Chapter 12
"The Breakup"

Artemis,

This is the last time I will write to you.

I'm not even sure what I should say. I realize now that
I have done something to upset you. For that I am sorry,
but I would like to know what it was I have done. My
time with you was brief, but enjoyable none-the-less. I
would like to have positive memories of our time together
and should chance find us passing on the street, I would
not like that meeting to be uncomfortable.

I have many emotions concerning us generated by the
voices around me. Dominick, my father, yourself, my heart,
and my head all have opinions about you and about how
you have treated me and about how I have treated you.
Would I be wrong to say that we have both erred in our
handling of the situation?

I was playing both sides. I am sorry for that. I could not
decide between you and Dominick so I tried to have both,
and now I have neither. Dominick has not returned to me,
and you will not return my letters. I was greedy, and I
apologize.

But are you any less guilty? All I ask is a response of some
sort. At most I would like to see you again, to hear from
your own voice what I have done to offend you and if there
is any chance of us continuing a relationship. At the least I
would like a note saying that you don't want to see me again.

I fear I will not be at peace until this rift between us is ended.

Christine Toole

For the third morning in a row Entreri lowered a note from Christine and looked over his desk at his messenger. The look on the Sam's face told Entreri that the boy had read it, as he had read the previous two notes. Entreri wasn't mad. In fact, if the boy had not read it or any of the others he would have given them to him now. Entreri needed advice, and as odd as it might appear to go to a 12-year-old boy for advice with regard to women, Entreri knew it was his best option.

The assassin had not slept well. He usually had a feeling of closure after each job accomplished, but something about this adventure did not sit well with him. That Alececarr's spirit was free was an obvious issue, but that did not bother Entreri as much as it probably should. The spirit would likely inhabit something else or respond to the call of an evil priest, but someone else could deal with that when it happened. Entreri's job had been to rid this city of vampires, and he had done that.

So why did he feel a sense of incompletion?

He didn't have to look any further than the note in front of him. Christine was a loose end. She was the daughter of an important man and Entreri would do well not to burn any bridges with the Toole family. But what was he to do?

He looked again at Sam. The boy had been a messenger in the northern section of town for several years and had likely carried dozens of love letters and break up notes to and from his clients. He had experience in these types of relationships.

As Entreri looked at the boy, he realized the youth wasn't going to speak up on his own. He was too well trained for that. "Bring her a note saying-" Entreri started but didn't get very far.

"Sir, you can't do this through a letter. You need to go see her."

Entreri was afraid of that. "Why?"

"Women are sensitive. They don't take rejection well. You are going to break up with her, right?"

Entreri stared death at the boy.

"Of course you are. But why did you see her at all?"

Another stare.

"I'm sorry sir, none of my business." The boy paused, fighting with his own curiosity. Common sense won out, and he stopped asking questions. "Tell her you are not ready for a commitment. That one is really popular. Tell her it's not her; it's you. You need some more time and space to think things through."

Entreri nodded, understanding the hollow answers for what they were. And, not for the first time, he was happy he had always stayed clear of the courtship game. He imagined having to tell Pasha Basadoni, "It's not you; it's me. I'm just not ready for a commitment yet," before he walked out of the guild. Somehow, he didn't think it would go over too well.

Entreri arrived at Christine's house by late morning. He was greeted at the door by Thurston Toole. He was not smiling. "My daughter is upstairs."

Not a "Hello," or "Good morning." Entreri swallowed wondering if he should further muddy the waters by offering an excuse. "I have been busy," he said, trying to look sincere.

"Of course you were," Thurston replied, closing the door behind Entreri. His tone and face had not changed. And then the older man just walked away. Entreri wondered if he should say more, but what would it matter? He was going to go upstairs and officially breaking off his relationship with the man's only daughter. He had spent all morning trying to think of a good reason and hadn't been successful; he wasn't going to come up with anything in the next 30 seconds.

As Entreri slowly climbed the stairs to his right, he wondered if he shouldn't maybe string this relationship out a while longer. He could play his cards so that she would break up with him. He could be rude and obnoxious and . . .

Entreri didn't want to play games. He didn't have time to play games. He was trying to run a business – two businesses. But if his relationship with Thurston deteriorated, it could severely jeopardize his financial future.

Entreri stopped his train of thought at the top of the stairs. He had never been to Christine's room before. He was hoping it would be obvious. It was. The deadly assassin stopped in front of a door marked with decorative woodwork spelling out the woman's name. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It is Artemis. I came to talk."

To say the door opened quickly would be an understatement. Entreri actually jumped a bit.

The look on Christine's face went through a telling range of emotion. First there was elation at seeing him again, then frustration at their current situation, then anger when she remembered that she was blaming him.

"Well?"

Well, what, Entreri thought. Were they to have this discussion in the hallway? "Can I come in?"

She opened the door wider and allowed her guest to enter. The room was not neat. There were clothes on the floor, the bed was not made, papers were scattered about, and crumpled tissues lay about the floor. The door to the balcony faced east, but the drapes were pulled, not letting the sun shine any light into the room, making it very gloomy.

Entreri turned to face Christine as she closed the door. She was wearing a heavy robe, closed at the waist with a tie. Her hair was not done and her makeup had not been removed after the last time she had worn it and was smudged all across her cheeks. She had been crying a lot.

"I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Is there someone else?" Christine interrupted, asking the question that had been bugging her for days.

"No, there's no one el-"

"Then why? Why can't we be together?"

If you'd let me finish a sentence, Entreri thought, then I'd tell y-

"I can't stop thinking about you. We were meant to be together. I can feel it."

"We have only known each other for a few days," Entreri replied, holding his breath, waiting to be interrupted. "You can't possibly know after onl-"

"Oh but I do." She walked toward him quickly, almost tall enough to look him straight in the eye. "I know it in my heart."

Entreri could not hold her gaze and turned away, walking toward the curtains. "You are confused," he said. "You have been through a traumatic time and are not thinking straight." He pulled on the cord and opened the curtains. The sun had risen toward the center of the sky and lit up only about three feet in front of the paned double doors. "You need to get out. You can't stay cooped in this room trying to figure things out. You need to live, meet new people, experience things."

"But what if I've already found what I want?"

Entreri heard her walking closer and he turned around to face her. "There are other men in this city. At the party when we met there were doze-"

"And none of them paid me any notice," she said. "None of them but you . . . and . . ." now she turned away, staring off into a corner of the room.

"Dominick was bad for me," she almost whispered. "I can see that now. But you," she turned to face him again, "you are different. There is nothing wrong with you." A look crossed her face suddenly as if she was having a thought for the first time. "Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?"

"No," Entreri said quickly. "It's not you," Entreri winced suddenly, realizing the wisdom of a 12-year-old boy. "It's not you; it's me," he said soothingly.

"Then what is it?" she demanded. "What is so terrible about you that is keeping us apart? What are you hiding from me?"

Now Entreri took his turn to look away. What was wrong with him? What could he tell her? As his mined raced, his eyes looked out through the doors to the balcony. On the railing he saw mud. They were footprints, likely left by Dominick during his last visit to this room. A thought struck him then: Dominick came in through the balcony; Entreri used the front door.

There was a time when Entreri had used the balcony or window or chimney or anything to hide his entrance. Now he used the front door. Now he was a member of society. He no longer lived by the sword, or at least he had no desire to. He was a businessman now. He had accepted that challenge hesitantly but had been very successful. Should he take up the challenge of starting a relationship? Should he officially become a member of society, someone who is welcomed in the front door instead of sneaking in the back window?

Entreri enjoyed his business ventures. He found a strange pleasure in balancing his accounts at the end of each month and showing that he had earned a profit. He took pleasure in watching his competitors scrambling to keep up with him. He was happy with it. Would he find pleasure in starting a relationship? Would it make him happy?

"You're not happy are you?" Christine asked to his back. "You live alone. You criticize me for not getting out and living, but what have you done? You probably just sit in your office counting your money. Well I did look outside of my room, and I found someone. I found you. I see you clearly. Do you see me?"

Entreri heard a muffled sound behind him and knew what he would see when he turned around. Entreri's eyes started on the floor where her robe lay bunched up around her bare feet. His gaze went up her body slowly. She was wearing a slip, thin and shiny. It was sleeveless with two thin straps over the shoulder. The bottom ended many inches above her knee, and a slit ran up either side to the top of her hips. She took a few steps toward him, the movement of her every curve clearly visible.

"Have you seen me yet? Have you bothered to really look? What do you see, Artemis? Could I make you happy?"

Entreri was drawn to her. His eyes moved over her body as they had never moved before. Not since he was a young teenager, trying to sneak a peak into Pasha Basadoni's harem had he so desired to see beneath a woman's clothes. But why now? Why her? Christine was beautiful, no doubt, but no more so than many other women he had met. Sharlotta had been more sensual for sure, lithe yet shapely, but her personality had revolted him in ways that her body could never account for. Catti-brie had been young and vibrant with a muscular body that came from being raised with dwarves. But with all the time he had kept her as prisoner while hunting for Regis, he had never once thought of taking advantage of her.

So why now? Why this burning desire? Entreri's confusion won over his hormones and he walked off at an angle, his eyes avoiding the women as he passed.

"There is something wrong with me?" she sounded skeptical. "Or is that what is wrong with you? Are you queer?"

Entreri stopped suddenly, painful memories of his youth racing through his mind. "No," he said calmly, "never that."

"Then it is me," she reasoned. "Are my hips too big?"

Entreri was staring at the wall wondering how to get out of this.

"Am I too tall? Am I too young? Are my breasts too big?"

"It's not," Entreri turned and his voice caught in his throat. From her last question, she was holding herself, pushing her cleavage up and almost out of the top of her slip. Entreri cleared his throat. "It's definitely not you."

Christine let go over herself suddenly, which was almost just as alluring. She held her hands out wide. "Well if it is not me, and if it is not you, then who is it? Who is keeping us apart?"

The answer struck Entreri like a lightning bolt. "Dominick."

Christine frowned sincerely. "No, he is gone. He is no longer between us."

Entreri's mind was racing, trying to work through the logical pattern. "He was here last night."

"What?" Christine replied. "No, he wasn't. I've told you. I haven't seen him for two days. He said . . ." her voice trailed off as she soaked in the stare from Entreri.

The footprint on the balcony should have been washed off during the torrential downpour last night. The only way for it to exist was if it had been made after the rain had stopped. Entreri didn't bother trying to explain his logic to the women, he just fixed her with a gaze, letting her know that he would accept nothing less than the truth.

She relented. "He was here, but only for a short while. He told me for certain he was leaving town and that I would never see him again."

"He left you with something, didn't he?"

Christine shook her head. "No, he didn't give me anything."

Entreri struck like a snake, taking three quick steps toward her and slapping her hard across the face. "Don't lie to me!"

Christine's face spun away, blood flying from a torn lip. Her head came back quickly with a feral snarl. All beauty was gone from her face now. She stared back at Entreri with red eyes through a furrowed brow. Her tongue snaked out between her elongated incisors to sensually lick the blood from her lip.

"He might have left me with something," she replied with a slight lisp, not yet comfortable talking with a mouth full of teeth. "A wonderful gift."

Before Entreri could figure out what to do with regard to this new revelation, Christine grabbed his arms and pulled him close. "We could be together forever, Artemis. You and I could run this town. We could do whatever we wanted. You could not believe the power I feel."

"It is not a gift," he replied sternly, though her open mouth was only inches from his face. "It is a curse."

"It is eternal life," she argued.

"Which is the biggest lie perpetrated by your kind. It might be eternal, but it is no life. You are dead. There is no beating heart in your chest."

"How do you know?" she asked slyly, dropping her right hand to grab Entreri's wrist. "Have you checked?" She brought his hand up to her chest and placed it directly over her sternum, moving it slowly side to side. "Do you feel anything now?"

Entreri looked her straight in the eyes, his stare sending a chill down Christine's already cold body. "You do not arouse me."

She threw his hand down and grabbed his shoulders. "I will!" Christine pulled him even closer, her fangs aimed at his neck. Entreri slammed his boot down on her bare toes. Christine cried out and Entreri easily freed himself from her grasp. He took a few steps back, instinctively dropping his hand to his belt. Of course there was no weapon there.

"You want to play rough?" Christine asked. "We can play rough." She stepped toward him, throwing punches and kicks. It wasn't the uncoordinated flailings of an armature, but the strikes were measured and timed effectively, sending Entreri on the move, dodging and ducking out of the way. She had obviously taken some hand-to-hand self-defense classes at her university. It wasn't that she was an expert, but she was ten times more disciplined than Dominick had been.

Entreri ducked under a sweeping high kick, and came up with his fist leading. Christine blocked the jab, not knowing that the first attack was always a diversion for the second. His other fist slammed into her ribs. She winced, but not much.

During the block of the first attack, Christine had grabbed hold of Entreri's wrist. She hoisted him back to her, and before he could attack, she flung him across the room. Entreri braced for impact just before he smashed into the bedpost. The post snapped under his weight, and he rolled onto the mattress. Entreri had to treat this fight seriously or her strength would defeat him.

He sat up on the bed, grabbing at the broken wooden post, but the ends were far too blunt to use as a stake. Christine was in front of him quickly, punching and clawing at his face. Entreri waved the broken post as a club, but she accepted the blunt blows to her body, trading them for strikes of her own.

Entreri dropped the post suddenly and grabbed her around the waist lifting her into the air and tossing her over his head as he leaned back on the bed. She hit the wall on the other side of the bed hard, but didn't seem phased. Entreri got up quickly, turning to look at her, but she stayed reclined on the bed, lying on her side. "You want to play on the bed now?" The fingers of her right hand caressed her leg, slowly pulling the slit of her gown well past her hip.

"I don't play well with others," Entreri replied, hooking his toe under the bedpost and tossing it up to his hand. He swung down on her prone form, but she was ready, bringing her forearm up to block the strike. At least she thought she was ready. The skilled fighter easily twirled the post around the block and struck her in the forehead.

Christine shrieked and sprang off the bed like a cat, clinging to Entreri's upper body, pulling him back toward the bed while clawing at his clothes. Behind him, Entreri heard the door to the bedroom burst open. Thurston, who had been eavesdropping outside the room, could stand the curious noises from within no longer.

"What's going on in here?"

Though Thurston asked the question, he didn't really feel like he needed an answer. He saw all he needed. Entreri was wrestling with his scantily clad daughter on her bed. She was desperately trying to get him off, but he was relentless.

Though Entreri had heard the door open and the question that followed, responding to the father was not on the top of his priorities list as Christine was trying to gouge out his eyes. His priorities quickly changed as he felt strong hands grab him from behind and haul him off the bed and up against the wall next to the balcony doors.

"I'm going to pound you to an inch of your life before I hand you over to the city guards!"

It was too much of a warning for someone like Entreri, and as the fist came in, the assassin easily dodged his head to the side. Thurston grimaced as his fist hit the wall, but in his enraged state it was going to take more than that to slow him down. He punched and elbowed the smaller man as he kept him pinned against the wall. Entreri deflected the blows, not wanting to strike back at the man. He knew Thurston would eventually figure things out, hopefully sooner that than later.

It was sooner.

"Daddy has come to play too," a melodic voice came from behind the older man.

Entreri allowed Thurston to get a strangle hold on him, pinning him tight against the wall with one hand as he turned to look at his daughter. The neck hold slackened quite quickly. "Christine, darling, what happened to your face?"

"Don't worry, Daddy," she said with a sly grin on her lips. "I feel great. Would you like to see?" She gripped her father by front of his shirt and yanked him away from Entreri, shoving him back across the room. She wasn't quite strong enough to lift her father into the air from that angle, but her shove was more than sufficient to send him crashing into the nightstand beside the bed.

She turned to look at her father scrambling for his footing and sanity. His daughter had just thrown him across the room. "What do you think, Daddy? Your little girl is all grown up. I'm powerful, just like you told me I'd be. If you only knew how powerful."

Her attention was completely on her father now, and Entreri noticed with interest that she stood only a few feet away from the sunlit floor in front of the balcony. He moved fast, coming off the wall and grabbing the young woman around her waist. He meant to toss her into the light, but she was too fast, elbowing the assassin in the face, causing him to drop her just outside of the light. As Entreri struggled to shake the cobwebs from his brain, Christine delivered a chest-high kick, sending the assassin flying through the balcony doors. He scrambled for his footing, slipped on a piece of broken glass, hit the railing, and flipped over the edge.

"You killed him!" Thurston cried. Though they were only on the second floor, there was a 30-foot drop to a stone patio below.

"Perhaps," said as she sauntered up to her father. "You haven't told me what you think of your transformed daughter?"

Thurston pushed himself away from the nightstand and took a few steps forward. "You are scaring me, honey. I think you need help."

Christine shoved him suddenly, sending him to his back and knocking the wind out of him. "Help? No, you are the one in need of help." Before he could get up, she sat on his stomach. "You are going to need a lot of help."

Help was coming.

Entreri hung onto the lower portion of the balcony counting to five. Thurston was a great distraction, but he needed to make sure that Christine thought Entreri was gone. After five seconds had passed, he pulled himself up the side of the balcony and over the railing. He saw Christine sitting on her father, wrestling with him, and trying to get at his neck. Entreri needed to hurry. He ran to the vanity where a dress had been tossed to conceal a mirror. He grabbed the mirror and ran back to the balcony.

The mirror was three feet tall and cast a large oval of light back into the room – right onto Christine's back. The young vampire stopped wrestling with her father as her body began to smoke and burn. The sight from behind was ugly, but Entreri imagined it was even worse from the other angle.

Thurston recoiled in horror from his daughter as she rose to her knees and burst into flames. Her face was a mask of pain and fear as she cried out, unsure what was going on. She waved her arms about as her body burned faster than an oil soaked log. It lasted five horrifying seconds, and then Christine collapsed into a pile of charred ashes on her fathers face and chest.

"No! No! It can't be!" Thurston wailed. "She can't be gone!"

Entreri walked into the room and leaned the mirror up against the wall. As he approached the grieving man, he tried to think of what to say. "Sorry," seemed so inadequate and disingenuous as the assassin did not feel responsible for what had happened, other than saving the man's life from his own daughter. Entreri stood soberly over the man as tears streamed down his face, his voice choking on the ashen remains of his only child who had burned into nothing right on top of him.

"I'm-" Entreri started.

"Get out! Just get out!"

Entreri did as he was told.

Outside the Toole house, floating down the Garril River was the first of that day's ships. It had been built over the winter and loaded with cargo the previous week. Now it had just finished its trip down through the locks and was on its way to points south. It was loaded with leather, cotton, tapestries, and other such goods in a variety of stages, some raw material, others finished goods.

It did not take much of a crew to float a ship down the river. They had a rotating navigator and a captain. There were a few others responsible for the financial aspect of the voyage once they got ready to sell, but the whole crew only totaled six – six plus a stow-away.

Dominick huddled in the corner of the hold, hidden between bags of cotton and stacks of fabric. He felt very weak. He had just turned Christine the previous night and had fed off of two more security guards before hiding in this ship, but he still felt very weak. He felt weak because he felt alone. The vampire had gotten drunk two nights ago, and when he had woken up, it was already day, and he had to spend his time in the tavern basement, not able to go back home in the sunlight.

After the storm had ended, Dominick had made his way back to the Bloody Mary to find out it had been destroyed. He was alone. There was no army to back him, and if the city was hunting and destroying his kin, then he did not feel safe. Dominick had turned Christine as a sort of parting gift, and then fled town.

Entreri had cost him the hunt for Christine, and he had probably been the one to destroy his fellow vampires. He hoped the assassin was the exception, rather than the rule. The south would be easier.

When Thurston Toole walked into The Dragon's Lair that evening, he was accompanied by the same two body guards that had made the trip with him over a week ago when the rich man had invited Entreri to a party. From the look on the old man's face, it did not appear he was going to extend such an invitation this time.

Thurston stopped right in front of Entreri's table, his two body guards flanking him on either side, their hands on their swords. "Can you explain yourself?"

Entreri chewed and swallowed the piece of meat he had just put in his mouth, giving him time to compose an answer. "I am sorry about your daughter. What happened was not my intention."

"And what, exactly, was your intention?"

"I wished to rid the city of vampires."

The name did not confuse Thurston in the slightest. Entreri guessed that he had probably gone to John to get an explanation and hopefully get Entreri arrested. The fact that the city guard was not here with this enraged father meant that John had defended the assassin. Either that or the captain realized trying to arrest him would be a futile effort.

"So you used my daughter as bait."

"I never dangled Christine in front of the enemy, the way you would dangle a worm in front of a fish. She did that herself. She involved her self with a vampire before I began to court her. If anything, I was trying to protect her from what happened."

"Protect her? Is that why you ignored her pleas to you? I read the notes that left my house, and I know that she asked for your presence several times before you replied; only you replied too late. You used her and then discarded her."

"I was saving the city!" Entreri slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

The guards behind Thurston tensed, but their boss leaned in over the table, blocking any angle they might have had. "Only at the expense of my daughter! You were reckless and irresponsible."

"In war, people die. I cannot stop that. What I can and did do was to limit that loss of life as much as possible. I lost men in this fight too."

"Oh, don't try and compare your worthless cretins to my daughter. The north section could stand to lose a few more drunks. Yes, men die in war, but not little girls!"

"She was not your little girl," Entreri replied. "She was an adult who made her own decisions and paid for them. If I had not stepped into her life, she would have died regardless, and she would have killed you as well."

Thurston had no immediate response to that and the tension that had been building settled down a notch. "Don't ever try to justify your actions to me by hypothesizing what could have happened." He stood up straight now and backed a step away from the table.

"You are not welcome near my house ever again. In fact, I will use my influence to make sure you are not welcomed anywhere in the southern section of town. I would prefer if you would ride one of your ships south and never set foot in this town again. But if you insist on staying, I will not make it easy for you." With that, the lonely man turned and walked out.

Entreri paused over his half eaten meal, considering this change of events. He had a new rival. Was that ever going to change? No matter what he did, he could not escape making adversaries. Whether it was Drizzt, Elliorn, or now Thurston, he kept creating enemies no matter what he did. Entreri shrugged his shoulders. "What's the point of competition," he mumbled to himself, "if you don't have any competitors." With that thought, he turned back to is plate and continued eating.

The End

Let the hate mail flow. I'm sorry about Christine, but I felt Entreri needed a different kind of rival for future stories. I mean there is no point in giving him a sparring partner like Drizzt, because he is too good, so I need to challenge him in different areas.

Well, now I don't know what I am going to do. I have more stories in my head (all authors always do) but I think I want to try something original. I know I keep saying that, but I think I might actually do it this time. My life is too hectic to be able to write on a schedule anymore, so it would be better to start something that people won't have to wait for. We'll see. I'll probably end up writing more fanfiction, but I can at least pretend like I'm going to do something original.

Dave