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She stops in front of the elevator and jabs the button, her spine rigid. “What about you? Why is a guy wearing a Rolex moving into this crummy building?”
The elevator pings as it rises past each floor, creeping upward at a torturously slow pace. “This building isn’t terrible,” I lie.
She snickers. “Right.”
I gesture for her to go in first, and she steps into the elevator without delay. I take my place behind her, pressing the button for the ground floor. The doors close softly, and we begin our descent.
There’s silence as we lower, the elevator pinging as each level passes by. I loosen the collar of my white polo. “I’m here temporarily,” I finally reply.
She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “Oh,” is all she says.
The door opens, and again, I display chivalry by gesturing for her to exit first. I watch her hips sway all the way out of the building, deciding to ignore my obvious lapse of sanity for the time being.
Human or not, this woman is…interesting.
Rune’s building rises from the ashes of an industrial wasteland, seeming out of place amongst its smoggy backdrop. Concrete steps rise from the sidewalk, leading to the guarded front doors.
Two vampires, henchmen, hover near the entrance, both staring stoically in my direction.
I climb the stairs two at a time, jogging at an acceptable speed to any human that may be watching.
The men let me enter without question. No doubt they both remember my outrage at yesterday’s rude greeting. I smile at them as I pass.
Inside, the lobby is spotless. The room is adorned with white tile, and tables set with red orchids. On the far side of the space, I see a marble countertop, and behind it sits a brunette. Taking confident steps, I make my way towards her. Her ruby red lipstick is smeared slightly, meshing with the pale foundation she knows she doesn’t need.
She ignores me for a moment as she jabs at her keyboard, fingers moving so quick they blur. When her gaze finally rises, I smile. “Margret.”
Her eye twitches, face remaining blank. “He’s expecting you.”
I pat the countertop. “It’s always a pleasure, Marg.”
She snarls then, her eyes flashing red, cutting into me like diamonds. “It’sMargret,Sammy boy.”
I’m not sure what holds the Viking legend to Rune’s establishment, but I have a feeling this is a punishment deriving from the Night Order itself. The pity showing in my features must infuriate her.
I smile at her as I leave, much like the henchmen stationed at the door.
When I enter the elevator, I let my mask drop.
There’s only one reason I’m here.
To lie, kill, and disappear as fast as possible.
Rune suspects me. I’m certain of it.
The Night Order doesn’t call on people unless they discover power they wish to exploit. Their power,hispower, is the truth of my sins. For Rune, this is personal.
I killed his brother. My Lord. A vampire blessed by the Order.
Rune either knows, or plans to wring the truth from my neck like a dying chicken’s last cry.
The Night Order’s annual meeting, the one I’ve been summoned to attend, isn’t until next week. Rune hasinsistedI aid him in a few political issues until then. The only skill I have, and the only one he wants, is to hunt and kill.
So I guess I’ve fallen back to my previous career path, at least for the time being.
The elevator doors open to a long, white hallway devoid of décor or art; just like Rune’s soul. My footsteps echo as I approach the entrance at the end of the hall, and before I’ve made it halfway, the barrier creaks open.
Rune’s office is a blast from the past; an old man’s wet dream. Behind his desk is a wall full of fine wines and dark whiskey, and beside them are stacks of cigar boxes. The room’s lighting is the only thing from this era, with its blue hue cascading from built-in fixtures on the ceiling.
