left for my husband and bonded, upon seeing a letter on his desk from flynn. during such times, i could sense a measure of turmoil within my lover… at times, i wondered if he felt as though he was slighting me when he would ask for flynn to come out. this was written to let him know my own heart and acceptance of the matter.

***

My Eternal Maestro,

My, but you are being inundated with letters today, lover mine. *chuckles* Yet, as I have seen my former alter ego has left something here for you, I felt moved to add a note of my own. Do not worry, I did not read Flynn’s note because I feel whatever thoughts he shared should remain sacrosanct between you both. Such is why I have been so accommodating toward the moments you both have been sharing. I know Flynn is a tumult of emotion and I can only imagine what you must be thinking based upon the things I have felt through our bond. I have been attempting to give you both ample time with which to sort such things out.

Now, I know you would probably chide me somewhat for feeling as though I must import some assurance into my words… but I cannot help myself, my maestro. *grins* I believe at times I add the words as a balm, even when they are not demanded, purely because I know whatever has you troubled, you have not felt at liberty to share with me. Such is alright, lover. I have always respected those times when you have wished your private thoughts and such is why the vow I have never to read your thoughts in particular is so solemn to me. Still, I write my poems for you even when the waters are still and the malestroms of life have been put behind us.

Consider these words in much the same vein.

I love you, my maestro. My eternal companion. This… is a strange and amazing thing which has seemingly come out of nowhere, brought about by an idle conversation, and yet it seems to be a miracle which blossomed from something as simple as a wistful thought. As though that small pining which might have existed as the ghost of an ember within you sprang up into a spark of life. *chuckles* Such is how it always seems to be with Flynn and I, truth be known. Whether one or the other of us exists as a ghost, we are never completely gone. I have no trouble believing such sentiments can exist in much the same manner. Which underscores how amazing such things are.

Amazing things, for an amazing person such as you. You are loved. How brilliant and exciting of a thought is this? You and I have been united in marriage, bound in blood, and are devoted to one another the way we are. You and Flynn have been gifted the chance you have now to uncover the possibilities kept from you before now. And know this, my lover… I shall never begrudge whatever form that might take. Nothing could strip from either of us what you and I share and the addition of anything else which might follow cannot divide us. *chuckles* I confess, I have entertained my own thoughts and notions. Such is why I have embraced Flynn the way I have, because I value he is going to be a part of your life now which makes him also a part of mine. (In other manners than the normal, that is to say.)

Does it sound strange for me to mention I think of Flynn somewhat like a brother now?

But as I always endeavor to do with the poetry I pen for you… I wish to know you are loved as you are, with all of the nuances this entails. I have always loved you in this manner and always shall. You are my life, my heart, and my very soul. In fact, I am delighted by the thought that I am permitted to see you so happy. Happy about the love we share. Happy about the relationship you have now with Flynn. With two immortal children who care for you and Robin and Lydia, who value you in their own ways as well. It occurs to me quite often what a strange nest of sorts we fashion when one considers us as a whole. Yet I would defy all the forces of heaven and hell to attempt anything against any one of us.

Such things are never an accident of The Fates, if one believes they orchestrate the things which often find their way into our lives. The positions and unexpected twists which make up the world in which we live. A funny thing this all is… Not only did this give you another chance to love Flynn as you had desired before, my maestro… It gave me a chance to value him as an autonomous being in his own right. We might share memories, but I never truly appreciated the nuances which encompass him in his own right. Perhaps having my personalities merged has permitted me this perspective, or maybe since you value him, it has given me the excuse and ability to look at him as something other than the meddlesome annoyance I made him out toward being for so many years.

You are mending him as you did me, lover. He needed this. For whatever higher purpose this might serve, even the things which influence you and him both are extraordinary to be able to watch. Believe it or not… I am rather curious to see what the future holds.

Now, I believe I shall climb back into bed. Even though I cannot recall getting out of it. *scratches my head and grins* Simply woke to found myself sitting at your desk. As a side thought… I am rather glad John sleeps through the day. It would be very disconcerting for him to come downstairs and… shall we say… come upon me in my current state of dress. I am making a mental note to inform Flynn of where I keep a few pairs of sleep pants.

My love to you always, my husband.

Your Poet,
Peter

P.S. – Considering how often I have been coming and going (which, granted, I know shall find some manner of balance in time, but considering we have no notion of how long, could take a short while), perhaps we might wish to tell John soon? I trust his ability to keep such matters under confidence and at least have something of a level head about it, even if our brother Robin might still be apt to dive over the deep end. *winks* Perhaps we can gradually work on that with Robin.

But I say this not merely because of him discovering Flynn, but also because Flynn has, rather coyly, expressed some interest to me in conversing with John. I think this is as close of a fatherly instinct as my former counterpart is apt to summon, yet I commend him for having it. I told him in our last discussion that conversing with Lydia again might be a ways away because informing her shall have to accompany informing Robin and Delilah. He said he understood.

Simply a thought. You shall have to inform me of what you might think about this later. For now, I have an incredibly attractive man to nestle up beside in our bed. *grins broadly*

***

Scribbled on the outside of the folded note:

Dear Victor,
Need more blood.
Damn, Dad must have been in a writing mood. There’s two letters here. Sorry for writing on the outside of one of ‘em. Hope it wasn’t important. Gonna fly solo on a hunt, but I’ll be back after that.

Ciao,
John

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Eyes Open
————-

“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.”

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Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

***

Enjoy the Silence

The creeping sound of the inevitable is one I have learned to loathe and yet, something I have become accustomed to after fifty-five years on this mortal coil. Everything seems to have its own pulse and while a steady, healthy beat thumping in time with the rhythm of life lets us know the body around us is healthy, when the heart starts to fail, the results can be devastating.

“Words, like violence, break the silence…” Read the rest of this entry

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***

Forgive Me

As the night wore on, I found myself wondering about the knot forming in my stomach. One of the unfortunate side effects of being a seer is the uncanny ability to sense the strangest things. A wicked set of eyes upon me; the intent of evil beings when they mean harm or malice to others. Much of that has had to be tempered, as my own intentions toward a mortal can be less than noble, especially as of late. Embracing what I am has forced things to be as such, but it is a path I care little for retreating from as I find peace with my vampire nature at long last.

So, these whispers and chills have taken on a different form. Intuition, some call it. That heavy weight which deposits itself on my shoulders when I scent something in the air without a face or name. Once upon a time, I boasted of great power and wielded it with authority. I used to gather energy to my fingertips and use it to throw man and vampire alike around like rag dolls, but such had not been the case for years. At best, I became a petty magician after Monica’s death.

Things were different now, though. Ever since meeting Victor, my past had the habit of surfacing during my most private moments with my lover. Years ago, I swore never to speak of who or what I was to any depth and only violated this covenant with Robin and, in very limited instances, with Celeste. Now, though, I spent hours with Victor, exchanging stories over who we were to the deepest, most intimate parts of ourselves. I spoke names I had stricken from my lips. I shed tears I bottled years ago. I explored my abilities in more depth behind closed doors after demonstrating them to Victor.

I opened the doors wide and allowed somebody into the innermost recesses of myself. Read the rest of this entry

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***

A Fixed Point in the Cosmos

It took several seconds of fishing through pockets for me to find the metal cigarette case gifted to me when I yet lived with Ophelia in Toronto. The moment I pulled it out, though, I reconsidered my urge for this lingering mortal crutch. I had wandered outside for this purpose alone and yet, it seemed now that I was outside, I needed something else. My eyes raised heavenward while I turned the case around in my hand idly.

The stars seemed exceptionally bright, but still my thoughts could not help but to drift to when I was a boy, regarding the heavens from the fields my father tended. In rural Pennsylvania, we were surrounded by nothing more than land, it seemed – expansive as the eye could wander either north, east, south, or west. As such, when my much younger and more alive self stared at the stars, he beheld bright crystals shimmering in the black expanse above him. I have wandered many places and looked to the sky each time my feet have touched unfamiliar soil. Never have I seen the stars so brilliant as I did back then. Read the rest of this entry

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Chapter Eleven

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.

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Chapter Ten

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.

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Four Years Later
————————–
“Autumn to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,–
So rolls the changing year, and so we change;
Motion so swift, we know not that we move.”
- Dinah Maria Mulock

***

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.

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Chapter Eight

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.

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Story Beginning

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Chapter Seven

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.”

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