Dark Business
There was a sound like rapid thunder in the dimly lit office. An unceasing barrage of hot lead tore into the neck and chest of the man, as his assassin emptied the clip. His pinstripe suit turned red, and blood splattered against the wall behind him. The bolt clicked into place as the sound of total silence momentarily filled the room. A second later it was broken by the crash of a body falling into a wheeled chair. The man's briefcase was still in hand and his fingers twitched like that of a crushed spider as his cold murderer stepped from the shadow. The assassin had a black trench coat, shades and a beret to match. The figure lowered his HK and pulled down on the magazine release. As the magazine hit the ground he worked a phone from his coat and thumbed in a number.
"Donovan here, Sawyers dead and I have the package, I'll meet you in two hours
at the club to collect."
There was a hint of satisfaction in the voice, "Perfect. I'll be there with the agreed
amount."
There was a click and then a dial tone.
Donovan looked around, scrutinized the scene of business, and then knelt down to
pick up the briefcase. After prying it loose from the dead man's hand he simply picked it up, he wasn't even interested in what the contents were; after all, business was business.
He put his HK back into his coat and exited the office building. Stepping out into the Manhattan night he looked at his watch, it read twenty-three hundred hours. Content
with the time he called a cab.
"Where to?"
"Avram's Club on 42nd."
"Sure thing."
The ride was somewhat anxious; he hadn't fed in two nights and was losing
concentration. The driver quickly noticed that his passenger wasn't too talkative. He
didn't try for a conversation until they reached the destination. At which it was time to
discuss payment.
"Sir, that'll be fourteen seventy-five."
Donovan handed him a twenty and stepped out of the cab without a word.
Looking up he saw the sign to Avram's place, and made his way toward the door. A large
bouncer in a black suit stood at the entrance.
"Can I help you?" The bouncer asked as though this was just routine
conversation.
"I have, business."
"Of course Donovan."
The club was a little quieter that night, than it was usually. It was a dark
atmosphere, with a jazz group in the corner playing, "Straight, No Chaser". He looked at
his watch again, they weren't going to meet for another hour. In the meantime he decided
to get something to eat. Looking around, he saw what do to would pass the time in between then and his meeting.
Donovan took a seat next to her. She looked up at him a little surprised, like she
wasn't expecting company. He admired her dark hair for a moment before he said
anything.
"Want to join me out back for a little while?" Donovan looked deep into her eyes
and she didn't know why she was compelled to comply.
All she did was nod and placidly say, "Sure."
They both stood and went out the back exit to the alleyway. She looked up at him
a little confused. His very eyes broke her will, and she melted under his cold touch.
Donovan gently pressed her up against the alley wall.
"Please forgive my manners, I don't believe I asked your name."
"It's Faye, what about you?"
He didn't answer her. He just placed a hand on her waist, and examined her neck.
The woman softly gasped as she watched his canines grow in length. Putting a hand over
her mouth he bit into her neck. She didn't struggle, not even for a second. His compliant prey grew pale as he fed on her warmth.
Meaning not to kill her, Donovan drew his fangs from her neck. Letting go of her
she almost fell to the ground.
"Go home. Rest." The words came out of his mouth with only the slightest hint of
humanity.
Dazed, confused, light-headed, and a little ruffled she regained her balance and stumbled out to the street corner to catch a cab.
Donovan watched her leave and didn't say goodbye; it wasn't appropriate she would barely remember his touch. Also he left no trace, the wound had already sealed.
The picture of his sire came into his mind. "Your body is dead, and so must you
be to mankind. In the shadows we live our unlives. In the shadows we hunt the hunters of
beasts. And in the shadows we die a first and second death." Each word rang through his
head like a gunshot; though it hit him just a little softer every time.
"I am dead, so dead I must be."
He struggled to control the beast within himself. It raged with perverted satisfaction, as his fangs shortened and his face lost its monstrous overtone.
Donovan stepped back into the bar. It would be open all night and into the morning, although he didn't plan to stay that long. The man he was waiting for was at a
table on the far end of the bar. The man nodded and turned back to his drink. Donovan
made his way over and took a seat, with briefcase in hand.
"Good evening. I see you have the briefcase, let me see it."
The man was little more than the usual scum he did business with. He had a suit
and was no different than the man he had killed earlier. It didn't matter to him, a client
was a client, and this one was no better the man he had just killed.
"The papers are all here. Excellent." The client closed the briefcase, set it on the
ground and put his own on the table. "Thirty-five grand. You can count it later, trust me,
it's all there."
"My trust extends to the same length, that you value your own life." Donovan
rose from his seat and turned to leave with the money.
"Is it true then, is it true what they say… That you're a vampire?"
Donovan stopped, although not looking back at him. "I am burdened with such a curse as you speak, but if you usher the word vampire one more time you won't
survive to see the next dawn."
"Then what would a corpse need with so much money?"
The vampire threw open his trench coat, and pressed his HK up against the man's
forehead. "Unlife has a cost just as life, and equipment is never free." Holstering his
weapon he turned to leave once more, "Daybreak is in five hours, and I have, other
business to attend."