eyes of the seer – chapter nine

Four Years Later
————————–
“Autumn to winter,
winter into spring,
Spring into summer,
summer into fall,–
So rolls the changing year,
and so we change;
Motion so swift,
we know not that we move.”
- Dinah Maria Mulock

Chapter Nine

Only The Fates knew how much I hated when people kept me waiting.

My fingers turned an unlit cigarette around several times before raising it to my mouth and inserting it between my lips. I dug into my coat for my lighter, flipping the top open and igniting it with one swift motion that might have impressed somebody had they been watching while I did it. The end of the cigarette glowed orange and smoke rose while I thrust my lighter back into my pocket. Blue eyes gazed through the obstruction of sunglasses and cigarette smoke, looking for my target.

I should have never allowed him to live. Each day I permitted him to continue his pitiful existence, I was risking both my neck and my reputation, possibly suggesting that the assassin might be growing soft and merciful while such was not the case. As much as I pondered this paradox myself – if holding my hand indicated a latent weakness rising to the surface – the compulsion which caused me to spare his life dispelled such myths by whispering the reasons why again.

He had ways of locating desired items that left all the seven covens in awe over his scavenging abilities. As such, when Sabrina touched my ear with her cool lips and whispered his name as my next target, I knew I had to use this moment to its fullest before the fires of hell pulled Anthony into damnation. My mistress left for New York and the window of opportunity remained opened for three days. This was the last day, however. The time had come to settle debts with a man living on borrowed time.
I drew from the cigarette again and peered through the smoke for the garishly dressed immortal who enjoyed frequenting this club. Loud music played around me and a thick crowd of mortals choked me with the stench of humanity, causing me to sneer from my position in the shadows, hopeful the vile scent of their sweat would wash off my clothing. With a sigh, I lowered my cigarette from my mouth. My eyes continued to scan the crowd while my thoughts drifted to matters of questioning my sanity once more.

Four years had passed, ticking their interminable minutes and registering one more day following the one prior until the months began to stack up. Time itself held no significance but to count one more stroke upon the wall. One more day elapsed; one more year winding to a close. Such seemed to be the unbroken melody that made up my existence, punctuated by the plethora of concerns one who called themselves an assassin could be expected to face. Robin’s forewarning that my peaceful existence as a neophyte was to perish could not have been more apropos. I sensed it as I rose each evening.

I was a shadow and, yet, I was infamous. All who gazed upon my countenance knew their time was through and nobody saw me whom I did not wish. All knew the name of Flynn, though, and the name possessed enough of a reputation to send shivers down every immortal spine within the city. I relished it, savoring even the plots formed against my life by conspirators who all met their end by my hand in time. Death saturated my life with crimson-colored decadence.

It evoked the slightest bit of unease, that I had become this monster after only five years.

“Losing your bloody edge,” I muttered, dismissing the thought of unease just as quickly as it surfaced. I knew what caused this instability within – a dream that still taunted me even after several weeks had elapsed since I woke with its images fresh in my mind. I relieved it each time I considered what placed me on my current course. The unconscious ruminations were hardly random; they formed a memory from my mortal days I had never regained. And to recall a long lost experience after five years was nothing short of a miracle. I sighed at the notion and glanced at my watch, focusing my attention on the task at hand again.

Just then, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

My head rose and my eyes changed focus. Through the crowd, I spotted him strolling across the dance floor, a stark contrast to the men and women dressed in shiny, modern material. He donned a crushed velvet suit. I rolled my eyes in response, stealing a moment to observe how often our kind indulged in the most garish fashions possible. His pale skin nearly glowing from the combination of dark clothing and strobe lights, Anthony seemed ready to add a flashing sign advertising what he was to his ensemble. The woman holding onto his arm added to the absurdity with her too-thick makeup and promiscuous attire.

Anthony kissed her hand as she slid onto a chair. Mortal woman. I stepped from the shadows and leaned against a post, drawing from my cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke large enough to give myself away. The movement and the puff of white worked its magic. Anthony turned his head, spotting me, while I shot him an impatient glare.

“Excuse me, my dear,” Anthony said to his companion. “A little business to attend to.” He winked and she watched while he nodded at me and cocked his head toward the back. I stood straight, pivoting to stroll for the door to the alleyway running behind this godforsaken establishment. Not a moment too soon. Had I been forced to wait any longer, I might have had to murder somebody.

Once outside, a rush of cold air hit me and felt reborn again. The door shut, drowning out the noise from inside, and blessed peace wrapped its soothing arms around me, stilling my disgust, if just for a moment. I strolled to the other side of the vacant street and leaned against an adjacent building, finishing my cigarette and flicking its remnant onto the pavement. No sooner did the depleted nicotine stick smash into the macadam in a display of sparks and ash did the door swing upon once more, bringing with it a painful reminder of the music and the stench from inside.

Anthony looked at me and smiled while the door clucked shut behind him. I breathed a sigh of relief as the night became still once more. “Flynn!” Anthony said, the tone of his voice making it sound as though we were long-lost friends. “I didn’t realize you were to return so shortly! You certainly don’t waste time, do you?”

“I told you two nights, Anthony,” I said, without moving from my position. “And you agreed. It has been two nights and here I am.”

“And I should have known Flynn is a man of his word.” Anthony adjusted a puffed-out scarf tied around his neck, another embellishment making his entire outfit look all the more idiotic. “I trust the arrangement we agreed upon is still favorable?”

My facial expression remained stoic. “Were you able to find it?”

Anthony chuckled. “I am able to find anything, given enough persuasion. I spent the better part of last evening interrogating mortals and bleeding them dry to find its current owner. One of my more daunting challenges… But, I found it.”

“Let me see it.”

“Ut… ut… ut…” Anthony lifted a finger, wagging it back and forth in a gesture which threatened to make me lose my self-restraint. I ignored it, but only for the time being. “First the answer to my question. You told me that if I procured your trinket, you would offer me protection from Sabrina. Is this agreement still favorable?”

“I have not indicated otherwise.” I glared as much as possible through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. Stepping forward a pace, I folded my arms across my chest, feeling the hilt of one of my knives press against my body from its position underneath my heavy wool coat. “Now, allow me to see it. My end of the agreement is contingent upon this being the item I requested.”

“Oh, it is,” he said, slipping his hand in his jacket and producing a wallet. “I recognized it instantly from your description.” I watched him open the billfold, about to break into a sweat over seeing this item I sold in haste return after four years. The action of leather unfolding took on painful slowness. Anthony reached inside, but then paused. I could have spat acid when he closed the wallet again.

“You know, Flynn,” he said, placing the hand holding the wallet on his hip and reaching into his coat again with his other hand. A pack of cigarettes emerged from within. One wound up perched between his lips while he fumbled for his lighter. “I still find it queer that an immortal with your reputation asked for something like this. I have fielded some fairly unusual requests and discovered a great deal about other vampires as a result, but when you told me you wanted something…” He chuckled, exhaling smoke through his nostrils while pocketing his lighter. “… so feminine, I was taken aback. I thought, if anything, you would desire some sort of weapon.”

Drawing a deep breath inward, I held it long enough to steady my anger. “Anthony, as I told you before, this is none of your fucking business.”

“Oh come now, Flynn. Indulge me.” He smiled. “Tell me of its relevance.”

“I…” The word emerged through the precarious hold I maintained on my own rage. My sharp tone of voice turned vitriolic. “… would sooner slit your throat and take your wallet while you choke on a puddle of your own blood. Now…” I cocked my head toward the wallet. “Let us finish our business with one another before I change my mind.”

Anthony huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Now, now, now. No need to get snarky; it’s a simple question.”

“And my response a simple answer. Leave it the fuck alone.”

“You know what your problem is.” With one hand, Anthony slid the wallet back into his coat. The other hand pointed his cigarette at me while he spoke. “You’re too intense, Flynn, for such a young immortal. You take your job too seriously and became reclusive and arrogant as a result. I can assure you, this will earn you no friends amongst the vampire collective as a whole.”

“As if I desired such a thing.” My arms fell to my sides. I began to step around Anthony, itching to instill the fear of God in him. “You are all pompous bastards – the lot of you – and your ways irritate me. I could not care less about the opinions of such impotent mortal lovers.”

“What did you call me?” Anthony’s eyes widened first, then narrowed.

The corner of my mouth curled in a grin. Parting enough to show teeth. “I called you a motherfucking mortal lover. What do you have to say about that?”

Anthony gritted his teeth, tossing aside his cigarette. “I would say that if being something other than the monster you are makes me a mortal lover, then being Sabrina’s trained pet makes you little more than the same brand of trash she is. Refuse.” He scoffed. “Utter refuse. Chosen son of an inferior coven! You have yours coming to you someday, I can promise you that.”

“Is this a threat?”

“More than a threat, it is a fact. Even I see the jealousy your brethren harbor for you and such jealousy can only be allowed to fester for so long. They’ll surrender your head on a platter the first moment somebody offers thirty pieces of silver.” He smiled. “You may have the exterior of a warrior, but you have the heart of a lap dog. And I will not be insulted by such a subordinate creature.”

“You’ll see the teeth of this lap dog soon enough if you fail to produce that which you promised me, Anthony.” Two pointed eyeteeth emerged from their slumber as I ceased pacing, balling my gloved hands into fists. “Or need I run through to prove my point?”

Anthony hissed, his own fangs slipping out and his eyes shooting figurative flames of wrath. “Bare your teeth at me will you? I was eating the flesh of children before you were suckling on your mother’s breast.”

“And I have slain immortals for less arrogance than that.” Faster than the action of lighting a cigarette, I slipped both hands under the folds of my coat and drew a set of blades, holding out both knives for Anthony to see. “Eager to die?” I asked. “Do you have any notion of how quickly I could make you dust on the pavement?”

Anthony sneered. “Where other men fight with fists, Flynn carries knives.”

“Better a blade than a stake.” I lunged with a knife, but missed on purpose. Anthony dodged out of the way, his grin turning smug while I held back any facial response. Including the sadistic grin that wished to emerge from toying with him. “I find stakes idiotic,” I continued. “Don’t you?”

“Over-inflated mythological devises, much like yourself.”

I lunged again, this time cutting into his jacket, forcing him to retreat a few paces. Anthony’s eyes darted to the cut and back to me as if afraid to allow me out of his sight. I smirked. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” I asked. “Coming from a vampire who dresses like the ringmaster of a circus and takes the company of mortals to cover for his inadequacies? I hope to heaven that if I am as pitiful of a creature at your age, somebody does me the favor of sending me to hell.”

He hissed once more. This time, as he dove for me, I dodged the attack and punched him to the ground. He spilled out and moaned, but rose to his feet. Anthony charged for me. I anticipated the action, though, and kicked him in the chest with such force that he flew against the building. His head impacted with the concrete; a solid thud preceded a long, pain-laden groan.

Springing toward him, I closed the distance between us and plunged a dagger deep into his stomach. Anthony screamed and I stepped back, watching him struggle, but only injure himself more in the process. The hilt of my knife jutted from his abdomen. I had him pinned.

I turned the other knife around in my hand, surveying the ruins of a vampire with my sadistic smirk only growing more devious the longer I beheld him. “My, what an uncomfortable position to be in,” I said, shaking my head. “And to think, I have another knife here that… ah yes, wait…” I held up a finger and lifted the blade close to my ear. “Yes, yes, I do believe this one says it wishes to know how black your heart is, Anthony. I am powerless to resist when these blades become adamant. I do not know if I will be able to stop it…”

“Alright!” Anthony yelled. He moaned once more and gritted his teeth, eyes clenching in a grimace. “Alright, I won’t ask any more bloody questions, Flynn. Just let me down.”

“I beg your pardon?” I lowered the knife, twirling it around once before slipping it back into his sheath and adjusting my coat. “I believe you forgot to say please.”

“Please! Please, please, please… Bloody hell, let me down. I’m begging you.”

“That is more like it.” Walking closer to Anthony, I wrapped my fingers around the knife’s hilt, but leaned forward and made certain to bare fangs again as I spoke. “Remember who you are trifling with. I would slice you from neck to stomach and leave you bleeding on the street to watch the sun rise. I suggest, when I remove this blade, you give me what I came for quickly and stop wasting my fucking time.”

I ripped the knife from his body before he had the chance to answer and watched with an apathetic air as he crumpled to the gritty pavement again. Strolling away from the wounded vampire, I produced a cloth from my pocket and wiped the blade clean, my eyes raising toward the sky to gage the time. I frowned and sheathed this blade as well. “Some time before dawn, please,” I said. “It is not getting any earlier.”

“Fuck,” Anthony muttered while clutching onto the building and coming to a tentative stand. Pausing to touch his wound, he winced and raised his crimson-coated fingers up to his line of vision. “I had best make this our last encounter. Just ruined a perfectly good suit.”

I said nothing in return. Anthony rummaged through his coat again and unfolded his wallet without hesitation. As he opened it, that sense of time standing still drifted from the creases of the leather and his bloody fingers held my attention captive while they reached inside. A gold chain gradually came to view, but as he raised his hand, I saw the pendant emerge from its hiding place and fought the urge to draw a sharp breath inward at the sight of what he held.

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Is this what you requested?” he asked.

I strolled forward with more confidence in my gait than I possessed at the moment and snatched the necklace away. “Yes,” I said, my voice subdued in such a queer manner, it struck even me as odd. I cleared my throat to mask the slip in composure and stared at the pendant as with one gloved hand opened, I lowered it into my palm. Allowing my thoughts to drift, I visited another time and place. Back to when my name was Peter and I possessed the pulse of a mortal man.

It was supposed to be an engagement ring. That was why I withdrew several hundred dollars from the trust fund my aunt established before she succumbed to cancer. The money from my parents’ life insurance policies and the profits from selling my father’s farm, all meant to sustain me through college and medical school, but as my residency began to draw to a close, I found myself fixated on the future and came to the conclusion that the time was right to propose to my beloved Lydia. That was why I found myself at the jewelry store.

I emerged with something other than a ring, however.

On this side of my dance with immortality, I could not recall why I purchased the necklace for her until visited by the dream. Then all at once, this calloused heart felt a chill cross over its grave and relived the memory as though it had some relevance to the grander scheme of things. I recalled the jeweler looking across the counter at an indecisive young man, watching as I studied several diamond rings and rejected each one. Finally, he huffed and said, “Mr. Dawes, if you’re not sure about this, then it’s probably not the best time to propose to her, is it?”

Looking up at him, I furrowed my brow and frowned, glancing from his face to the counter and back again. I frowned at my hesitation, yet allowed myself to peruse the rest of his wares until my eyes settled on it. Gilded and Gothic, it fit her personality better than the cut pieces of stone I had been studying anyway. “Well, I need to get something for her,” I said to the crotchety old bastard. “It’s her birthday in a few days.”

My eyes continued to admire the pendant, taking in all of its intricacies. Two hearts, one on top of the other, with a rose draped across the two and one the rose’s thorns pricking the hearts. It was something so intricate and yet, so macabre and at once I knew Lydia was meant to have it. It was a perfect emblem for her.

I recalled purchasing it. And I recalled giving it to her. That was another memory causing me some degree of…

“Flynn?”

Shaking myself from my thoughts, my eyes lifted to engage Anthony’s once more. He clutched his stomach and scowled at me. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” I nodded and thrust the necklace into my pocket. “You’re a clever bastard, I will give you that.”

“Good. Then our agreement is intact?”

“Oh yes, yes. I shall ensure Sabrina does not touch a hair upon your head.”

“Praise be to the Fates.” Anthony sighed, glancing at his blood-soaked hand. “I feared when we first met that she had ordered you to do me in. Believe me, Flynn, I’ll not be crossing your path again, except on accid…”

As he looked at me again, I reached underneath my coat and drew a knife. The handle left my palm after no more than two seconds cradled there. With a deft flick of my wrist, I whipped it toward Anthony, whose eyes became wide as the blade plunged deep into his chest.

I grinned. “No, Anthony. Not even on accident.”

What had once been Anthony burned into dust and descended onto the ground as ash and discarded clothing. My knife bounced off the pavement with a clank and came to settle next to his remains while a gust of wind begun carrying his remnant off into the nether. I strolled toward the blade, exhaling a breath I did not know I was holding, and paused to clean my weapon again before I slipped it into its sheath. My eyes remained set upon his ashes, though. “I said Sabrina would not. I did not guarantee the same for me.”

With a quick adjustment of my coat and a moment stolen to run my fingers through my spiky locks, I set out with my pearl of great price. As I headed back for my coven, though, I knew I had just played a dangerous game and could yet face wrath for the indulgence. Sabrina’s eyes beheld more those days, seeing through a network of spies who usually worked to my benefit. In this singular action, though, they became my bane. I had to do it, though; one memory hinted at other secrets lying in wait without telling me just what existed behind the veil. All I knew was I wanted to unravel it. I wanted to know just who I was at long last.

So, I lit another cigarette, then slipped into the shadows to seek a proper victim before retiring for the day. And I hoped this small measure of insubordination would not come back to haunt me the next day.

Story Beginning | Chapter Ten

~ by peterdawes on June 30, 2009.