explain ‘Flynn’ to me.”

“A child of red. The name comes from my native country. You are a vampire, brother.” He looked me over from head to foot before staring me in the eyes. “Start behaving as such.”

Robin turned and started for the stairs. I did not give pursuit. I allowed him enough time to put distance between us and did not encounter him again that evening. It was just as well, the bruises of a wounded ego were apparent in Robin’s actions and I was yet adjusting to a rediscovered way of life.

I slipped into my room and began to sort through the mess, seeing in it the chaos of weeks and bent to find that contentment and order I once possessed. I saw the change taking place and relished it. Its taste lingered sweet on the tip of my tongue.

The knife-wielding mortal, turning into the bloody assassin.

Only fitting to see Peter off by the same sharpened edge which made him a killer as well.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Story Beginning