I do not own the character Hunter Redfern. L.J. Smith does. If you try to make me earn money for this fic (which I'm not, by the way) I will stick out my tongue at you, cross my eyes, and, in general, act rather immature. Please spare me this embarrassment, and simply realize that I am very happy for L.J. Smith and her copyright, and would not violate it even if I wanted to, which I don't. Thank you! =)
From a distance of about a meter from the counter, around three sets of line barriers, by a desk with chained pens and confined calculators and regulated stacks of deposit slips and finally past a harried receptionist typing furiously at her desk, the cue of impatient humanity snaked all the way to the door. Hunter sighed. There was no way in this world or any other that this was worth his time. He picked up a chained pen and began to fill out a transaction request. The line moved slowly forward as human bodies came and went. A small boy tugged on his mother's sleeve.
"Mommy! Mommy! What's wrong with that man's eyes? Mom!"
The woman hushed her child and grabbed his hand to pull him forward, but he continued to stare. Hunter noticed that a tall blond teller was watching him, so he smiled and waved at the boy, who ran and hid, peeking out from behind his mother's legs. With another sigh, Hunter got in line. As he slowly advanced, he noticed the blond teller who had been looking at him. Her skin was tanned a pale bronze that looked out of place under the harsh indoor light, and against her crisp black jacket and pure white silk shirt. Her wavy, sun-bleached hair elegantly framed her narrow face, accentuating her thin, elegant eyebrows, high, slightly flushed cheeks and graceful lips. But the most remarkable thing about her was her eyes. They were blue, but not an ordinary blue. The only part of her untouched by the sun or her surroundings, they shone with an unceasing inner motion of thought. They were like the sea before a storm. She was almost pretty, for a human. Except her smile. It was distant and unrealistic, shining genuine appreciation on worthless things. The behavior of that little boy, for example, and the way he was waving at the security camera. She smiled at that. He was almost to the line barriers when the bank president emerged from a back room, talking animatedly with a representative from the FDIC. Hunter smiled. It was the perfect opportunity. He watched almost patiently until the bank president saw him. Hunter didn't have to do anything. The man's eyes widened slightly in panic, and he hastily concluded his conversation. He ran to Hunter and seized his hand, shaking it almost too enthusiastically.
"Mr. Redfern! So good to see you here! And what brings you to our little corner of the world?" Clearly, the man already knew what Hunter wanted: a very large sum of money from a very old account he had "inherited" – by this time, he was Hunter Redfern V, as well as Hunters I through IV.
"My fund has reached maturity again. I will collect it now." Hunter smiled, and fixed the man in startling golden eyes. He paled.
"We…uh, don't have the cash on hand at this time, but we can give…"
"Cashier's checks will be fine." Hunter smiled again. It was more a showing of teeth. They looked perfectly normal, except that they were normally perfect. The man deflated in relief, and called out,
"Crystal! Would you please help Mr. Redfern here with his transaction?" He was speaking to the teller Hunter had been looking at before, who had just finished with her last customer. "Take him to your private office." The man hurried off to a back room. With another of her distant smiles, Crystal opened a door in the counter and said, "Follow me."
Her office was small and windowless, with walls of a washed-out gray surrounding a plain, slightly disorganized desk and black swivel chair. The only comfort it offered was a lack of the security cameras that cluttered the walls in the front of the bank. Crystal sat in the swivel chair, and offered Hunter a padded chair in front of her desk. Her fingers flew across her keyboard. From here, Hunter could see that her desk abounded with pictures in standing glass frames: a boy nearly buried in sand, a man and a woman walking into a moonlit ocean, a pink sunrise over a calm sea. He sniffed derisively, but quietly, and was glad to see she hadn't heard. His eyes returned to one of the pictures: the buried boy had her same roiling, grey-blue eyes. Perhaps he was her whelp. Crystal glanced up from her work and saw him looking at the photograph, so he smiled for her benefit.
"Is he yours?" Her distant smile returned, then faded.
"No, he's my nephew. I met him and his parents for a day at the beach." Apparently, she enjoyed stating the obvious. "He's such a sweet kid, isn't he?" Hunter nodded and tried to smile, hoping to encourage her to hurry up with his checks. It failed.
"So, Mr. Redfern, are you building a new summer home?"
His eyes boiled with frustration and remembered fury, but she didn't seem to see.
"No. One my island cottage was destroyed in a…tragic fire. I'm planning to have it rebuilt." No one could have mistaken his next smile for anything but a show of teeth. She wasn't looking. In fact, by now she had printed the checks (there was a $5,000 maximum for any single check, so there were quite a few) and was counting them out onto the table. Hunter noticed the grace of her slender fingers as she laid out each one. There was sand under her fingernails. Very unprofessional.
She finished counting, and slid Hunter a receipt, indicating with her dirty fingernail where he should sign. His pen made an elaborate, incomprehensible flourish on the paper.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Redfern. Here are your checks, and we hope to continue to all your investment needs in the future!" Crystal turned her serene smile on him, and her turbulent eyes met his gleaming golden orbs. Ever so briefly, their fingers touched against the checks, and each other.
Contact!
It was the strangest sensation Hunter had ever known. It was as though two minds, two souls, his and hers, were falling into each other and mingling in that single touch until it was impossible to separate one from the other. It brought with it a kind of psychic ecstasy unrivaled by any physical pleasure, and he found himself in a swirl of her, of her thoughts and memories and presence: he felt sand beneath her feet and heard laughter echoing across time, and turned to see the little boy, her nephew. His roiling blue eyes laughed him back, and his hands, her hands – such graceful fingers bloodied – held a stillborn child in a desperate clutch at those stormy eyes beneath the irreverent glaze of death. I loved him…it was her thought, it was his, it was theirs – for there was no "he" or "she", only they. And she saw him. They saw the father of her precious, lifeless child leave her in his grief – and they saw Hunter kill him for fun. They saw his lawyer, a friend of the family, drop silent tears over the divorce papers – and they saw Hunter kill him for profit. They saw her second fiancé – how everything was new and beautiful and right, until he disappeared – and they saw Hunter kill him for power, fangs red with the last of his life, eyes glowing frozen gold. They saw Hunter's quest for power, his endless search for more – her endless quest for love. But it ends now…yes, it ends now… And it ended. They stood, she gasping, he staring. She had seen everything. All he had ever done, all he had ever wanted. And she gazed up at him still – no terror in her tumbling eyes as they tried to meet his yellow gaze. The cashier's checks lay forgotten on the ground where they had fallen.
"Mr. Redfern…" she managed, "Hunter…" but it was too late for words. Hunter slowly raised his hand as if to caress her cheek, and for a brief moment he saw dolphins playing in the waves of her eyes. He continued to raise his hand, up over her head, fingers slightly curled, locked her eyes in his. He broke her neck in one swift motion. She fell. Hunter bent down, gathered his checks, and turned and walked away.
From a distance of about a meter from the counter, around three sets of line barriers, by a desk with chained pens and confined calculators and regulated stacks of deposit slips and finally past a harried receptionist typing furiously at her desk, the cue of impatient humanity snaked all the way to the door. Hunter sighed. There was no way in this world or any other that this was worth his time. He picked up a chained pen and began to fill out a transaction request. The line moved slowly forward as human bodies came and went. A small boy tugged on his mother's sleeve.
"Mommy! Mommy! What's wrong with that man's eyes? Mom!"
The woman hushed her child and grabbed his hand to pull him forward, but he continued to stare. Hunter noticed that a tall blond teller was watching him, so he smiled and waved at the boy, who ran and hid, peeking out from behind his mother's legs. With another sigh, Hunter got in line. As he slowly advanced, he noticed the blond teller who had been looking at him. Her skin was tanned a pale bronze that looked out of place under the harsh indoor light, and against her crisp black jacket and pure white silk shirt. Her wavy, sun-bleached hair elegantly framed her narrow face, accentuating her thin, elegant eyebrows, high, slightly flushed cheeks and graceful lips. But the most remarkable thing about her was her eyes. They were blue, but not an ordinary blue. The only part of her untouched by the sun or her surroundings, they shone with an unceasing inner motion of thought. They were like the sea before a storm. She was almost pretty, for a human. Except her smile. It was distant and unrealistic, shining genuine appreciation on worthless things. The behavior of that little boy, for example, and the way he was waving at the security camera. She smiled at that. He was almost to the line barriers when the bank president emerged from a back room, talking animatedly with a representative from the FDIC. Hunter smiled. It was the perfect opportunity. He watched almost patiently until the bank president saw him. Hunter didn't have to do anything. The man's eyes widened slightly in panic, and he hastily concluded his conversation. He ran to Hunter and seized his hand, shaking it almost too enthusiastically.
"Mr. Redfern! So good to see you here! And what brings you to our little corner of the world?" Clearly, the man already knew what Hunter wanted: a very large sum of money from a very old account he had "inherited" – by this time, he was Hunter Redfern V, as well as Hunters I through IV.
"My fund has reached maturity again. I will collect it now." Hunter smiled, and fixed the man in startling golden eyes. He paled.
"We…uh, don't have the cash on hand at this time, but we can give…"
"Cashier's checks will be fine." Hunter smiled again. It was more a showing of teeth. They looked perfectly normal, except that they were normally perfect. The man deflated in relief, and called out,
"Crystal! Would you please help Mr. Redfern here with his transaction?" He was speaking to the teller Hunter had been looking at before, who had just finished with her last customer. "Take him to your private office." The man hurried off to a back room. With another of her distant smiles, Crystal opened a door in the counter and said, "Follow me."
Her office was small and windowless, with walls of a washed-out gray surrounding a plain, slightly disorganized desk and black swivel chair. The only comfort it offered was a lack of the security cameras that cluttered the walls in the front of the bank. Crystal sat in the swivel chair, and offered Hunter a padded chair in front of her desk. Her fingers flew across her keyboard. From here, Hunter could see that her desk abounded with pictures in standing glass frames: a boy nearly buried in sand, a man and a woman walking into a moonlit ocean, a pink sunrise over a calm sea. He sniffed derisively, but quietly, and was glad to see she hadn't heard. His eyes returned to one of the pictures: the buried boy had her same roiling, grey-blue eyes. Perhaps he was her whelp. Crystal glanced up from her work and saw him looking at the photograph, so he smiled for her benefit.
"Is he yours?" Her distant smile returned, then faded.
"No, he's my nephew. I met him and his parents for a day at the beach." Apparently, she enjoyed stating the obvious. "He's such a sweet kid, isn't he?" Hunter nodded and tried to smile, hoping to encourage her to hurry up with his checks. It failed.
"So, Mr. Redfern, are you building a new summer home?"
His eyes boiled with frustration and remembered fury, but she didn't seem to see.
"No. One my island cottage was destroyed in a…tragic fire. I'm planning to have it rebuilt." No one could have mistaken his next smile for anything but a show of teeth. She wasn't looking. In fact, by now she had printed the checks (there was a $5,000 maximum for any single check, so there were quite a few) and was counting them out onto the table. Hunter noticed the grace of her slender fingers as she laid out each one. There was sand under her fingernails. Very unprofessional.
She finished counting, and slid Hunter a receipt, indicating with her dirty fingernail where he should sign. His pen made an elaborate, incomprehensible flourish on the paper.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Redfern. Here are your checks, and we hope to continue to all your investment needs in the future!" Crystal turned her serene smile on him, and her turbulent eyes met his gleaming golden orbs. Ever so briefly, their fingers touched against the checks, and each other.
Contact!
It was the strangest sensation Hunter had ever known. It was as though two minds, two souls, his and hers, were falling into each other and mingling in that single touch until it was impossible to separate one from the other. It brought with it a kind of psychic ecstasy unrivaled by any physical pleasure, and he found himself in a swirl of her, of her thoughts and memories and presence: he felt sand beneath her feet and heard laughter echoing across time, and turned to see the little boy, her nephew. His roiling blue eyes laughed him back, and his hands, her hands – such graceful fingers bloodied – held a stillborn child in a desperate clutch at those stormy eyes beneath the irreverent glaze of death. I loved him…it was her thought, it was his, it was theirs – for there was no "he" or "she", only they. And she saw him. They saw the father of her precious, lifeless child leave her in his grief – and they saw Hunter kill him for fun. They saw his lawyer, a friend of the family, drop silent tears over the divorce papers – and they saw Hunter kill him for profit. They saw her second fiancé – how everything was new and beautiful and right, until he disappeared – and they saw Hunter kill him for power, fangs red with the last of his life, eyes glowing frozen gold. They saw Hunter's quest for power, his endless search for more – her endless quest for love. But it ends now…yes, it ends now… And it ended. They stood, she gasping, he staring. She had seen everything. All he had ever done, all he had ever wanted. And she gazed up at him still – no terror in her tumbling eyes as they tried to meet his yellow gaze. The cashier's checks lay forgotten on the ground where they had fallen.
"Mr. Redfern…" she managed, "Hunter…" but it was too late for words. Hunter slowly raised his hand as if to caress her cheek, and for a brief moment he saw dolphins playing in the waves of her eyes. He continued to raise his hand, up over her head, fingers slightly curled, locked her eyes in his. He broke her neck in one swift motion. She fell. Hunter bent down, gathered his checks, and turned and walked away.