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I stop at the threshold, pressing the door open with the push of my fingertips.
“Come, Samuel.”
Rune’s raspy voice echoes from beyond the door. I find him seated in his antique leather chair nestled in the room's corner. Today he is alone, with nothing but a lit cigar for company.
No women, no blood.
My throat burns, and I swallow, pushing down memories of the girl I tasted only yesterday. My feet beg to remain planted where they are, but I force them to move, approaching the empty seat across from myuncle.I collapse onto the velvet cushion, my aura emanating ease as I cross one leg over the other. “Are you ready to tell me why I’m here, Rune?”
The aging man smiles, his blunted teeth stained with old blood. He taps a finger against his cigar, causing a flurry of ash to drop to the ground. “There’s no beating around the bush with you, is there, Samuel?”
I stare at him, my head cocking. “Not really. I’d rather get through this week and return to my villa, but you already knew that.”
He scoffs. “Return to your villa? Why? I don’t understand what holds you there. You used to be so…” He gestures with his cigar, swirling a string of smoke into the air. “So vicious. How could a mundane life of acting human please your needs?”
I remain perfectly still, careful not to bunch my fists. “I’ve changed.”
“Hmph.” he nods, taking a drawl of his tobacco. “You have. Barros’ death must have taken a real toll on you.” His eyes narrow, flashing red for a brief second.
I loosen the tightness in my jaw. “A Lord’s death is always a blow to one’s ego. I was supposed to protect him.”
Rune’s lips tighten. His intelligent eyes search mine for any hint of deception.
After a moment, he relaxes into his chair, the mask of familiarity resuming. “Nevermind that. I requested you for your skill set, not your personal dilemmas. There’s a newly turned vampire somewhere in the city, draining humans and leaving them in ditches. It’s causing a real pain in my ass, so I need you to find him and give him this.” He leans to the right, pulling the drawer of a side-table open. His hand disappears for a second before returning with an envelope. It’s sealed with red wax, stamped with the Night Order’s cheesy logo. Blood splatter with a bold X on top. “Make sure he reads it. If he seems like the type to skip our generous invitation,” Rune smiles, this time elongating his sharp, curved fangs. “Then ensure he knows how impossible that will be.”
I take the invitation from him, turning it around in my hand. “You want me to hunt a vampire and intimidate him into attending the annual meeting?” This is child’s play. Any other vampire, even the dumb bodyguards stationed at the front doors, could hunt a newly turned fledgling. I expected an assassination order, or the kidnapping of a vampiric leader’s runaway, but notthis.
Rune grimaces. “This fledgling is flighty, like a mouse. Two of my men have come back empty-handed, and the Order wants this donenow.” He nods toward the envelope. “So do it.”
I resign with a sigh, tucking the letter into my suit pocket. “Do you have a file on thismouse? A list of the body dumping areas he frequents?”
Rune tips his cigar toward me, grinning victoriously. “I’ll have Margret email you the information in a few hours. Until then,” He points to the window, where the glowing cityscape hums with life. “enjoy the wonders of New York City.”
Thewondersof New York City include bar hopping drunkards and flashy ladies of the night. No matter how intimidating my demeanor is, people keep stopping me on the street, asking for change. Once a lady with a cast on one leg beckons me, politely asking for a dollar. If I hadn’t left home with nothing but a credit card, I’d have given her money.
As I travel closer to my apartment, seeking the comfort of solitude, the streets get denser. Humans mull down the sidewalks, passing so close they brush my shoulders. All of them smell like fresh blood and sweat.Noneof them smell like strawberry shampoo and toasted bagels.
She’s infiltrated my mind again. Jane. A warm-bodiedhuman. I continue to make up excuses for my earlier actions. ‘She’s my neighbor,’ and ‘her ass looks good’ are frequent explanations for my growing interest in the girl.
I know how terrible I am for wondering, but still, Iwonder. Why did she move from her hometown in North Carolina? Where is her family? What about herexcitesme? My brain stumbles its way into a corner, wrapping around all the who’s and what’s of her existence.
I’m turning the corner of a busy street when my phone rings, the tone buzzing inside my pocket. My finger swipes the screen as I lift it to my ear. “What?”
“Is New York living up to your expectation, brother?” Francis’ smug voice is laced with humor.
“Right,” I snort. “It’s a fucking wonderland. Tell Matthew my apartment is a piece of shit.”
Francis’s laughter crackles through the speaker. His voice distorts as he moves away from the phone. “Yo, Matt! Sam is pissed about the flat. I told you he wanted something bigger.” I hear Matthew snickering in the background.
“I don’t care about thesize.It’s fucking empty. How am I supposed to grieve my freedom without a mattress to soak up my tears?”
Francis chuckles again. “I’ll line something up for you. What do you need?”
“A futon, blackout curtains, and a table.” I think about my bombshell of a neighbor, and add. “Throw in a case of wine and crystal glasses.”
“Oh, damn! The night life must be turning you into a classy mother fucker. Wine?” He pauses. “Wait, you aren’t hosting women, are you?”
I hesitate. He thinks I’ve been asked to accept blood slaves from the Order. It’s something they’d do. Something I’m glad theyhaven’tdone. “No. Nothing like that.”
