The night air possessed a pointed chill. I only knew this because I saw John before he slipped into Robin’s rental car, teeth chattering and arms huddled close to his body. Fresh snow had fallen on the mountains of Lake Tahoe some time the night prior and as a result, the wind carried the crisp bite of winter when it blew past. October in the mountains. I had not realized, when Victor and I chose the place we would be wed, that white-capped peaks would provide the backdrop to our outdoor ceremony.

It seemed almost magical.

I recall driving up to the resort, fresh from a five hour flight with Victor behind the steering wheel, leading us through winding paths toward our destination. As the snow appeared into view, I marveled over it, grinning at my soon-to-be-husband and making an offhanded comment about snow angels. The corner of his mouth curled upward. He countered with what precisely we would be doing on the ground if such a thing were to transpire.

Needless to say, the shiver running up my spine, then, had nothing to do with the temperature. Read the rest of this entry

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I remember Monica Alexander Dawes very well.

She had bright green eyes like mine, with dark hair flowing down past her shoulders and a blonde streak which framed one side of her face. This strange permeation of her supernatural gifts was something I always wondered about, even when I met her as an assassin. Even when I hated her. My, how much things changed. Within the span of a few months, I went from loathing the wiry, impish sorceress to falling headlong into love with her. In time, I found myself pining for my mortality, if just so we could be together as a typical man and woman. I traveled across four continents for her. I fought to the death to defend her. And in the end of it all, I woke lying in a scrap heap of rubble, possessing a pulse and breathing air once again.

We escaped from the Order we served to be away from its demands. I, a master seer. She, a gifted watcher. Commodities to an entity whose sole purpose was to hunt and slaughter that which I had been… vampires. We woke late one night, trapped in a hotel in Rome, with little more than the clothing on our backs and my sword by my side. Somehow we made it to Naples and, subsequently, to a small Catholic mission buried deep within Costa Rica. Read the rest of this entry

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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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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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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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Story Beginning

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“He who fights monsters should look into it that
he himself does not become a monster.
When you gaze long into the Abyss,
the Abyss also gazes into you.”

- Friedrich Nietzsche

***

Chapter One

I cannot recall what caused the clarion bell to sound alarms through my psyche, but at once, it was as though the haze shrouding the world around me began to lift. Time froze and for a moment, an epiphany struck in all its horrible glory.

I had completely and utterly screwed up.

Blood covered my hands. I gazed down at the knife I held, both staring at it and failing to see it all at once. All I could think at that moment was that she committed the initial mistake and this was all some twisted cause and effect playing out before me. My mind struggled to compose facts, piecing together disjointed thoughts in a mosaic I focused hard on deciphering with wide eyes and furrowed brow. It left me naked before my own scrutiny, lost within the unpleasant reminder my life seemed little more than one calamity after the next. Only, this event trumped all others which preceded it.

Lifting my gaze from the weapon poised in my palm, I spied them lying there. Two people, a man and a woman. And both of them were dead.

My knees gave out; I slid down the bedroom wall. Settling on the floor with the knife dropping from my grip, I brought both hands to my head and started rocking back and forth. I walked in on her, this was true. She looked at me and screamed; yes, yes, I recalled this as well. It was when the other person shot out of bed that my memories seemed to shatter like a pane of plate glass. I struggled to replay the events, my head throbbing and the sensation of the knife’s hilt still fresh on my skin.

The knife. I fetched it from the kitchen. Oh God, what had I done?

Curling up as though a boy frightened of his own shadow, I winced as the dam of shock buckled under the weight of too many images crowding in at once. Too many images, such as her calling out, “No, Peter! This isn’t what you think!” and me spitting out the words, “You selfish whore, what did you do? What did you do?!” An involuntary laugh floated past my lips when I remembered the bastard she was fondling not more than thirty seconds prior. He fell to the floor, tripping over his own jeans and barely came to a stand by the time I rushed upon him.

Tears formed in my eyes. Hysterics burst forth from my lips. Neither of the actions lent themselves toward any hope I yet possessed my right mind, but did nothing to make me feel justified in what I did next either. Rather, I plunged deeper into the abyss while crimson stained the black and white movie playing my mind.

He was my first victim. I did not pause to ask his name. I gave no warning of what I meant to do. Instead, I charged forward with the kitchen knife and sank it deep into his stomach. He bent over and when I kicked his head upward, I paused to stare at his neck, beholding a sight strange and delicious. One swipe across his throat and he screamed no longer after that.

My senses should have come screaming back when he hit the ground, begging me to realize what on earth I was doing, but my lover of two years – the woman I felt was my soul mate – gazed at me with glassy eyes and her tears were not for me. This only enraged me further. I grabbed her by her necklace, snapping the gold chain and pendant from her throat. Plunging the dagger into her chest, I held it there, as though removing it would cause her black heart to rejuvenate. We stared each other in the eyes. The instrument of her death slipped from her body as she crumpled to my feet.

I wished she had fallen to kiss my feet, but there would be no pleas for forgiveness anymore. No, two dead bodies laid before me and lifetime of remorse loomed on the horizon. “I have to get out of here,” I whispered, swiping at my cheeks. My fingers left tribal war paint smudges and my clothing bore conspicuous blood stains, but I didn’t care. In fact, I was amazed when my weak knees supported my weight and allowed me to pick myself back up.

I stumbled down the hallway to her front door. The thought traced across my mind that her neighbors might have heard the screams emanating from the apartment, but I remained apathetic toward it. They might be gathered outside, a lynch mob with pitchforks and torches to carry off the monster I had become, but I welcomed it, to be honest. When I swung open the door, however, I saw nothing more than an empty corridor. So, I trudged forward, not knowing where I intended to go, yet realizing I could not stay there.

The images assailed me again.

I saw the look in her eyes as our gazes locked, her brain not yet dead from the lack of life-giving oxygen cycling through her veins. “Peter… I’m sorry.” That miserable bitch. Why did she say she was sorry? Why did she rob me of a pure lover’s vengeance by staining my actions with her repentance?

My walk became a run.

I saw the scowl of hate I shot her in return. “Burn in hell,” I muttered. How could I say that? Did I not realize what I had just done? Even if her love for me was cast aside with capricious ease, mine for her was still strong and in seconds, I destroyed the one thing I cared for the most.

Hysteria threatened to claim me. I dashed for the door to the outside and slammed into it, knocking myself into the night air and recoiling when the cold of January rushed headlong into me. Once again, the idea of being lost – vulnerable – struck me.

I continued running toward the street, trying to escape the guilt pounding heavy through my head. The mob crowd might not have been following me, but my conscience was gaining and its feet moved swifter than mine. I passed through upscale apartment buildings, through a park, and ran until I came to a patch of Philadelphia asphalt and darted down it without caring one iota for the traffic.

One car swerved, then another, but I did not remain on the street long. I turned down an alleyway and continued running from the pain wishing to tear me limb from limb. Its footsteps closed in. I felt its breath prickle my skin. I sensed its presence enveloping me, but nothing prepared me for the abrupt way my sprint came to a halt.

It was as though my conscience became personified and obtained corporeal form; or, so I thought at the time. Ignorance converging with my own frenzied panicking prevented me from understanding what took hold of me when a set of hands grabbed me, followed by another. I struggled against the grip, screaming, “I was going to marry her! It isn’t my fault! Oh God, why did she do this to me? Why did she make me kill her?!” The hands kept firm hold of me, however, until my attackers silenced my rant with a swift smack against my throat. Suddenly, I realized I wasn’t being held back by my conscience at all.

The second clue was much more painful.

I felt a tongue slide against my neck milliseconds before a set of sharp teeth pierced my skin. Hollering as an afterthought, I gasped through the pain, trembling while blood ran down my chest and intermingled with the sweat which came from running. The lips pressed against my flesh drew inward, a sickening sucking noise resonating in my ears while the hands around me tightened. I felt an overwhelming urge to sleep wash over me and did not have the energy to fight it. A chill sent shivers through my entire body.

My eyes fluttered shut. My head bobbed. I could not see the face of my attacker, but had little desire to anyway as my pulse became faint and my knees threatened to buckle again. Whoever held me prevented me from falling over while my brain commenced the same shut down which must have transpired when Lydia fell to my feet. I whispered her name – Lydia – as though remembering it for the first time through all the chaos. It formed all the apology my dying breaths could manage. I did not have the chance to add any further words of remorse.

Instead, the cool flesh of somebody’s wrist touched my lips. It silenced me and focused my fleeting attention toward a viscous liquid which ran past my parted lips. The moment I tasted their blood upon my tongue, a foreign premonition stirred my senses, the same way seeing the slit throat of Lydia’s newfound lover had while I yet remained in the throes of homicidal rage. A female voice spoke in a soothing manner. “Drink,” she said. “Take it in, Peter. Because tonight, we will fulfill your destiny.”

I drew inward once, heeding the woman’s command. The strength which had escaped me returned enough for me to drink again. I wanted it without knowing why. In fact, I became more and more ravenous with each mouthful of blood and did not realize I’d grabbed hold of her arm until a violent pulse of pain forced my fingers to tighten, my mouth lifting from her wrist so I could cry out in agony. Before I figured out what was happening to me, another wave of fatigue throttled back with all its sound and fury.

My legs finally gave out. My body slumped into a set of arms. The world drifted from my consciousness while voices spoke around me in a dissonant manner. My breaths became shallow and ceased altogether and soon I drifted off to sleep.

Little did I know, as my heart stopped its rhythmic beating, that the blood I drank belonged to a vampire. I had just lived my final night as a mortal.

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