Abandon - Act 3
He slowly closed his briefcase with a subdued click. There was the constant thrum of the engines and the gentle vibration through his seat that kept him awake all day. He hated flying during the days. His window screen was pulled down tight and he rested low in his seat to avoid the rays of the blasted sun from the other passengers’ windows.
He always preferred flying at night, but his business was pressing and he couldn’t be as selective as in the old days. He spread his hands across the black leather top of the briefcase. Inside the inner pocket was the key he had been assigned to carry. The key that would change the course of history to favor those who lived in the old days. Those like himself.
He smiled. What was riding in the cargo hold was beyond anything this world had seen in centuries. In millennia even. Soon they would reach the great America he had heard about. Soon the Nosphorus would awake.
Deep in the darkness of the jet’s underbelly, packed between crates of suitcases and miscellaneous baggage, a simple steel coffin rested in a long wooden crate, the coffin wrapped in many chains, the crate – a simple hasp and padlock for which there was but one key.
Resting comfortably inside the steel of the coffin, a corpse was sleeping, ready to be woken in New York.
“That is exactly what I’m talking about,” Addison waved his hands adamantly. “You were given a simple task: track the motorcycle gang and learn their intentions, but you couldn’t keep your stake in your pocket, could you?”
Niki rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault they happened to run into each other...” She shrugged innocently, but Addison glared, knowing full well her part in it. “They were clashing cultures, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“Now we don’t know their reason for coming to this part of the state,” the Watcher muttered angrily. “We know nothing about their involvement in the trail of murders spanning New Jersey,” he sighed, shaking his head, “we don’t even know if they were responsible.” As though Niki weren’t paying attention, which was true, he raised his voice. “Do you see how that is going to be a problem?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “It’s kinda simple: if the murders keep up – I killed the wrong vamps, though there’s really no such thing – and if not, then I just go out and keep killing vamps until the murders stop.” She frowned at him in irritation. “I don’t see how this is a problem!”
“It’s a problem because you’re talking about human lives!” Addison shouted, slamming his fist down onto the kitchen table top, making the glasses jump. “A fact you seem to care less and less about with each passing day!” He stormed across the room and switched on the television. A newscaster was reporting next to a crime scene in which several body bags were being sealed up. “They are human beings,” he shouted across the small distance from the living room. “They go about their bloody merry ways until a vampire stumbles across them and then it’s toe tag city. What you don’t seem to understand is that it’s your responsibility to prevent that! Each and every one of them – do you understand me?” he demanded. “Each and every one’s blood is on your lazy, thrill seeking hands. Yes, it is kinda simple,” he spat, “you’re not doing your job. I don’t give a rat’s ass how many gangs you can get to flatten each other in one night! Your job is to listen to the Council and kill whom we say you are to kill and track whom we tell you to track. Had you listened to me, these three people–” Addison rapped the glass of the television screen, “might still be alive and our harmless little Hell’s Angels might be on their way out of town.”
The Watcher marched back into the kitchen to the sullen Slayer. “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it?” he demanded. “How can you care so little for them that you ignore me?” His voice dropped in volume as he saw she was now paying attention. He slowly sat in the chair opposite her. “I know you hate this. I know you hate me. You always have.” She looked up, her eyes conveying exactly what he feared – confirmation. “For God’s sake, don’t punish them because I ruined your life.”
Niki stood with a crash, knocking her chair back onto the floor. “I don’t punish them.” She snatched her leather jacket from the coatrack by the door. “They punish me.”
Addison looked sadly to the window as the door slammed shut yet again.
Niki walked dejectedly down the dark streets of the inner city. Sirens wailed in the distance. There were always sirens. Why? Why alert everyone when something terrible has happened? Shouldn’t we know it has happened? Shouldn’t we expect it? Is there a vampire waiting in this alley? In the next one? What’s the difference?
She found herself counting the gritty footfalls which were approaching from behind. They were quicker than her own, but they were slowing as they grew louder, falling into step with her own slow paces.
“Hey there,” said the familiar voice. She barely glanced up to see the man with short cropped blond hair who now walked beside her. They looked out of place, walking together – he in his brown blazer and khakis and she in her threadbare white T-shirt and leather jacket.
Without any invitation, he slid his hand inside her jacket and around her waist, drawing her closer to him as their footsteps became indistinguishable. “What’s wrong?” he frowned, letting her pull herself free from his embrace after a moment.
She stopped in the middle of the street and turned to him. What was he to her? A distraction? Definitely. An addiction, like all her others? “Nothing,” she said quietly. “Let’s go somewhere.”
Pearce watched in silent fascination as the two crossed the crowded bar for one of the privet back rooms. He knew who she was. And he was sure she knew he knew. Somehow, she didn’t care. It certainly wasn’t the reaction he had expected. This entire club was filled with vampires, and yet she ignored them, intent on the man beside her and the back room where they were headed. Then the scent found his vampire nostrils. Lust. They lusted for each other. Was that more powerful than her lust to kill his kind? What kind of animal was she?
After almost ten minutes of staring into his drink and mulling over what he had thought would be his first battle with the Slayer, he stood and followed them. He had to know.
Their bodies rose and fell like some liquid creature trapped amid the sheets. The gasps made the vampire’s heart race. There was nothing like human passion to stir his hunger. The vulnerability — the sheer exposure of human mating made him lust for his own passionate encounter. He turned from the curtain and moved purposefully across the bar.
They weren’t supposed to be vampires here, but they couldn’t afford to screen everyone, so they simply ignored the problem. They also weren’t supposed to serve people to customers. But they did.
The large man put his hand on Pearce’s chest as the vampire moved for the most secluded door. “Far enough, skinny,” the bouncer boomed. “No one goes in without Vince’s say so.” He leaned in close to Pearce’s ear. “And Vince don’t like vampires.”
Pearce made an unconcerned gesture, somewhere between a shrug and a wave, allowing his sleeve to fall back and the silver chain to flash in the directed light. “But what wouldn’t Vince do for a friend of a friend?”
The bouncer caught the vamp’s wrist and brought it closer to his face. IXI. He squinted, then released the wrist. “In you go. Rules are: one person a night. You leave the body here–” he held up a finger in warning, “and no turning ‘em. I don’t want any messes like they had over at O’Shay’s.”
Pearce smiled as the bouncer stepped aside. “Don’t you need Vince’s say so?”
The bouncer smirked and tapped a finger to a small blue sticker on his big chest.
Hello, my name is
Vince
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