For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.
Chapter 42, "Slayer's Duty pt 1"
She glided through the crowd on the dance floor making hardly a ripple. She had that talent when she wanted to, to pass without drawing much attention. It helped that she was in LA, a land swarming with beauties begging to be noticed. Anyone not shouting isn't heard. A few should have noticed her though. Her very presence should have set off alarm bells in their heads. People who had spent lifetimes sweeping crowds for just such people, the ones that were dangerous and wouldn't tolerate being prey without a fight. She slid up to the bar and flagged down a bartender.
" Drambuie" was her request, holding her fingers about two and a half inches apart as she pushed her mass of coal black hair behind one ear with her other hand, fixing the bartender with slate grey eyes over the rim of a pair of mid-eighties Wayfarer sunglasses.
"Drambuie, right. I think we have some over here" he replied, a little startled by such a young person requesting it, she couldn't be much more than 22 or 23. The usual drinker for that was your mid-30s to late 40s type, and he didn't get many in this club. He took another look at her as he brought her the drink. She was dressed simply but well, her clothes (except for the sunglasses) weren't dated. She was wearing a dark grey tee shirt, loose black pants and a kind of shapeless black cloth jacket that reminded him a little of the field jacket he wore in the military.
"Thanks, keep it handy'" she replied as she slid a ten-dollar bill across the bar and glided back out to the crowd. She slid along the edge of the dance floor, leaving in and out with no apparent plan or destination. The few who took notice in her passing quickly moved on, vaguely unsettled by her but not necessarily realizing it is her causing their feelings. She stopped her aimless wandering and ventured out into one of the darker sections of the dance floor, drink still in hand. A couple was dancing in one of the darkest corners. This was where she moved. She smoothly stepped between the tall gyrating guy and his 'date'. The young girl immediately went ballistic.
"Hey! Who the fuck do you think you are? Miss tall dark and stupid! He's my date! Just waddle your ass somewhere else before I…" She falls silent mid rant as the tall girl leans into her boyfriend, whispers something, and he disappears in a cloud of dust. The tall one turned, looked the speechless girl, said quietly "You're welcome", and glided off into the crowd in search of something.
She came upon a group of five or six people in an alcove quietly sipping their drinks and watching the crowd like people in the supermarket looking at the lobster tank. She slowly stepped into the alcove with them, weaving a little as she sipped the last of her drink. She made a disappointed face as she reached the bottom of the glass.
"All gone…..it's all gone," she pouted as she stumbled into one of the alcoves occupants, a rather large guy dressed in a business suit who inexplicably disappeared into a puff of dust. The looks of shock on the others faces, as the realized what happened were priceless. By the time they had their game faces on and started to react, they were already behind the curve. A long thin double-edged sword had appeared in the woman's hands. She was lopping limbs off at an unbelievable rate, only to have them vanish into dust before they hit the floor. She finished five vampires off with a speed and skill that made it seem that they just vanished. The sixth she had pressed up against the wall with one had on her throat, holding her about 6" above the floor. All pretence of a drunken floozy gone, replaced with the true image of a tall lithe killing machine, impossibly fast, impossibly strong.
"Where is she?" The woman punctuating every soft-spoken word with a squeeze of her murderously strong fingers on the Vampires throat.
"Don't know who you're talking about! I really don't!" The vamp squeaked, her voice trembling. She saw her own death in this ones eye. This one had already killed her master, the strongest most powerful vampire she had ever known.
"Seek her out, I must find the dark-haired slayer. Tell her to meet me at the St. Michel Cemetery at dawn any day this week. I have need to speak with her. To deliver this message, I will let you to continue to exist. Fail me in this, and I will hunt you down and stake you out on the beach to see the sunrise Do you believe me in this?" she asked staring directly into the demon things eyes.
"How am I supposed to find the slayer and live long enough to talk to her and…"she stopped mid-rant as her head was bounced off the wall.
"I said, do you believe that I will do these things" She growled, her face inches from the vampires face.
"Yes, yes I do" she gulped.
"Good, don't forget it, otherwise I will have to find another messenger and you will no longer serve a purpose." She released the vamp from her hold, letting her drop to the floor in a heap. "Now, begone."
"What are you?" the vampress queried as she rose holding her sore throat.
'In the old country, Ravens were considered a harbinger of death, a kind of living breathing prophecy. I am Rhavyn."
The Vampire ran from her presence. Rhavyn walked back up to the bar, feeling tired but not of body. She pushed the sunglasses up onto her head as she got to the bar. The bartender remembered her and brought another glass of Drambuie.
