>From argent@iastate.edu Thu Feb 3 11:47:04 1994 You have received a copy of perhaps the world's first shareware story. I have put a lot of work into this, and plan on putting some more. Feedback is welcome. I feel it looks better on paper, but that's probably just me. Anyway, send me anything that you feel appropriate, whether it be a postcard, a six of your favorite beverage, a story of your own, money, or a thought provoking letter (preferably with suggestions for improvement and corrections). Feel free to send this story to whomever you feel would be interested. I freely give permission for anyone to do anything with this file as long as it remains completely intact, along with this preface, and no profit is gained. This permission will remain valid until 5/19/94, at which time I will hopefully send out the rewrite. Christopher Jorgensen c/o The Great Grendel-Khan 2929 West St. Apt. #1 Ames, Ia. 50010 please email argent@iastate.edu upon receipt. The Dying Ritual They spread fire under him, and while fanning the flames they tightened the wheel further. The wheel was completely smeared with blood, and the heap of coals was being quenched by the drippings of gore, and pieces of flesh were falling off the axles of the machine. Although the ligaments joining his bones were already severed, the courageous youth, worthy of Abraham, did not groan, but as though transformed by fire into immortality he nobly endured the rackings. The Fourth Book of The Maccabees 9:19-20 Welcome To the World of Pain Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies; thou anointest my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Psalm 23:4-6 The Dying Ritual Part 1 Welcome to the World of Pain Of Death and Dying The Devil Silhouette The Beginning of the End Willie Peat Thief Killing Time Lisa Confessions The Night Love The Banquet A Little Death Leaving the Curse Behind Eternally Undead To Kill a Thief Lessons Learned A Second Crime Oh, but to Die! An End of Sorts Of Death and Dying A hot August day, 1962, a seventeen year old young man sold his soul for immortality and a two-headed American silver dollar. I looked at the intercom button, considered pressing it, but decided instead to fidget with the silver dollar in my hand, a worn 1945, about the only thing I treated as a luck charm. "What the hell?" I muttered to no one. There was no click as I pressed the button. There was a buzz, then entirely too much silence before an annoying nasal female voice spoke. "Yes." "Any appointments?" "Two sir." Silence. I hate her. I really do. "Yes?" "Yes what sir?" One, two, three... "Who the fuck are they?" "Oh, why didn't you ask?" ...four, five... "I just did." "Your daughter will be here in about an hour, and the Devil would like to talk to you at your earliest convenience." "The Devil can wait, send Crime in when she arrives." I flipped the silver coin, caught it, slapped it down on the back of my hand--Heads--and reached out to turn off the intercom. "Oh, and sir, you have a client waiting in the outer office." I set the silver coin on my desk top. "Why didn't--" "Didn't ask." ...six... I got Markham from Crime. Markham was unsuccessful at her chosen profession, but Crime felt sorry for her, and talked me into taking her. "He didn't have an appointment?" "No." "Been checked?" "Of course. What are you paying me for?" "Well?" "Well what sir?" "Is he carrying?" "Yes, .45, left shoulder holster." "Send him in." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I'm sure. And quit fucking talking through your nose." I shut off the intercom. It didn't worry me too much having someone come in my office with a gun. Why should it? My clothes all have a special bullet resistant weave running through them. Even my underwear. It's the layering of the weave that makes it effective. It was only a short wait before my door opened. A nervous young man walked in. He was sweating, and his hand shook as he wiped his forehead. I could smell his fear. "Sit down," I said, motioning to the chair centered on the floor, in front of my desk. I stood up as he sat down, and held out my hand. I've got manners. As I shook his hand I didn't request that he give me his gun. Bad etiquette to ask for someone's gun. I know I wouldn't give mine up for anything. Besides, a known threat is usually harmless. His hand was hot and wet. Mine dry. "My name's on the door. What's yours?" Actually, there were two names on the door, Bartok and Bobscobell, neither which were mine, but he didn't need to know this. "Thomas, or ah Tom, if you like." I reseated myself, picked up my luck charm, and flipped it. Heads. "What can I do for you Thomas?" "I'd a...." I waited. He didn't finish. "Why don't you have a cigarette? You look nervous." "Don't smoke. I'd--like someone...." I hate people who don't finish sentences. Guessing games suck. What was bothering him? Assassinations are commonplace, I wondered if it was because I looked 17. There's only one thing to make a guy as nervous as he was, and that happens to be the opposite sex. I knew he wasn't here for that, so I decided to play with him. "A girl? Sorry, that's not my department." It was my daughter's, but I somehow failed to mention this. He laughed. Well, not exactly laughed, more like a dry chuckle. "No, not sex. I'd like someone killed." Finally, a complete sentence--two even. We were getting somewhere. Killing, now that was my department. But why did he seem frightened? "Who?" "Caine Adamsen." "What can you give me on him?" "Nothing." "Description?" "No." "Place of birth or where he lives now?" "No." I let out a sigh. Just then there was a knock at the door. My daughter stepped in. The room got darker, but then my daughter has a way of doing that to rooms. It's almost as if she's made of night. "Hello love." It was then that I saw the size of her eyes. I asked her what was wrong. "Nothing. I'll wait in the outer office. Didn't realize you had a client," she said over her shoulder. She closed the door. My daughter is not one to easily lose composure. When she is disturbed, then there is reason. I didn't know what to think of this. I didn't even look at Thomas for a bit, so I didn't get his reaction to Crime. I did have the feeling that they knew each other though. But back to the business at hand. "You want someone killed, and all you can give me is a name? I can't just order an assassination on a name. What happens if the wrong guy's taxed? Have anything else?" "Yes. I mean no. I have a picture too." He handed me a white envelope. I flipped the coin. Heads again. "Why do you want him done in?" I don't usually ask this, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to touch this one. He started to turn gray, like he was about to be sick or commit suicide or something. "I ah...." Incomplete sentences again. Guessing game time. "Can't say?" "No" "Fine. You know this is going to cost." "Yes. Here's what I can afford to pay." He handed me a piece of paper. I looked at it. The number written there was about four times what I was going to ask, and I was going to ask a lot. "How much do you think--" He interrupted me. Good thing too, or I might have actually told him that I was willing to take less, and God forbid that I be honest. "That is what I can pay. It's all yours when it's done." I handed him a Guild form and a pen. "Fill this out. Pay special attention to blocks 12 and 23. Make sure you spell all names correctly. He finished and looked up. "And sign here." He did. Thomas Smith. Smith was one of my best customers. He ranked right up there with Jones and that Doe fellow. I didn't care who he was, but Guild standards had to be met, this form was one of them. I guess it has to do with taxes and all, but anyone in my profession would be stupid not to pay taxes. Let me explain a few things. The government, or as it is more often called, the Guild, requires licensing for any activity that would otherwise be illegal, such as prostitution, drug selling, or well, assassination is always a good example. Anyone who operates certain activities outside of the Guild, or without paying the full amount of taxes, is considered to be rogue, and the Guild has its own ways of dealing with this type of individual. It has been a long time since I've heard of a rogue assassin, since the beginning days of the Guild in fact. The only assassin I know of who would be good enough to operate without the Guild is Silhouette, and as far as I know even he pays taxes. It's a little more common for other professions to have rogues, but even this is rare. If an individual pays taxes, he is a Guild asset. He is then immune from any Guild assassin or assassin brokerage like mine. He is considered to be 'Protected.' The only people who don't pay taxes, but are still Protected, are politicians and Council members. No one would be stupid enough to kill a politician, and Council members are next to ghosts. They hide well. Any person who does not pay taxes is a Guild debit. It is to the benefit of the Guild if these people are removed. It is upon these that I make my money. Your average citizens do not pay taxes, making them fair game. The funding of the Guild is carried out completely by licensing of certain activities and taxes. But I forget myself. I looked again to Thomas. "Payment to be received on completion," I said. "Have a nice day." Smith left my office rubbing his finger. Most assassins, or assassin brokers like myself, demand payment up front. I don't. I don't like front money. No, only payment for a job well done. I'm not worried about a client skipping town either. My little pen isn't just a pen. It records DNA, blood-type and fingerprints. I just feed this information into the Guild computer, and anytime the person in question uses a credit card or phone or tries to leave the city I'll find out. There's no way out of this city without my finding out in time to stop it. Intercom button. No buzz. Button again. Buzz. Silence, then a nasal, "Yes?" Markham can turn the intercom on in her office and it doesn't buzz in mine. That way I need not be disturbed while I'm with a client. There was only one drawback to this. If I had to press it more than once it meant that Markham was eavesdropping. She did this a lot. "Send in Crime." "She's gone sir. Said she'd be back." "Very well." Intercom off. The Devil "You may appear." Nothing happened. Ah right, the coin. I picked it up and repeated myself. "I am here," the Devil said. "What is it You want?" "Immortality." "Oh really? I thought You already had that." "I want yours back." "Cancel a contract? Ha! Never. You will have my soul, to do with as you please, for eternity, on the day I die, but until that time I have immortality for as long as I so choose." The Devil licked His lips. His tongue was silver. I wondered if He made it that way as some kind of joke. Nah, didn't really strike me as the comedian type. I was curious as to why the Devil wanted me to give up immortality. I mean eventually I would get sick of life and consign myself to Hell. I knew this and He knew this, so what was His hurry? "What's Your hurry?" I asked. The Devil disappeared. There was a bang as displaced air crashed in upon itself, signaling His departure. A little piece of paper was laying on the ground. I picked it up, and read it. "The contract reads that you only retain Immortality as long as you have the coin." --Satan-- How rude. He didn't even answer my question. Silhouette After I ran the name Caine Adamsen though the Guild computer, and found out that he was taxable, I picked up the phone, and dialed the number of the best assassin I know of (712-239-4295, in case you're interested). A large stylized 'S' appeared on my video screen. It had the head of a snake and a dagger for a tail. Poison dripped off the snake's fangs and the blade. Showy pretentious bastard. I waited. The snake's head rotated to face the screen and slowly enlarged until it filled it. Its tongue slid out and flicked at the dripping poison. A voice spoke. "Speak. I am receiving," it said. There are certain things one has to put up with when dealing with the best, and Silhouette was the best. I didn't have to like it, but I did have to live with it. I've never seen Silhouette, nor do I know his real name. I'd like to keep it this way. "Assignment." "Who?" "Caine Adamsen." "Fine. Standard fee. Send all subject information across the line." "You already have it." "Just a name?" "And a picture." "Double fee plus expenses, or forget it." "Fine." I was happy. I'd still be making an insanely large profit. Even after assassin fees and Guild taxes. I took the envelope, opened it, and set the picture down on my office's flatbed scanner. I sent the picture. I then burned it. Assassinations, as I have explained, are not illegal, but then nothing is stopping revenge by a grieving family member (except Guild policies on rogue assassins, but these don't do you much good if you're dead). I have never liked to keep anything associated with my profession around the office. Even the forms I use can be read in more than one way. They say 'Order Form' at the top. You figure it out. A dagger stabbed down in front of the snake's head for a moment, then the screen went black. He would contact me for payment, when done. I hit the intercom once again. It buzzed. I waited. There was the usual silence, and more silence. ...eight, nine, fine then, ten! Now I'm pissed. "Hello? Ms. Markham. Yoo hoo, anyone out there?" sweetness and light, that's me. No secretary. This bothered me. I was spooked. She'd never leave without telling me--never. Adrenaline was pumping. I started to sweat. Bad sign. I opened my desk drawer, and drew out a .38. Not much, but it was all I had in the office. I preferred it to most larger things anyway. The door started to open. I put four holes in it. I heard a body drop on the third shot, but I fired again anyway. What can I say? I was nervous. I vaulted the desk, rolled across the floor, leaned against the wall, and cautiously opened the door. My secretary was laying in a large pool of her blood. She was a shitty whore, that's why Crime fired her, and she was an even shittier secretary, but she hadn't deserved to die. No, I didn't shoot her. Her throat was cut, nice clean incision too. Whoever had tried to open my office door would have had to step right over her. The Beginning of the End My daughter was laying about five feet away. She looked unconscious. I glanced at the monitors on Ms. Markham's desk. We were the only ones in any of the offices. I put my gun away, stood up, and walked over to Crime. I took her wrist, and checked her pulse. I didn't get one. No, she wasn't dead. She was still warm and breathing. I'm just not a nurse. I reached out to slap her awake, but she opened her eyes just then. A knife suddenly appeared in her hand. There was already blood on it. She thrust the knife for my throat. I caught her hand, drew my .38 once again, and politely planted it between my Crime's eyes. "Drop it or I'll shoot you," I said. "You already did, you prick!" she spat. I love great family relationships. Crime wears the same protective weave that I do. If I had shot her then this was the only reason for her still being alive. She wasn't even bleeding. "Drop it Crime, now!" She did. I picked it up. Six inches of blade, wet with blood. I kept my gun aimed at her head. "You kill Markham?" "She was eavesdropping. I had to." That was why I had had to hit the intercom button twice. "So, she does--did that all the time. I only had a client." "Who?" she said as she got up, (I had decided to let her. She wouldn't actually try to kill me) and with a little difficulty, sat in Markham's chair. "You know that's confidential." "Who?" I figured I owed it to her. After all, it did appear as if I had just shot her. Even if she had deserved it. "Thomas Smith." "Wrong, that was an alias. Before you say, 'I know, all my customers use them,' let me ask this: Who did he want killed?" "That's--" I started, but she interrupted. "Confidential? Bullshit. Look at that." She pointed to a folder on my dead secretary's desk. I opened it. "Caine Adamsen," I read. I lowered my gun. The folder was thick. "That's why I killed Markham." "Where did you get this?" "I keep them on all my customers." I didn't know this. I was curious. "Why?" "Efficiency. It makes it easier to cater to my clients tastes. I can make sure what the client wants is available when he wants it. I can also keep tabs on clients who cause me problems" I gathered he was such a client. "What was his preference?" She scowled, and answered, "Biologically Enhanced." A 'Biologically Enhanced' is a creature that is created just for pleasure. It can have anything though, from an extra breast, to a vagina in the middle of its face, or if you're female (or homosexual) you could get a BE with two pounds of swinging meat. You'd be surprised how many people actually made use of the Biologically Enhanced's services. I knew that Crime didn't like dealing in these, but the profit margin was too high not to. "Don't worry about Caine. He's dead. Silhouette," I said. The blood drained from Crime's face. I'd never before seen her so pale. I thought for a moment that she was going to pass out again. She said, "You didn't." "What's wrong?" "Father, Thomas Smith is Caine Adamsen." I sat down in one of the waiting chairs, opened the folder, and looked at the picture there. "Oh shit." I hadn't looked at the one in my office, before I burned it. I hadn't really wanted to see it, but now I wished I still had it. Caine had one of those faces that as soon as you were done looking at it it seemed to fade from memory. I closed my eyes and tried to remember him. I couldn't, but when I looked at the picture I knew that she was right. "Father, have you ever hired Silhouette before?" "Yes." "Then I don't need to tell you about him. What are you going to do? He always finishes a job. I hired him once--a long time ago--and I have no doubt that he will complete the job that I sent him on. As soon as the individual I want dead quits paying taxes, or goes rouge Silhouette will kill him. I'm willing to wait though. You can't afford to." "Who did you hire him to--" "Sorry, I can't tell even you that." I was distracted. I didn't know what all this meant. I didn't press Crime on her dealings with Silhouette. I wished I had. Time for another explanation. Silhouette: an unseen assassin who, as far as I know, hasn't failed yet. Once contracted he disappears until the job is done, and there is no way that he can be contacted after he accepts a job. After he's hired he goes underground for several days to several weeks before the killing, and stays there for several days to several weeks before collecting. He is unstoppable once put on the trail of anyone, no cancellation of the contract by cowardly clients who've changed they're mind, no bribing to let live by the intended target. Silhouette had built the reputation of the perfect assassin. The problem? If Silhouette killed Caine I'd have to pay Silhouette, but if Caine was dead, and if Caine was Thomas Smith then there would be no way I could collect. Either Silhouette failed, and I wouldn't have to pay him, small chance, or I paid him for a job well done out of my own funds. I didn't like this idea at all. For one thing I didn't know if I could. I did some quick figuring. Using all reserve finances I had I couldn't meet Silhouette's fee, but I could probably raise it in time. Crime left me to my thoughts. I wished she hadn't, because the conclusion I came to required that I visit her shop. It was time to visit Crime on a professional level. It could wait till later though. Willie Peat I picked up Caine's folder, and started reading again. It was interesting, though it was mostly on his sexual preferences. There was very little actual useful information. I read for about an hour, sifting through for anything worth anything, and was just about to set the folder down, when the door burst open. I stood up, and found myself facing a large caliber handgun. "I'll kill you!" a small time assassin by the name of Willie Peat screamed. Willie Peat was a minor character in the story of life. He couldn't even pay taxes. I wished I could have just ignored him, but he wouldn't let me. I made a mental note to get Ms. Markham replaced. If I had had a secretary this wouldn't have happened. I also made a mental note to make sure her body was removed. A corpse in the appointment room generally isn't good for business. It's strange what goes through your mind when you're under stress. "I'll kill you!" he yelled again, and as bad as his hand was shaking, I was afraid he would, whether he meant to or not. I started to sweat a little--ah hell--I started to sweat a lot. Sure, I was immortal, but I had no desire to spend the rest of eternity contemplating how it felt to have my brain dripping off a wall. "What do you want Willie?" "I need an assignment. I need money. I need--" "Scream?" "Yeah." "You're an addict Willie. You need help. You've done good work for me before. Clean yourself up, then come talk to me about assignments." He started to cry, big wet tears, and great wracking sobs that looked like they were going to tear him apart. Snot ran from his nose too. It almost made my heart break. "Don't patron--don't patron--no fucking speeches!" "Get out," I said. My voice was calm. I think it was anyway. Wasn't shaking like Willie's at least. "I--I'll...." I figured he was going to shoot me sooner or later. If I was to have a chance at all I'd have to force his hand. "Do it then! Fucking shoot!" I threw up my arm to protect my face. He shot. The round smashed into my wrist. The weave of my cuff stopped it, but I'm afraid my wrist bone was shattered. Not only that, but my hand flew back, powered by that little piece of lead, and slammed into my face. I fell back into my chair. It toppled. My head struck the wall behind me, then the floor in quick succession. Ah, such abuse for my poor cranium. Can't say the lights flickered, then dimmed to blackness; no, they just fucking went out. Thief When I woke two hours later, Willie Peat was gone, my wallet too, and all the standing operating cash in the office. He even took my silver dollar. I was mortal again, and I could already feel myself beginning to age. I looked at my left wrist. The bones were fused together. This was probably due to accelerated aging. I couldn't do anything with my hand except grip. This was definitely a shitty day. There was only one way I could think of to find Willie, and that was by using my best, but usually reluctant, informant. I had to go talk to Thief. I called a cleaning agency to have Markham removed, and left. I went to the sleaziest nightclub in the whole city. It didn't take long to find Thief. I knew he'd be here. He came to this place almost every night to conduct his parasitic activities.. This was why he was one of my better informants. He was always easy to find, and his information was usually accurate. I wanted Willie Peat. I decided to do this the easy way. I offered Thief money. I didn't have any, so I was glad when he told me to fuck off. Thief was a young black shit who tried to make his living in this city by knowing everything that goes on in the city. He made enough to live by, but not enough to buy Protection. He looked like a little monkey: big ears, big lips, and he was always hunched over. I don't think he could have stood up straight if he'd wanted to. I grabbed him by the ear, with my bad hand, and pulled a little bit. I was saving my right hand in case I had to draw my gun. He had an earring, and I'm sure it caused him more than a small amount of pain. How was I sure? He yelled, quite loudly too. Music kept playing, smoke stayed in the air, and people still danced. No one cared. Okay, the hard way then. "My--my...." "Shut up! I want to know where Willie Peat is. Tell me." I pulled harder. He swore. "I like earrings, Thief. Got quite a few already. Some still have the lobe on it. Tell me, now." "Fuck you!" "That's not nice." I had made up all that shit about collecting earrings, but I guess there was always a time to start. It ripped right through the lobe rather nicely, thank you very much. He screamed again. I expected him to. I pulled out my gun, and put it in his mouth. Six bullets, and I wasn't planning on using any to kill him with. I didn't want Thief dead. Dead men can't talk. No, I wasn't going to kill him, but he didn't have to know this. "Hhhk ag." "One chance, fuck it up, and you'll be dripping off this bar." I took the gun out of his mouth. He told me where Willie was. I believed him. I also shot him. No, not in the head, the foot. I might want to talk to him again sometime, but right now I didn't want to have to worry about him following me with petty thoughts of revenge. Oh, and by the way, gun smoke mingles pretty well in a bar. As far as I could tell no one missed a dance step. Killing Time It was dark out and I was tired. I wasn't at all in the mood to be subtle. I got right to it. "Spent it." "Fuck the money, Peat! Where's my coin?" I had him by the throat with my left hand. This hand was so fucked up that I could only squeeze with it, and I guess I must have been doing this. "Gak! Crrrk," he answered. I let up pressure. "Say again?" "Spent it. Subway fair." I put my .38 under his chin. I seldom killed in cold blood, and when I did I never enjoyed it, but this time I found myself smiling as I pulled the trigger over and over again. Six shots and his face was completely gone. I laughed at the brain staring me in the face, and let go of his throat. He crumpled to the ground. Willie Peat was dead. My best informant probably wasn't thinking too highly of me right now. I wasn't in a good mood, and I couldn't comprehend someone, somewhere, in this city of 9 million, having my soul in his hands. I couldn't comprehend him flipping it. Heads, and heads over and over again. I couldn't comprehend this, so I searched Willie. I found my coin. I dropped to my knees in relief. I was no longer mortal. I wasn't aging anymore, but now I was pissed. "Appear!" Thunder clapped. Smoke filled the room, then collapsed in on itself, forming a short pillar. The Devil was sitting on this. "I choose to answer this summons." "Don't try that shit again!" "What Stryke?" "The coin is mine. I paid for it. We have an agreement. I want you to quit fucking with me." "If you care to read the contract you'll find that I 'may not interfere with your life in any direct way.' I have yet to take a direct action against you." "Fuck you have! What about Willie Peat?" "His decision, not mine." "Fuck--" "No Stryke, fuck you. If you have nothing better, I'd ask you not to bother Me. I leave you this to think about--what can you do to Me if I do decide to cancel your contract?" I opened my mouth to say something. Nothing came out. I closed my mouth. The Devil disappeared in a blinding flash of painful light. I looked at Willie Peat's corpse. What could I do if the Devil canceled? Even if He returned my soul to me, I had no doubt that He'd still be getting it anyway. Hadn't I already renounced God? But if the Devil could renege, why hadn't He? Why wait? These were questions that I doubted Willie had the answers for, but I had to find out. As if I didn't already have enough to deal with concerning Silhouette. I didn't want this worry. I searched the apartment for my money, didn't find it, then left. It was time to see Crime. I couldn't put it off any longer. More than just my life was at stake. Lisa The Sex Shop was busy. It always was at night and even most days. My daughter's Shop did good business. She had carved out her place in society with money I had lent her She had seen a need to pay me back, even though I had not. I sat across her desk studying her, as she did the same to me. It was a game we seemed to be playing more often lately. Crime never told me why she changed her name, but it seemed to fit, and I never questioned it. Being immortal had let me be more accepting. It did not seem abnormal to me that Crime now ran the second most successful brothel. Little has ever been able to shock me. This was a quality that Crime seemed to share. She wasn't surprised that I had aged over two years, since she had seen me last. Either that, or she hid it well. I didn't want to talk about it, so I said nothing. "I need a girl." "Didn't you always say that you'd 'never pay for a roll in the hay'?" "No, I said I've never 'paid to get laid,' but that's not what I've come for. I need a bodyguard, someone I can trust." "You can't trust anyone, not even yourself. You know that." "Right. Give me someone." Crime picked up a book, and started going through it, page by page. "No. No. No. Ah, maybe. What about...." She drew back a protective plastic covering, and slid a photo across the desk. I didn't look at it. "I don't want a maybe. Give me someone else. Markham was a maybe, remember?" "Right." Several more pages, and a lot of 'nos' later, I got an excited 'perfect,' which I guess is better than a 'yes.' "Name?" "Lisa Crane. She used to be a tax collector. Good too. She quit when the Guild quit paying commissions. Said straight wages just didn't cut it. She's a good girl. Does business. Never tries to cheat me. Not sure if she'll want to go with you though. Says she likes prostitution, the money and freedom and such." I picked up the picture. Nice. "What can you give me for her?" Crime asked. "I know you don't have funds right now." I wondered how she knew this. If this was already common street information I could be in trouble. I took this as a warning. I did have an option left though. One I knew Crime wouldn't expect. "Love." "Funny. He's Protected." "Not anymore. Guild computer says he didn't pay taxes this month. It seems he feels that he's powerful enough to hold his own against any competitors. He's gone rogue." She smiled. "Done?" I asked. "Done." "Call for her." My daughter picked up the phone on her desk, and spoke into it. Shortly after there was a knock at the door. "Enter." A woman came into the room. She looked about thirty. She had long blond hair that was pulled back. She was wearing a white full length dress. There was a lacy black silk band about her neck. On it, at the center of her throat, was an ivory Cameo broach. She looked like she had just stepped from a Victorian romance novel. I could see why she did business. "Sit down." She did. "I have a trick waiting in my room." "I sent Libby to cover." "He won't like that. He's one of my regulars." "I told Libby to tell him that it was on the house." "Lisa, this is my fa--" she broke off. "He's a friend. He'd like to hire you as a bodyguard." She turned to me. "Is a woman bodyguard a fantasy of yours? I don't think I'd be very good at it. I'm used to, 'O' please, my lord, don't abuse me so, I don't know if mine heart can take it'." "Not fantasy, reality," I said. She turned to Crime. "Is this kid serious?" If only she knew how old I really was. "Completely," my daughter and I said in unison. Lisa didn't laugh, I had to give her that much. "And why not?" Crime asked. "You're qualified. Hell, you took money from the most dangerous people there are: thieves, killers, pimps, Scream dealers, and you're still alive. "If money is what you want, I can only offer you the promise of money. Either, when this settles down, I can, and will, make you a very rich person, or we'll both be dead, in which case you won't need money. Until then, I'm broke" "You want me to go with him?" "It's your decision." "My place or yours?" she asked me. "Yours." Confessions There was little furniture in her apartment. In the living room was an oil painting, a telephone, a stereo, and on the floor in front of a fireplace was a thick round black plush rug. Lisa walked into the kitchen and disappeared. I could see only cupboards and counters from where I was standing, but there must've been a refrigerator, because when she came back into view she had two long stemmed glasses and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket. She handed me a glass and sat on the floor in front of the stereo. I sat beside her. She opened the wine, filled my glass, then her's. She reached out and turned the stereo on. The music that came out sounded like--well it was what Edgar Allen Poe would've written had he been a composer. It was hideous. I don't know if she picked it because she thought it was romantic or what. It wasn't. Lisa drank some wine. I followed her example. A nice dry white. "I'm immortal," I said. "I'm Crime's father." Crime was the only person besides myself that knew this, but I figured that it was a good way to start a conversation. It was. I told my story. Every Friday, during the summer after my Junior year of high school, I went to the same place, (a romantic little spot overlooking the city lights) in the same car, (a flame red ' 57 Chevy) and did the same thing (sex, lots of it) with a different girl. One Friday, I was sitting and sweating with a very beautiful piece of female flesh named Lori. Lori had this thing about her blouse, she wouldn't take it off. This didn't bother me all that much, since I was drunk, and she was naked from the waist down and straddling me. It was love, or as close as one can get in the back seat of a car. I looked past Lori (everything that would've normally distracted me was covered up). Sitting, with His legs crossed, on the hood of my car was the Devil, and He had Lori's skirt in his hands. How do I know it was the Devil? Well, for starters He had small pointy horns and a barbed tail, eyes of flame, and a silver tongue. "Black, how nice," He said holding up the skirt. It burst into flames. Glowing ash floated on the air. Yep, it was the Devil alright. "Get thee behind me Satan," I said. I know it was corny, but it seemed like the thing to say at the time. Lori slapped me, and to my dismay stopped doing what she was doing. I guess, "Get thee behind me Satan," wasn't the most romantic thing I could've said. "Where's my skirt?" "Gone. Fire and smoke. Nothing but ash now." I was more than a little drunk. Lori quickly dressed, in what clothes she had left, while she yelled about how it was me who was the one smoking. This amounted to putting her underwear back on. She got out of the car and started walking home, wearing only panties and a blouse. I didn't care. I let her go. There's an endless supply of girls. "Oh you poor sinner." "Fuck off." "My My My. I came here with only the best of intentions and this is what I get? Such hostility. Nevertheless, I do not mind. In fact I would have probably reacted in the same way if someone burned My date's skirt." I was talking to the Devil Himself, and I was completely naked with a wet erection, so forgive me if I couldn't think of anything original to say. I repeated my earlier swear oath. "Very good, but let Me ask you something. Does not having the Devil along on a date seem rather--how shall I say this--strange?" "I've been drinking. Lori didn't see ya, so you're not for real." What an innocent I was. "Fine, I'm not real. How would you like to sell your soul to a nonexistent Devil then?" Once again, I told him what to do. He held up a piece of paper, and started to read. Standard contract, my soul would be placed in a coin, I'd live forever, or until I felt like buying my own little piece of Hell for a dollar. "Think about it kid--life everlasting." "I know better than that. You'll have me get in a fire, or fall off of a building, or hit by a train, or something where I wouldn't want to go on." "No, fire would--never mind. It's all in the contract. I can't make any direct actions against you, and if something does happen to make your life unlivable, then you need only hold the coin, and summon Me. I will answer, and return you to your original condition. It's all in the contract. Come, sign." My life up to this point hadn't meant anything really. I mean where was I headed? Everything was starting to become predictable, like masturbation. There was nothing unforeseeable in my future. Even if the Devil was offering me a deal that favored Him (and I was sure that He was) I still wanted it. Nothing could be worse than continuing this way, trying to hide from being aware. I signed. I woke in the morning, still in my car, with a bad taste in my mouth, something in my hand, and I guess I must have had a wet dream, because there was dried semen on my stomach and my legs. I opened my hand. 1945, the year I was born. "I'm immortal too." I laughed. I guess it wasn't the most polite thing to do. When I finally regained control of myself I looked at Lisa and started laughing again. "I don't believe you." "I believed you." "Yeah, if I thought you would've, I probably wouldn't have told you." "I'm not exactly immortal. I'm undead. I'm a vampire." "I still don't believe you." "You don't have to believe me, but you laugh again and I'll kill you." "You can't. I'm immortal." We both laughed, then she kissed me. Somehow, when we kissed, I couldn't imagine her being some dead (or undead if you prefer) creature out of my childhood nightmares. She was too warm--too soft. It seemed impossible. She started to undo the buttons of my shirt. I returned the favor. We continued to undress each other until we were both completely naked. I looked at her. She was beautiful. Her body was perfect. My erection was becoming painful. I wanted her bad, but I was afraid to take her. I knew I wouldn't last. I couldn't last. I felt like I was some teenage nerd, about to score the best looking cheerleader in school, while her parents were out of town for the weekend. "I can't." "Yes you can." She put her hands on my shoulders, and forced me to my knees, and I do mean forced. She was strong. Far stronger than I. She pushed me back. This time I did not resist. We made love until sunrise. She bit me twice. It was the perfect romance scene, but only if you didn't stop to think about it. I didn't stop to think about it. She took me to her bedroom. In it was a large stone coffin, in which, together, we slept. The Night The next night we woke. Lisa went into the bathroom, "to get ready," she had said. I didn't ask what she was getting ready for. I was hungry, and decided that I needed to eat. I went to the kitchen. I opened the fridge, but nothing looked good. In fact nothing even looked edible. I guess when you're a vampire, like Lisa, you don't have much need for food. I decided to try something anyway. I took a bottle of the same white wine we had shared the night before, poured some into a glass, and drank it. I dropped both the bottle and the glass, and threw up in the sink. I then fell to my knees. I was dizzy, couldn't stand. I was now having dry-heaves. The convulsions were ripping my insides out. I felt like I was dying. For all I knew I was, except that I was supposed to be immortal. I didn't know what was going on. I called out for Lisa. I must have called out rather loudly, because she came quickly. She took one look at me, and a look of infinite horror came over her face. "What have I done?" she yelled. Poisoned me maybe? But I rejected this idea. The wine had been sealed, and poisons are too unreliable, unless delivered with a blade to the heart. That's usually a for sure thing. "Lisa." "What have I done?" "Lisa, talk to me. What's happening?" I was shaking. Sweat was starting to bead on my skin. She kneeled beside me and cradled my head in her arms. She stroked my hair. She was crying. "Not happening, happened. You're a vampire now. It shouldn't have happened, you were still alive. I never meant for this. You can never know how sorry I am." She held me for a long time, and no matter what I said, trying to comfort her, she kept crying, small whimpering little sobs. Finally, I regained control of myself, and when I could take no more of this I disentangled myself from Lisa. She let me go. When the tortuous pain in my insides had subsided enough, I stood up, and being careful of all the broken glass, I washed my face in the sink. "Lisa, let's go." She was still sitting and holding her legs, rocking back and forth like a sad cold child. I took her hands, and repeated myself. She looked up at me, but it was as if she couldn't see me. "Lisa." Still nothing. "Lisa!" I yelled this time, then slapped her. I hit her a lot harder than I expected, but it worked. She looked at me again. This time there was understanding in her eyes. "Oh Michael, I'm so sorry." "It's okay. You can't hurt me. I'm immortal. I'm fine." "I thought you were. I believed you. Otherwise I wouldn't have drawn life from you twice. I never draw more than once. From all my customers I only feed from each no more than once a month. People are addicted to death. They keep coming back. You were not immortal Michael, but now you are undead." I spent another hour trying to convince her that I was fine, and that nothing was wrong with me. She wouldn't believe me, but then I wasn't sure myself. Had the Devil canceled? If so it didn't matter. I was now undead. I could feel it. I thirsted for blood, not wine. Lisa must have only pretended to drink the wine, or she knew something that I didn't. The night was passing quickly. I wanted to do something before she was forced to sleep again. "Let's go," I said. "Where?" "I don't know. You had something in mind before, didn't you?" A serious look came across her face. "I don't want to go there anymore. Maybe tomorrow. I have something I must show you now," she said. She led me, outside, by the hand, to her car. It was a small black sporty thing. Hope that helps. I have never really given a shit about cars. I knew as much about them as I did guns, which was nothing, but I knew enough to know that it was expensive. "Where are we going?" "You'll see. Get in." I did. She did. She started the car, and started driving. We drove for quite a ways. I think I even fell asleep for a while. It was at least an hour before she pulled the car over. She got out. I did too. She started walking toward a small cottage. I followed. "Where are we going?" I asked again. "Here." "Why?" "You'll see." She reached out and knocked. The door sounded like wood. It looked like wood. It was probably wood. An old lady answered the probably wooden door. Her face was wrinkled. She looked like she'd been in a fire as a child. I was tired. I yawned. No one said anything. I stood there. Lisa stood there. The old lady stood there. Time did not stand. It was marching to the same old beat it always did, but only the old lady was getting any older. I shuddered. I too could look like this. I did not want this to happen. The old lady started to shut the door. I started to turn away. "Wait," Lisa said. I didn't know if she was talking to me or the old lady. We both stopped. "Leave me in peace. It's been years since you came here. I'm going to die soon. I just want to die in peace." "You wouldn't have had to die, sister. I made the offer sixty five years ago. You should have taken it. You could have lived forever like me." "You're not alive." I was the observer in this conversation. I observed. "It's not like I chose this." "No, but you chose not to do anything about it." "What was I supposed to do?" Lisa was about to cry. I could tell. I was right. Twin tears made their way down her lovely cold face. "I've told you before." "God? Ha! He wouldn't help me." "Go to the house of God. Repent." "I can't." "You can." "I've tried. I burned. I couldn't even touch the door. I'd die if I went inside. I can't." "You're not living now. You are dead, but the gift of heaven is not yet denied. Repent at the altar of God and you may yet be saved. Though your flesh may die your soul can survive." The probably wooden door slammed shut. "Let's go Michael." I didn't say anything until we were back in the car. "What was that all about?" "She was my sister--my twin sister. That is what I would look like today if I wasn't immortal. If I wasn't undead." She started crying, such misery. I couldn't understand. People would kill to be immortal. I had sold my soul. At first I didn't have anything to say, so I didn't say anything, but then I started laughing. She slammed down the gas pedal. "It's not funny, damn it!" "No wait. You don't understand. "There was this guy, and he was walking down a road. He came across this mirror. 'I'm God,' he said to the mirror. "'No, I'm God,' the mirror answered. "So the man broke the mirror and God died. "Get it?" "No. Should I have?" I almost went into hysterics again, but she was still crying, and the car was flying at almost a hundred, so I didn't. "No, guess not. It's just that I've been alive for seventy five years now, for fifty eight of them I've been immortal, and I never expected to meet someone even remotely like me." She kissed me, and about killed us by running the car off the road. Daylight was still a ways away. I was hungry--starved, and I had someone I still wanted to see. Love Love, as far as I was concerned, ran a far classier place than Crime. I mean where would you rather go for sex, the One Stop Sex Shop or The Love Boutique? That, and Love didn't deal in BEs. In the end it didn't matter though. I wasn't there to get laid. Lisa and I walked past several girls on our way to Love. None propositioned me. I was almost hurt. We stopped before the mountain of black flesh. Love was the biggest person I'd ever seen. He looked more like a bulldog than a person. His whole body rippled with muscle. The man standing next to him, his bodyguard, wasn't small either. Love wasn't stupid. He had to know that I was there to kill him. The only things I had going for me was the speed at which I could draw a gun--fast, and the fact that nobody would have the audacity to do what I was about to try. His bodyguard had a double barreled shotgun in his hands, and he looked like he knew how to use it. If I had said I wasn't scared I would have been lying. My testicles were in my throat. "Why did you come here, Strick?" "It's Stryke, like in to strike a match. Got it?" "Whatever Stir-ick. You here on business?" "Yes." "Yours or mine?" My mouth was dry, but I managed to speak. "Mine," I said. Now he knew for sure. I hoped he was sweating as much as I. I couldn't understand why he hadn't already had me shot. Speaking of which, the bodyguard slowly brought the shotgun up and aimed it at my head. He smiled. He had a big old gold tooth, and the rest of his teeth were nicotine stained to almost the same color. It wasn't a pleasant smile. "Then I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, unless you'd like to reconsider and sample some of what I have to offer?" I motioned to Lisa and said, "No thanks, I brought my own." "I see you have. Take her with you when you go." Lisa just stood there like the good little vampire that she was. "Wait. You don't think I'd just walk in here and shoot you?" This was exactly what I had planned, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I may be careless, but I'm not--well, maybe I was stupid. Here I was standing in Love's brothel about to kill him, in front of a bodyguard, who was aiming a big gun at me, not exactly smart. "I have something for you." When I said earlier that I was quick with a gun, I wasn't exaggerating. I'm fast--damn fast. The only thing is that I only hit about half of what I shoot at. This is why I have always tried to make sure the range was such that I couldn't miss. I raised my left hand, palm open. Goldtooth thrust the shotgun into my face. Only about a foot of air separated me from two barrels of death. I raised my right hand, slowly, so as not to give Goldtooth a reason to do some interior decorating with my gray matter. I couldn't believe I was about to try this. I could only hope that they couldn't believe it either. When my hand was only inches from my jacket, Love said, "That's far enough." "Think so?" I hoped so. I took a deep breath, and grabbed a hold of the shotgun barrel with my left hand, forcing it away from my face. I drew my gun with my right. There was an explosion, and a lot of pain from my hand, but I was still alive. Goldtooth's jaw dropped open in surprise. I fired, and hit him right in his precious tooth. He crumpled to the ground at Love's feet. My wrist pumped a few quick jets of blood, but immediately slowed to almost nothing. My left hand had been through a lot lately. Love just sat there. "You're not natural. Am I to die then?" I didn't answer. I just smiled, and dropped the gun. My left hand had already stopped bleeding. Vampirism has its advantages. It was quiet. I looked around. Everyone was staring at me. They must have been the whole time. I ignored them, and stepped up to Love. I reached out and grabbed him by the hair. I then pulled his head back, and sunk my teeth into his throat. Love was strong, but there was no way he could resist, even though he did try. He was only mortal after all. Blood flowed into my mouth. My senses started to swim. Was it like this every time I wondered? I felt myself drop to my knees, taking Love with me. It was bliss. I caressed Love's cheek with the stump of my ruined hand as I sucked like a babe. I didn't want it to end, but as big as Love was eventually it did. With my one hand, I broke his neck. When the blood stopped flowing I let my head fall back, and I laughed. I felt like God. I was glutted. I hadn't thought I could drink that much. Lisa picked up my gun, held out her other hand. I grasped her smooth fingers. We left. The Banquet Last night I was worried about my hand. Sure it had healed into a scar covered stump in no time, but this wasn't what I wanted. I guess I should have been grateful that I was still alive. I mentioned robotics to Lisa, she just laughed, and told me that my hand would take care of itself. I didn't believe her. Before sunrise, we again bedded down, in her coffin, together. I was worried for a bit, that some one would come upon us as we slept. Lisa told me to lift the coffin lid. It was large, and stone, and it was heavy. I had no doubt that a mortal would have an impossible time getting at whoever was within. When we woke, Lisa said that she had someplace that she wanted to take me, and that I was to dress up for it. (Oh, by the way, my hand had completely grown back. I don't know how it happened exactly.) I hadn't been home in days, so I told her that I didn't have any dress clothes. She told me to look in the closet. There was one suit in there. It was the only thing in the closet. It was charcoal gray, with black trimming, and I knew it would fit fine. I was amazed. I gave up on how she had done it, when after the tenth time, she still refused to answer me. Lisa knocked. Little dents appeared in the door (or maybe I imagined them). A large fat man answered. He looked powerful, like he could beat the shit out of anyone. He was dressed like an old fashioned butler. I took it that he was both bouncer and receptionist. "Lisa, it's been such a long time. Will you be staying for the banquet?" he asked in a hollow voice. "Yes." "Really? What a surprise. I've never known you to before." Lisa just looked at him. She didn't answer. "Who is this?" he asked. "A friend." "You had better watch him carefully then. No telling what can happen at the Banquet." "I can take care of myself," I said. "Really?" "Really." I drew my .38, and I pointed it at him. He was a hell of a lot faster than I expected. For as big as he was, I only expected him to be able to move in slow-motion, but he reached out with his right hand and grabbed my gun. At least this was what I assumed he did. I didn't actually see him move. I tried to fire, but the damn gun wouldn't work. He was squeezing so hard that the chamber holding the rounds couldn't rotate, nor could the hammer move back. I heard, and felt, my trigger finger break. I fell to my knees. I looked at Lisa. She had taken out a cigarette, lit it, and was now calmly smoking it. "So little man, you can take care of yourself huh? Never threaten me. It isn't wise," he said. I looked up into his huge face. He looked damn sure of himself. He was so fucking smug. With all my vampiric might, I punched him in the testicles, with my newly rejuvenated hand. He let go of me, and dropped like a groaning rock. "You my friend, are a fuck," I said. I put my gun away, got up, and kicked him in the head for good measure. I looked at my hand. Two fingers were bent back at almost 90 degree angles. With a crack, and a yell, I straightened them. I could tell that the bones were already starting to knit. "If you're done playing with Morris, we have a dinner to attend." We left Morris, withering in agony on the floor, and walked hand in hand down the hall. There were no lights, but I found I could see fine. We stopped in front of a set of large metal bound double doors. These doors looked like they were torn from some medieval castle. They were black, and probably could have withstood an attack by an army. "Thanks for your help back there." "You said you could handle it. I figured it was better to let you learn on someone gentle like Morris, than let you make a fool of yourself later," she said as she open the doors. "Welcome to the Banquet." The sight that my eyes beheld confounded me. In all my considerably long life I had never seen anything such as its like. There were multilevel balconies, upon which people of much variety, were doing such strange things: ballroom dancing, drinking, having sex in hidden little corners, and occasionally someone would fall from one of these into a drunken heap of flesh and bone. Unlike the hall, there were lights everywhere here, but no one cast a shadow. I laughed. "Lisa, explain this." "This, Michael, is the Banquet." A small white man came up to me. He wasn't an albino. He was such a uniform color that albinism was instantly ruled out. His eyes were white, and when he smiled I saw that even his tongue and gums were the color of milk. I wondered how he got this way. He was dressed in pale to complete his appearance. "Hello, my smiling friend," he said as he bowed to me. "Michael, this is Nemesis," said Lisa, and by the way she said it, I could tell that she did not like this individual at all. "So, who's nemesis are you?" "Death's Michael, I am the nemesis of--myself." Lisa stepped between us, turned her back to him, took my hand, and led me away. I had little choice. I followed. She took me to another room. It had the appearance of a bar. There were tables in this room, with more unusual creatures (even though I was now a vampire, I still had trouble calling vampires people) sitting about them. "Why did you pull me away from him?" "He is a vampire's vampire. He only feeds off his own kind. He seldom leaves here. He's only tolerated because he's too powerful to stop. He gets what he wants." "What's he want?" "Only he knows. I just don't want him to take an interest in you." "It seems to me that there are enough vampires to destroy him." "It's been tried. He killed so many, that it will never be tried again." She was still holding my hand. The music was soft. We danced. I buried my mouth into the base of her throat. She was soft. I parted her skin, and as we danced, I drank. I didn't want to stop. It felt too good, but this was a cup that I had no right to drain. I stopped. "I love you," she said. Did I love her? Yes. It felt so natural. Here we were, two eternal undead in love. "I love you too." I kissed her. I wanted her. "Let's leave," I said. "We haven't eaten yet, and if we don't dine here, we'll have to stop on the way home." She walked to the bar, said something to the bartender, and received two glasses from him. She then walked back to me, and handed me one of them. It was filled with a dark red liquid, and I knew that it was blood. I could tell by the smell. I didn't drink. I didn't know what to do. What, you can't see my dilemma? Picture this, you're at a party, with some undead woman, to whom you just professed your love, so you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of her, and you are given something you have never experienced before. What do you do? I mean, was this fine sipping blood, or was it like beer, where you just toss off a glass, wipe your mouth on your sleeve, belch, and reach for another? Lisa must have sensed my confusion, because she laughed and told me that it was blood. "I know that," I said. "How do you drink it?" "Slowly. It's expensive. It's the blood of year old white doves." I hadn't seen her pay anything for it. I was going to ask her about this, when she said, "Come, we dine." She led me again, to a set of 'army withstanding' double doors. Hanging upon these doors were a pair of the deadest looking vampires I had ever seen. Each had a stake driven through its still heart. It was by these stakes that they were held in place. "This Michael, is the worst torture for a vampire." "Yeah, death sucks." "No, not death. These two are far from dead, but not as far as they probably hope to be. They are only immobilized. If the stakes were pulled, then they would resume life as the vampires that they are." I didn't know what crime these two had committed to deserve such a fate, but I also couldn't bring myself to feel for them. It didn't seem to me like there could be any life in them. They were more like the kind of a story told to scare a child. Was Lisa trying to warn me against some unknown danger that I could not understand? We opened these doors, and passed through to yet another room. This was the true banquet hall. There was a long wooden table that dominated the room, and it was a large room. It reminded me of a church, for some reason, with its pews pulled out, and with the table taking their place. We were not the first to arrive, there were already others sitting at the table. In fact there were very few seats left, just at one end. Everyone was talking. There were too many voices to pick out just any one individual's speech. I didn't care what any of them were saying. We joined them. The table was large enough to seat hundreds, and was doing so, but we ended up only about thirteen feet from Nemesis. This shows how well he was liked. No one wanted to be near him. He was seated at its head, and was leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table. If anyone minded, no one said so. We sat. Someone who looked like, but was not, Morris came up to us. He had towels folded over his arm. He offered each of us one, Lisa first, then me. We both accepted. "And do you know what you will be having this evening?" the man who looked like, but was not, Morris asked. Before Lisa could answer, I asked, "What do you suggest?" "I, myself, sir, find that an Oriental is often pleasing." "Nah, with Chinese food you're hungry again in an hour. What else ya got?" "Michael, allow me to order." "Sure, fine." "We'll take the House Special." "Will you be sharing that?" "Yes." "Very well. Thank you very much." He bowed and left. Lisa and I made small talk for about an hour. The night was still young, so I wasn't too worried about the time. Lisa told me that the man who looked like, but wasn't Morris, was Morris's brother, and named Borris. I'm serious. I didn't name them, so don't blame me. I didn't much care for this place, neither did Lisa. I could tell. I think that she only brought me there because it was something she thought I might enjoy. Either that, or she just wanted to show me off (male ego there). Caligula introduced himself. I found him rather interesting. He told me that the thing with the Senate was all contrived, and that he had been innocent, that history had given him, as he says, "A bum rap." I allowed as to how I was sorry. He excused himself, and left. Lisa handed me something. "This is for you," she said. I took it. "What's this?" "A ring." "Oh, is that what they call little loops of metal?" I looked at it closely. The ring was a gold dragon of the oriental type. It had four legs, was thin, and had no wings. The workmanship was superb. It was worth much. I put it on. At first I thought it was too small as I felt its claws dig into my skin, but this feeling eased and went away. It was snug, but comfortable. "There's a bond between us now. We have matching rings. They're called lover's rings. They're supposed to allow you to share your mate's thoughts when you are forced to separate. I got them from my sister as a wedding present." "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were married." "I was. We were happy together until one night a vampire attacked us. She knocked me to the ground, fed from my husband, then broke his neck. She called herself Night, and she decided to make me into--you know the rest." I didn't, but if she didn't want to talk about it, well, that was her right. Borris came back up to us then. He had a small child in his arms. This he handed to Lisa. She took him. He was sleeping. "The House Special," said Borris. "Will you be requiring any other service this evening?" "No," said Lisa. Borris left. If he was displeased with what I had done to his brother, he didn't show it. In fact, he didn't show much of anything. "You're not going to drink from him." "Of course I am, Michael. Why wouldn't I?" "He's just a child." "Yes, a pure child, raised exclusively for this reason. He hasn't a functional brain. He's like a BE." She then leaned in, and drank. I didn't stop her, but for some reason, I wanted to. I was disturbed by this little showing. "Now you." I turned away. I wanted nothing to do with this. I was hungry, but it just didn't seem right. I mean killing someone straight out, and using them, to satisfy the thirst was one thing, but raising people to be bled like cows was something else completely. Just then Nemesis stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce one of the newest members of our little race. He stylizes himself as a killer, even though he knows so little about killing, but he is a vampire, even if only reluctantly, so I'd like everyone to give a big round of applause for Michael." He motioned to me in some imitation of a grand gesture. Some clapped feebly, as if they weren't sure of what was expected of them. "I said, clap! Clap damn it. Everyone clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!" he yelled. Everyone rushed to obey this time. Even Lisa. "Enough!" I said, as I stood up. "Michael--" "Shut up, Lisa." I looked at Nemesis. He looked at me. I don't know where everyone else looked, but they made no sound as we stared at each other. "Are you going to be interesting?" he asked. I ignored his question, and asked one of my own, "Why does everyone fear you? You strike me as being petty. A vampire who kills only vampires. Ha! When was the last time you went among mortals? When was the last time you even pretended to be alive?" I heard many gasps. I guess no one ever questioned Nemesis like this. He laughed and walked around to the side of the table. He put his hands on the shoulders of the vampire that was sitting there. The vampire just sat there. She did not resist. Nemesis brought his hands up and started to run them through her hair. "Why am I so feared you ask?" He gently kissed her flowing mane of red hair. "Because I can do this." He then pulled the woman's head from her shoulders. She looked like a broken child's doll. I wanted to get up and see if I could fix her, but I couldn't just wave a magic wand and have anything I wanted. She was dead--obviously dead. Her body lay broken and lost. Nemesis threw me the head. I caught it. "You're sick." He smiled as I dropped the head. "Are you the cure? I don't think so. Why don't you shoot me?" I probably would have shot him, if I'd thought it would've done any good, but I'd learned my lesson from Morris. He started walking toward me. I reached in my pocket and palmed my silver dollar. I wanted to see if it would offer me any comfort in the face of certain death. It offered little. "Will no one stand up to him?" I asked. I heard Lisa whimper a little. I knew she wanted to step between Nemesis and I, but she thought it would be a waste. She thought I was going to die. She was probably right. "Yes, beg for help. Ask everyone to die, so that you may live. Who are you, the Antichrist? I have decided that I want you." "Fuck off." By now he was directly in front of me. I tried to back away, but he was impossibly quick. I still didn't have this vampire shit down. I underestimated him. He had my face in his hands, and was squeezing tightly. "Oh Michael...." I heard Lisa say. "Yes, 'oh Michael'." Nemesis imitated. "Time to die." He was applying pressure. I could hear my skull starting to crack. I didn't like this idea at all. There was little I could do about it. I didn't think that it would do much, but I punched him in the stomach with the hand holding the two headed coin. Nemesis flew back. The only thing was, he still had a hold of my head. My neck popped loudly several times, but did not break. Nemesis let go. I fell to the ground. It seemed like half my life was spent falling to the ground. "How? Who are you?" Nemesis was confused. I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. I was dizzy. I couldn't think. Had the coin done something to him? If so what, and how could I use it against him? I didn't think that I'd have the time to find out. Already he had recovered and was again coming at me. This time I concentrated on his movements, as best as I could. When I thought that he was going to reach for me I moved. It almost worked. At least this time I saw his hand, as it flew out and grabbed me by the throat. With one hand, he lifted me up. I was glad I was taller than him or I would have found myself dangling off the floor. "I asked you a question, worm. How did you do that? No one has hurt me before. Ever!" I kicked him as hard as I could. It did nothing. So it wasn't just me. It was the coin. Only the hand holding the coin could cause him any damage. I swung my fist at him, but with his free hand he caught my wrist. He squeezed. Why is it always my hands? I think someone, somewhere, was playing some cosmic joke on me. I could see God saying, "Have we broken Michael Stryke's hands lately, oh let's see since--yesterday? No? Well have it done, and be quick about it." Well, whether there was some reason in the big picture of things or not, Nemesis broke my hand. I was amazed that I didn't scream, but I did drop my coin. The only thing that could save me dropped to the floor. I watched as it fell, and noted where it finally came to rest. Nemesis threw me. I flew to the back of the banquet hall, and crashed into the double doors there. They exploded outwards, and flew off their hinges. They were completely destroyed. I looked up to the pitiful vampires that were impaled upon the doors. One was completely crushed, and I wonder if this meant that its suffering was over. The other was still stuck with wood into wood. I turned my gaze away from it, and I stood up. I was fine, except my hand. I think that this goes to show the strength of a vampire rather well. I hadn't even a cut on me. My clothes were totaled though. I was amazed at the strength that it would take to damage me. Morris had done it, but how much force had it taken? Was it like a diamond scratching a diamond? I pulled out my .38, and looked at it. The front (or if you're one of those gun enthusiasts, the barrel) was bent down. Not a lot, but enough to make the gun worthless. I threw it away. I pulled on my hand. Bone ground against bone. I waited for a short while, to give my wrist time to set. I had a feeling I was going to need it. Maybe five minutes passed. Five minutes. Lisa was still in there. How much did I love her? I wasn't sure if I wanted to do this, but I casually and calmly, (yeah, right, I was shitting my pants) walked back inside. Nemesis was yelling at everyone. Several vampires lay dead at his feet. From their postures I could see that none had resisted. Lisa was sitting in a daze, but otherwise looked fine. Nemesis was still screaming. His voice was insanely clamorous. Some of the weaker vampires were holding their hands over their ears. Occasionally glassware would shatter. My ears hurt also, but I ignored them. Two could play at this game. "Nemesis, I challenge you!" I screamed. I know that I too was loud, because some of those close to me also brought their hands to their heads. Nemesis was all fury. He stopped screaming, and decided to glare at me instead. "You dare! I will kill you. I will slowly rend you limb from limb. I will tear out your tongue. I will castrate you. I will--" "Come do it then, you fuck!" I had to be careful, if what I was planning had any chance of working. I waited until he started to rush me, I then crouched a little, and at the last possible second I launched myself into the air. He passed below me, in a blur, and by the time he figured out that he had missed, I was again on the ground. I ran to where I knew the coin to be, picked it up, and quickly turned around. Nemesis had only now stopped, and turned toward me. "Foolish fool, you cannot beat me. I am Death himself. I cannot be beaten. I've been around since the beginning of time, and I will be here when time ends! I have never lived, and I will die twice before I cease to exist. It is utter folly to think you can kill me." "'That is not dead, which can eternal lie, and in strange aeons even Death may die.' H. P. Lovecraft, mother-fucker. Now come on." Let me set something straight. I wasn't at all confident of my ability to cause him any harm, even though I knew my coin improved my chances by a hell of a lot. I knew he wasn't just going to let Lisa and I go, so I really couldn't see any other option but challenging him. I didn't have anything to loose. That, and I was pissed. "You know you will die if you oppose me. Set down the coin, and I may yet let you live. Who knows, I may even let your whore live." "Cunning? I thought that was below you. I thought you'd relish a fight with someone who has a chance of winning, but maybe you don't like fighting. Maybe you only like killing your fellow vampires, because they are weak, and can be treated like 'House Specials'." Nemesis scowled at me. I had turned his pathetic world upside- down. He wanted me dead. I knew this. "I am done with words. Now it is time for you to die." He rushed me. I didn't move. I watched. I had tried this before, without success, but this time I was hoping it would work. I struck at him, even before I thought I would be able to hit him. This was almost as bad as being blind, but it worked. My fist collided with his head. When I had thrown my fist, I hadn't thought of how hard or fast I should've thrown it. I just did it. There were no human limitations holding my hand back. I felt my skin split and tear. Two of my knuckles disintegrated. I shuddered at the thought of what the blow, and my coin, did to his skull. He went sprawling. I would probably never get another chance to do anything against him again. He would be ready for me next time. I didn't even pause. I jumped right on top of him, and started pummeling his face as hard as I could. I knew my right hand was probably the only one doing any damage, but I hit him with both of them anyway. He must have been knocked unconscious by my first hit, because he never struggled even once. I stopped hitting him when my hands were so torn up that I thought I would drop the coin. I couldn't have that. Nemesis wasn't moving, but I knew that he wasn't dead. His wounds were already healing. In seconds he would again be fine. I couldn't have this either. I bit into his neck vein and started sucking. So much blood gushed into me that I thought I wouldn't be able to drink it all. This wasn't ordinary blood though. This blood had been distilled through the centuries until there was nothing left of it that my vampiric shell didn't crave. I took it all, and screamed when no more came forth. I pocketed my coin, and then with a casual twist I tore what was left of his head from his shoulders. No blood poured from his neck. I had drank it all. "No magic wands, fuck! No magic wands." I gouged my fingers into his eyes and tore his skull in half. His brain fell to the floor. Only then did I look around me. Everyone was on their knees. They were looking at me like I was some sort of god, and in a way I suppose I was, but I didn't want any of this. "Come Lisa, we're going." A Little Death "It was terrible. He was making our kind touch your coin. They exploded into red mist and disappeared as soon as they did. I thought he was going to make me touch it. He killed all those who refused. I was so scared." I was surprised that she wasn't crying like a Saturday night suicide. She was so good at it. I wasn't in a mood to deal with a sniveling vampire right now. I had almost died. "It's alright, Lisa. He can't hurt you now. He's dead," I said this only because I wanted to reassure her so she'd shut up. "Is he? Oh Michael, he was right. He can't be beat. Look at your hands." I did. They were healed, but snow white. I wished that I could see myself in a mirror, but it's common knowledge that a vampire can't cast a reflection. Hell, I didn't even have a shadow. I felt foolish as I stuck out my tongue, and went cross-eyed, to see if too was white. It was. "What's this mean, Lisa?" She didn't answer me. She put her arms around me. I held her tightly. We kissed. We had less than half an hour of night left, but still she started undressing me. I didn't resist. I didn't know why she was doing this, but I did not question her. She undressed, then pulled me to the rug in front of the fireplace. Still I did not resist. I didn't know if she was the one who wanted comfort, or if she was trying to comfort me. We had sex, but there was no romance in it. We didn't have time to be gentle. Our love was expressed through just straight fucking. "Lisa, the sun." "I know." She kissed my neck. I felt her bite me. She'd drank from me before, also I'd done this to her, but for some reason, this time, I didn't want her to do it. If I allowed it, would she be able to stop? Or would Nemesis's blood call for her to take me? And also, I didn't yet understand why I was white. I didn't want her to share this fate. I pushed her away. I still didn't know how strong I was. I used only a little effort, she flew into the wall. Several cracks appeared there, but Lisa was fine. She came at me, fingers extended into claws. I thought of my coin, but not only would it kill her, it was also still in my pants, and I was naked. Why was she doing this? Had she gotten me undressed just so I wouldn't have the defense of my coin? Did she think that Nemesis's blood offered some power that she coveted? So many questions. No time for answers. I could already feel the sun. She was on top of me. I fell back, into the fire. Lisa was clawing at my face, as the flames burned my hair. I couldn't think. What could I do? I didn't want to hurt her, but something had to be done. A voice spoke in my head, "Kill her!" it said. "Kill her!" I slammed my fist into her chin, hitting her away. She again flew back, but this time she crumpled into an unmoving heap. I got up off the floor, and went to Lisa. We had only minutes before we would be hit by the full force of the sun. I didn't want either of us to die. I rolled her onto her back. "Kill her!" I was now starting to understand what was happening. I didn't have time to think on it though. The room was beginning to become light. Lisa was beginning to stir. I had only one option. Why do I never have choices? If I was right, we might both yet live. If I was wrong we were dead for sure. I thought of what Lisa had said about the vampires that were nailed to the banquet doors, and thrust my hand between Lisa's naked breasts, and into her chest. She came fully awake at that. She grabbed my hand, but there was no stopping me. I was the strongest vampire to ever exist. Nemesis had given me the power to be king--god--of vampires. As strong as Lisa was, she didn't have a chance of holding my hand back. I tore her heart from her chest. Great splashes of blood followed. The sight of the blood made the thirst come upon me, but I was strong enough to ignore it. "Michael, I only wanted to take your place so that you could have lived. Now we both die. When you sleep, you will become Nemesis." She closed her eyes, and died. I shed no tear. I picked her up, and carried her to the bedroom, where I placed her, and her heart, into her coffin. The stone lid that I had found so heavy before was not heavy anymore. The casket that I had hated so much, looked so inviting, but if Lisa was right, and I expected she was, if I bedded down I would not wake as myself. Nemesis would have my body. I shut the lid. It closed with a bang that seemed to signal something. I didn't know what, but it seemed like it should have meant something. I wondered what the neighbors thought of all the noise when Lisa and I had fought. Were there people outside the apartment, ears to the wall, trying to hear what was going on inside? I hoped not. I grabbed my silver dollar, left the apartment, and went to face the sun. Leaving the Curse Behind Lisa's blood covered me from my neck to my crotch. I was still naked, pure unclean white, and Nemesis was in me. I could feel him. There was this almost irresistible urge, dominating my mind, trying to convince me to go back into the apartment and hide from the day. If I wasn't holding the coin, I no doubt would have been unable to resist him, and I would not have been waiting to greet the sun. Lisa had said that vampires exploded when they made contact with my coin. If it was so powerful, why hadn't it kept Lisa from making a vampire out of me? Probably because I had allowed it. I hadn't fought when she had bit me the first time. I had welcomed it. I knew one thing though, and that was that I couldn't allow Nemesis to take my body, and have control of the coin. He was next to unstoppable before, if he had my silver dollar he would be impossible for anything to destroy. His power combined with the coin would probably be enough to wrest control from even the Devil Himself. "Prepare to perish," I said. The sun was just peaking over the horizon. I was burning. Little motes of light flickered on my body. My skin split. Several cracks went clear to the bone. I was white through and through, my muscle tissue was white, even the blood that poured from me looked like milk. I concentrated on the coin. It was my only chance. Nemesis screamed in my mind. I thought my head was going to split open. I fell to the ground. My plan had been to have the sun burn him from me, as the coin kept me alive. I had bargained my soul for immortality, had I not? I had been promised life eternal, but I knew now that I was wrong, and I was going to die. Even the coin could not prevent this horrid death. "Satan! Appear!" "I choose to answer this summons." The Devil was standing over me. I was laying on my back, melting into a milky puddle. Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but I felt like some sponge being wrung out by an ancient god's hand. "Help me." "My My My. Have not we gotten ourselves into a little trouble? What will you give Me to help you out? The coin? There are others that desire it. I have not made a direct action against you. This is not my work, so you cannot blame Me." He was nodding His head back and forth, like He was my mother or something. "I'm just asking you to return me to the way I was before I ever became a vampire." I didn't feel like bartering with Him. I was hurting. He was obligated to return me to my original condition, if He was still bound by the contract. I guess this was were I got to find out whether or not He could renege. "Why should I?" He asked slowly. I could tell He liked this, and was dragging it out as long as He could. "It's in the contract." I said through clenched teeth. "Section something or another subparagraph this or that, states that if at anytime I find my physical appearance unacceptable I can have it returned to the form I had when I originally made the bargain for immortality. So either turn me bac--" The only time I had heard this was when Satan had read me the contract, and then I had been drunk. I never looked at my copy. If the Devil had told me that this wasn't in my contract, I probably would have believed Him, and given Him the coin. I didn't have to though. "Very well, very well, but you can only do so once." He motioned with his hand. The pain was gone, so was He, and I was myself again, as I was on the night I had fucked Lori, as I was the night I had bartered for immortality. Was I still immortal? I passed out. Eternally Undead There was something I hadn't thought of before. The coffin lid was too heavy for me to lift. I no longer had any vampire powers. Give me a break, okay? I can't be expected to think of everything. I waited until night. I then spent several hours trying to open the lid. I couldn't, so before the night wore away, I decided to go get some one who could. I went to the Banquet. I made quite a splash as a mortal. Everyone still wanted to treat me like a god, so I took a little advantage of it, and had them pay tribute. I got so much cash that I could afford to pay Silhouette's fee a thousand times over. It was time to retire, with Lisa, and live happily ever after--forever. I returned to the apartment with Caligula. He lifted the top of the casket without any effort. "Good enough?" "Yes." I looked at Lisa, she was all gray, and was covered with a fine film of dust. She was dried out. Her face was wrinkled. Her heart was in her hand. It looked like a healthy organ though. I thought of the two vampires that had been staked to the doors at the banquette, and how Lisa had said that they were merely being punished. I hoped that she would be able to be brought back. I loved her. "Wow, man, what you do to her? She's totaled." I ignored him. He had served his purpose. I gently picked up Lisa's heart (broken doors and broken vampires) and placed it again within her chest. It started beating almost right away. Her body started to fill back out. The lines disappeared from her face. Her eyes opened, and the hole in her chest closed. "Michael?" "Yes love, it's me." "You beat Nemesis." I didn't know if this was a question, or a statement, so I said nothing, as she closed her eyes again. I thought that she was going to die even after my best efforts. "Do something, Caligula." "What, man." "Feed her some of you blood." "What? No way dude. No can do. Like to help--" I held up my coin. He leaned into the coffin. Lisa drank, and drank, and Caligula had to push her away, before she killed him. "I'm leaving now. I thought you a cool dude, but I can see now that you should have been a senator." He left Lisa and me to ourselves. We didn't mind much. We made love in the bathroom, under the shower. This time we had time to be as gentle as we wanted. We were gentle several times. Nothing like a close call to death to make one's passions flare. To Kill a Thief Now that I had money to pay Silhouette I didn't care if he killed Caine or not, but I did want to wrap up all of my loose business ends. I was going to retire. I didn't want to have to make my living by being a leech. I also didn't want to kill anymore myself. Well, at least not for money anyway. By the way. When we had finished our love making earlier, she had me open the closet. In it was another suit for me, and a dress for her. There was even a .38 caliber in the jacket pocket. I think I disappointed her when I acted like I had expected this. I took Lisa out with me. I would have been a fool not too. She was my bodyguard after all. Thief was not smart. I found him in the exact same place. The nightclub. This is not what I call intelligent. He should have made it harder for me, but like I said before, Thief was always easy to find. He had a bandage over his ear, and his foot in a cast. I guess I was about the last person that he wanted to see. I think he opened his mouth to say this, but I interrupted him. "Look at me, Thief. I'm tired, and I'd just as soon kill you as fuck with you. So, just tell me what I want to know, and you get to live." "You look like someone beat the shit out of you, man." "Thanks, you look good too. Now, what do you know about Silhouette and a man named Caine?" I wanted to find out if Silhouette had made the hit yet, or if he was still underground. "Nothing I believe, but I'll tell you anyhow. I heard you hired the big S to make a hit on some guy. No shit? Well, S didn't go underground. Seems he had an irresistible shot, almost right away, so he went to take it, but someone stopped him. The mombo bitch who told me this story said that it was the Devil. Can you believe that mombo voodoo shit?" He paused to see if I was going to answer the question. I didn't feel like it so I waited till he continued. "Did you know that S uses blades--sword, and knives, and that shit?" I did, but I still didn't feel like chatting. After Thief realized this he started talking again. "I heard that S had his knife or sword or whatever held right to this guy's throat, when up comes this guy, the Devil, if you listen to Ms. Mombo Bitch, and says, 'No, do not kill this one. He is son of Adam." S just walked away. That's why I don't believe it, S has never broken a contract. Never." I thought about his story for awhile. I couldn't figure out what it meant for me. Did Silhouette really renege? or had he even tried yet? If street talk said he'd broken a contract then his perfect reputation was shot, and he wouldn't be happy with this. For all I knew, though, this story was just that, a story. "What do you think, Lisa?" "How did this lady see this, and how reliable is she?" "She's this Caine fellows landlady. Says she keeps an eye on him, because 'he's got the mark about him'. Says she saw it through the keyhole. As for reliability, she talks a lot of shit. I already told you I didn't believe it. The Devil? Come on! You know what I think?" "No, Thief, what do you think?" "I think you fucked up, man. I think you tried double-crossing the S man, and things didn't go the way you planned. He'll get you, man. You're as good as dead. That's what I think." I couldn't have talk like this on the streets. "No, Thief, you're as good as dead." I shot him. No, not in the foot, in the head. After he fell to the ground I emptied the gun into his skull, and I'd had the best of intentions too. What can I say? I was pissed. Lessons Learned Lisa and I had our first real fight after we left Thief. I didn't want to go back to her apartment. I was tired, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep in her casket. It was one thing, when I thought that she was just being kinky, but now that I knew that she was a vampire, and I no longer was, I just couldn't bring myself to come anywhere near her coffin. Okay, I can see it now. You're saying, "but she bit you. You had to know that she was a vampire," right? Well in answer to that, I can only say that her bite didn't hurt. I can't describe how it felt though. I guess you'll just have to be bit by a vampire sometime if you're really curious. I didn't want anything to do with death. I told her this. She called me a hypocrite. I hate being called a hypocrite. I'll admit to anything; racism, sexism any 'ism' you want, but I am not a hypocrite. I confess to religious prejudice, or prejudice against fat people, but I will not confess to hypocrisy. I am only myself at the time that I am myself. I cannot be expected to hold a belief permanently. So what if I dealt in death. I didn't have to like it, and I no longer had to do it. In the end the sun settled the argument. She laid down to rest. I went for a walk. I couldn't get myself to forget about her though. She was my one hope in life. Lisa was the first person to enter my life that I could look to having a future with. Crime's mother was nice, and sometimes I loved her a lot, but then I'd also catch myself looking at her in disgust, because I knew that she was dying cell by cell, atom by atom. How could I truly love someone who didn't even have the potential to live as long as I? I didn't have this problem with Lisa though. We could live, in happiness, forever, and would too, if only we could work out our differences. I already knew what was going to bother me. I don't think I could handle her devouring any 'House Specials', and there was no way I could ever bring myself to sleep with her--in her coffin I mean. I loved her. I knew I did, but I was human. She wasn't. If only I could've brought myself to have her make me a vampire again, but my life was confusing enough. I didn't need vampirism added to it. Besides, I no longer desired to have to kill to maintain my life. I was sick of death. I looked up. I had been walking for quite a ways. I didn't even really recognize the neighborhood I was in. I could probably find my way back though. Two leather jacketed punks were coming at me. I wasn't worried. I'd paid my taxes lately. When I told them I was 'Protected', they'd have to leave. One pulled out two knives. He set these to spinning around his hands rather impressively. It was almost a shame but.... "I'm Protected." One looked at the other, and smiled. The other ignored him, and didn't smile. He just kept working his knives. Okay, then, Smiley and Grim. "You can't touch me. I'm not taxable." "We don't care. Guild gone, man. Hand your money over," said Grim. I didn't want to talk nonsense with these. I had some thinking I wanted to do, and they were disturbing me. "Listen, I'm not used to killing children, for childish reasons. Either leave, or prepare to die like adults." "Tough guy, talk tough," said Smiley. "Shut up," said Grim. I thought that they were still planning on mugging me, but just lacked the courage. This meant that they were just idiots. Even if they succeeded, they wouldn't be able to live long. The Guild would hold an investigation, find them, and slowly kill them publicly, as an example, to others who would be so stupid. I knew that these punks were fair game. There was no way that they could afford to pay taxes if they were resorting to just petty mugging. If I was going to have to kill them, then I wanted to get it over, and be done with it. I pulled out my gun. "Step up to die then," I said softly. I was wishing that they'd just leave. I really didn't want to have to kill them. Grim threw one of his knives. I dodged, or tried to. It hit me high on my left shoulder. I ignored it, and shot Grim between the eyes. He dropped his other knife, and died. Smiley ran. I centered my sights on him. I didn't shoot. I let him go. Don't call me "Soft," I probably wouldn't have hit him anyway, and I got a good feeling from letting him live. I pulled the knife from my body, and let it drop to the ground. I wasn't going to report this. Smiley would be stupid to try something like this again, and Grim wasn't going to be doing anything again, except rotting in Hell. I went back to Lisa's apartment, went into the bathroom, took off my shirt, cleaned my shoulder, bandaged it, put my shirt back on, went to the living room, turned on the stereo, laid down, and passed out. Night came. Lisa woke me. "I'm sorry," she said. "So am I. I love you." "Michael." She must have just wanted to say my name, because she didn't wait for me to answer. She put her mouth on mine, and forcefully kissed me. I returned the kiss. Lisa put her hands on my shoulders. I bit her lip as I said, "Fuck!" "What's the matter?" "My shoulder, I hurt it today." She removed my shirt, and my amateur bandage, and looked at the puncture wound there. "How?" she asked. "Some punks." She put two of her fingers into her mouth, and bit. She then cupped her hands. Blood began to flow from the cuts, and fill her hand. She rubbed her blood into my wound. I watched as it closed. "Neat," I said. "Thanks." Lisa licked her fingers clean. Her cuts had also closed. "Oh, you haven't earned it yet." I grabbed her, helped her from her clothes, and by the time the night was over, I was sure that I had paid her back. In the morning I slept on the floor outside her coffin in which she rested. I was going to have to get a bed, because when I woke the next night, I was stiff. Lisa was still asleep, so I went to the shower, and did what one does in a shower. When Lisa woke, she joined me there. I was glad we had made up. "What shall we do tonight?" "Let's go dancing." I didn't usually like dancing, but I said, "Fine." She pulled the closet trick, we dressed, and left. The nightclub we went to was rather nice. At least no one was naked, or dead. Well, at least no one I could see. Lisa and I danced. It was nice. I held her to my body tightly. I could feel her breasts through our clothes. She was moving her hips against mine. I was getting aroused. We had made love only a few hours before, and she was completely nude then, but now, when she was dressed, I wanted her even more. The people around us disappeared. Only Lisa and I existed, and I was starting to have doubts about myself. I felt Lisa stiffen, as someone brushed up against me, and I wondered if my wallet was still there, but I didn't really care. I didn't even check. I kept dancing. Lisa kissed my neck, I thought she was going to bite me again. It was then that I realized she hadn't had blood since Caligula fed her from himself. I looked at her carefully. There were little lines about her eyes. Easy to miss, but I was sure that they hadn't been there before. I was worried. What was she doing? She couldn't deny her nature, anymore than I could mine. I didn't know what to say. "Lisa." She kissed my ear. "Lisa." I stopped dancing. She must have known my thoughts. Maybe it was something to do with the rings. She turned away. I put my hand on her shoulder, and forced her to look at me. "Why, Lisa?" "For you, Michael. I don't want you to hate me. I couldn't live if you did. I love you." "I couldn't hate you for being what you are. It's not your fault. If you want to find fault, then yell to God, but I'll tell you what good that will do you--nothing." Just then Lisa touched my face. I think she was going to say something, but instead she pushed me. I tumbled to the ground. My neck felt as though it had been broken. It wasn't though. I could still move my hands and feet. Why had she pushed me? I hadn't really seen it, but she had good reason. A dagger, and it had been heading right for my head. Lisa was now holding it. She had plucked it right out of the air. She was now searching the crowd. She didn't find what she was looking for. I got up. I had forgotten how fast and strong vampires were. I thought back to a moment before, when I had 'forced' her to look at me. Forced hell, if she hadn't let me, then there would have been nothing I could have done about it. She handed me the dagger. There was a stylized 'S' on the pommel. No wonder she hadn't seen anyone in the crowed. So, Silhouette wanted me now, and it appeared that he had gone rogue, and didn't care that I was Protected. Either that or the Guild had collapsed like those thug kids had said. Well, if Silhouette did come after me, I always had Lisa to protect me. We left. Lisa fed on the way home. I'll spare you the disgusting details, but trust me when I say they were disgusting. I again slept at the foot of her casket. At first it was not a pleasant sleep, I kept thinking of Silhouette, and trying to figure out what it all meant, but eventually I fell into a dreamless slumber. When I woke, there were still two hours of sunlight left. I left Lisa a note, and left myself. I went to see Crime. A Second Crime Her receptionist showed me in. Crime must have gotten used to my physical age changing, because now I was back to my seventeen year old looking self, and she didn't even flinch. I wondered what she thought of having a father who was immortal. Her mother had died in childbirth, so I was the only family that she had. I would outlive her. She didn't seem to care though, but then again she was only fourteen. She probably didn't yet feel mortal. "Hello, father. Can I help you?" "No, just stopped over to chat." "Okay, then let's start with--you look awful." I suppose I probably did. I had been through quite a lot lately. "Yeah, well you look good." She did too. She always looked good. I had heard that a lot of her customers had propositioned her, instead of her girls, but she always turned them down. I don't really know why. Maybe she actually had some morals, as highly impossible as that was. "I killed Love." "I heard. I also heard that it was under unusual circumstances." "Yeah, I haven't been out in the daylight much lately, but hey, don't believe everything you hear." "I know, you can't trust anyone these days." "Anything new?" "Atlantis-Prime was destroyed, but I bet you already new that." I hadn't, but I didn't tell her that. This must have been what the punks were talking about. I thought on this for a second. Atlantis-Prime was a city of politicians. It was said that even the Council made their home there. It was off the coast of California somewhere. It was almost impossible to become a citizen there. You had to have an income that was measured by the tons. I wondered how it was destroyed. It was supposed to be impregnable. It was even completely underwater. Confused? Okay, compare the Guild to a European feudal system. The Council, which I believe only has six members, would then be the top royalty. The Guild, of which I am a member, would have been the minor nobles. The rest of the world would then be made up of commoners, or peasants. If Atlantis-Prime was gone, and if the Council did live there, and they were gone too, then people in my profession would soon start to feel chaos falling down about there heads. What would happen if there were no longer any Guild regulations? Was this why I had been attacked, and Silhouette felt safe taking me with a signed blade? Was the Guild falling apart--going to shit? "What of the Council?" "It's rumored that there are now two seats open." Her eyes lit up as she said this, but I dismissed this. There was no way Crime could aspire to the Council. "At least it wasn't completely--" I felt a little tug at my finger just then. I looked down. It was the dragon ring. I had almost forgotten it. It was hot. It also seemed tighter than it usually was. "Father, what's wrong?" Crime asked. I must have looked confused. "Michael!" It was Lisa's voice. I jumped up. "Did you hear that?" "What?" !He's opening it Michael THE SUN! The ring constricted around my finger. I yelled as it drew tight enough to amputate the digit. There was a crunch of bone, and blood flowed freely. I looked at my hand. I was indeed missing my ring finger. I forgot it. I ran from the office. I wished I hadn't left her. I had to get to Lisa. I had to, even though I could feel that it was too late. Oh, but to Die! I kicked open the door, and ran to the bedroom. The casket was open. I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been. It wasn't as if I could have opened it. I was no vampire, and the lid alone weighed at least half a ton. Lisa was in the coffin. She lay dead. Blood matted her beautiful blond hair. There was a look of blind terror on her face. Her killer must have taken his time. The condition of the body proved that. There was a hole where her heart should have been. Her head and both hands were cut from her body. The bastard had stolen her heart. How had he opened the coffin? It was impossible. Why hadn't I just waited just two more hours for Lisa to rise? Why? "No!" I screamed. No one heard me. There was a little note clasped tightly in one of her amputated hands. I grabbed it. I didn't want to open it. If I did it would be an ending of sorts. I still didn't want to admit that Lisa could be anything but alive. A poem I once read came to mind. "I know there's some cosmic deity up there fucking with me. He's no god of light. Every time things are going right He turns the tables and cuts the cables, and lets this poor puppet fall," I whispered, because this was what I felt like. The note was tied with a little piece of black ribbon. I had to some time or another. Hesitantly, I opened it. "You're next." --S-- Fuck. Just fuck. I couldn't bring myself to stay in the apartment. I left Lisa where she was. What could I have done for her? She was dead, and there was absolutely nothing I could do. Nothing. An End of Sorts I knew where I was, but I felt lost. I was wandering the streets. As I had been doing most of the day. The only time I wasn't walking in a daze was when I had again stopped off at Crime's. Why had he done it? Lisa hadn't done anything, but love me. She didn't deserve death. Why does bad haunt those who deserve it least? I wanted Silhouette. I wanted him dead, even though I knew I wouldn't be the one to kill him. I wasn't good enough to do that, but I'd welcome the chance if it came my way. This was how I found myself walking the night. I wasn't hiding. If Silhouette had decided that he wanted me, then I wanted to make myself easy to find. The sector of the city I was in was run down. It used to house welfare recipients, bums, and the parasites that always seemed to feed off these; drugstores, liqueur stores, and lottery stands, but since the Guild took over, it housed no one. If you're not productive, well, then you don't deserve to live. If you don't deserve to live--you die. Simple fact. Most people today are productive, very productive. Why did I think Silhouette would be able to find me here? Well, I thought that if I was to go someplace where it might look like I had the advantage, oh let's say the Banquet, then Silhouette would just wait until I left. I wanted him to feel like he could just take me. If he wanted me half as bad as I wanted him, then he had probably been following me all day. If Thief was still alive I would have let myself be seen by him. Then the word would have gotten around quickly. As it was I had only stopped off to say good-bye to Crime, and ask her to "hold onto the money" I had gotten from the Banquet. I bought a bottle of alcohol earlier. I had no intention of drinking it though. I had only bought it as a diversion, like I was going to go hide somewhere, and drink my sorrows away. I had this in hand as it started to rain. I went into an old building to take shelter. I found a light switch. I threw it for a kick. I didn't think that there would be any power. Lights flooded the hallway. I left the hall, entered a dark room, and let the door close behind me. It was dark. I couldn't find anything to change this with either, but that was okay, the lighting fit my mood fine. I felt like someone was watching me. Paranoia? Maybe, but if anything, it was wishful thinking. I wanted Silhouette. As they say, be careful what you wish for you just might.... "Stryke." The voice came from nowhere. I couldn't place the direction of the speaker, but I could tell that he was far enough away for me to answer safely. "What do you want with me?" "You set me up," said the same incorporeal voice. It sounded familiar. I was hoping. I wanted him. "Silhouette?" Out of the darkness came footsteps. They were running. I flinched, dropped the liqueur bottle, spun as it crashed to the floor, and drew my .38. The footsteps were getting louder, but I couldn't tell where they were coming from. I felt the blow to the back of my head at the same time I heard the voice whisper, "Yes, Silhouette." I fired into stars. Silhouette laughed. "I can kill you anytime I want. Your gun means nothing." Staying low, I backed up until I hit a wall. I began to move along it. I reached back and touched my head. There was a lump and two parallel gashes. I was still seeing stars, though they were clearing. I was trying to be as quiet as possible, but I must have been making some noise, enough to let Silhouette know where I was anyway. I heard a 'think' next to my right ear. I stopped and felt there. I touched a dagger. My hand came away sticky wet. The wetness made my fingers numb, but that was all. I could only assume that it was a poisoned blade. I had no cuts on my hand, so I considered myself lucky. I didn't want any devil's brew entering into my system. "I didn't set you up. I don't know what you're talking about." "Caine was unkillable. I've never failed before. Now it is time for you to die." I thought about telling him that I too could not die, but I decided on a different course of action instead. I fired at Silhouette's voice, even if I couldn't pinpoint it in the darkness. I was sure I missed, but still I hoped. I started moving again. I knew Silhouette thought he could kill me at any time, and he was probably right, but I wasn't going to just sit and wait for him to do so. In my search in the dark I came across a roll bar door. I pushed it open. Bright light flooded my eyes. I could hardly see. I shielded my eyes and slid through the door. It slammed shut behind me. I ran till I came across another door. This one was on the opposite side of the hall than the door I'd just exited. I opened it. I entered it. I closed it. It was the entrance to the service-way where I now found myself standing. This was lit by an emergency light, that had probably been on for years. The landing I was on was wooden and littered with cleaning materials. There was a staircase going up and a staircase going down. I grabbed a broom handle, and barred the door. I knew that this wouldn't stop a determined old lady, let alone Silhouette, but it made me feel a little safer. Next, I grabbed one of three five gallon buckets of solvent. It was difficult to handle with my missing finger. I screwed off the cap, poured it all over the landing, and climbed the stairs, dousing them as I went. I hoped that if Silhouette found this service-way that he would think I went down instead of up. I hoped that the flames would make him unable to follow me, even if he did decide that I went up. I hoped that there was a way out that I could take, that would lose Silhouette. I hoped a lot, and knowing Silhouette (which I didn't), and my luck (which I seemed to have none of), I was in trouble. From the next landing I lit the stairs. They went up faster than I expected--a lot faster. Smoke, heat, and a terrible solvent smell quickly took over the air. I started up the steps. I tried the first door I came across. It was locked. I tried the second door I came across. It was locked. I was about to try the third door, when I heard twin explosions from three stories down. I looked down. A sheet of flame was coming at me. I tried running faster. I almost made it another story before the flames engulfed me. I had to close my eyes. I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. I could only feel my hair and my clothes burning. I kept climbing. If I was going to die I didn't want it to be because of my own stupidity. I don't know how long this continued. I just remember running for as long as I could. I then crawled through my own personal Hell for eternity. I knocked into something at the same time that I had decided that I could go no farther. I groped, and found a roll bar. I slammed it open, and collapsed on cold wet hard stone. I took great gasping breaths of air. I started to stand. I passed out. When I came to the stone was warm. I stood up. I was on the roof. There was smoke coming out of the door I'd passed out through earlier. There was a skylight on the roof. The skylight was glowing. It was still raining. It was coming down warm and wet. Rain has a way of doing that. I heard an explosion. I looked over my shoulder. The skylight had blown out, and glass was falling. Flames were shooting high into the air. Heat was rising. I gripped my pistol, trying for some sense of security. It didn't work. It just made me realize that my hands were sweating. No surprise there. I ran to the edge of the roof, and looked down. That was a mistake. There was too much damn smoke. I couldn't see the ground. It was too dark. The only light came from the flames themselves. I knew how high I was, entirely too high, but I just wished I could have seen something besides flame and gray smoke. "Stryke!" I turned and fired. I missed. He had his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. I still had three rounds. I didn't feel like I had any advantage. I kept my .38 pointed at his head. There was another explosion. It wasn't from my gun. Neither of us looked away. To have done so would have meant death. I didn't know how he made it up here, and at the time I didn't care. The heat was becoming uncomfortable. Even the stone I was standing on was hot. "We're both going to die," I said. "Yes, but you first." A clock somewhere in the city struck midnight. Everything always happens at midnight. I shot again. My hand was shaking bad. He fell straight back, not because he wanted to, but because he had slipped on the slick stone surface. I knew I hadn't hit him though. I saw the round ricochet off the wide ledge surrounding the roof. I quickly re-aimed and fired. This time I had the satisfaction of hearing a round impact with soft flesh. I shot him yet again with my last round. Silhouette went into convulsions, then became still. I couldn't believe it. It felt anticlimactic. It was. The end of Silhouette. I couldn't bring myself to become too excited though. It was too hard to believe, and too hard to breathe, my eyes hurt, tears flowed freely, I knew I was about to be burned beyond any hope of recognition, so forgive me if I didn't immediately celebrate. I turned, and threw my gun away. It wouldn't do me anymore good. I was sick of looking at it anyway. I didn't want to see another gun for a long time. As I stood over Silhouette's dead body, wiping the rain from my eyes, I thought, "An eye for an eye, the score was even. He was the best. He killed my love." I killed him, but were we even? Not even close. I hurt, and I was about to be consumed by flames. I took a staggering step, then another. Then I heard a moan. I looked back in shock. Silhouette was standing. I looked around for a weapon. Nothing offered itself. He still had his sword and dagg. I wished I had a gun. Silhouette's shirt was sticking wetly to his side, and he limped badly when he tried to take a step forward, but he was still alive. Fuck. Shit. I should have stomped his head, crushed his damn skull. I should've at least made sure he was dead. Silhouette was going to die though. If the bullets didn't kill him the fire would. This was little comfort. Silhouette reversed his grip on the dagger, brought it back even with his cheek, smiled a silver tongued smile, and let it fly. I felt it take me in my right eye. I fell back. Two things stick out in my mind about these last few moments. For a second, I actually considered praying, and I wished I had paid more attention in Sunday school. I also wondered, as the flames rose, how my immortality would deal with this. The answer to the question was completely different than I expected. I thought, to my utter horror, that I would live through this. I thought I would be blind in one eye because of the dagger, and blind in the other because of flame. I thought I would be horribly disfigured; a living tortured mass of scar tissue. I didn't expect to be transported to right outside of a church. I was no longer wet. It was still night. The rain had stopped, but I was naked. I thought maybe the flames had burned my clothes away, but none of the hair was gone from my body. In fact, even the hair that had been singed in the stairway fire had been restored and was again intact. Another strange thing--I had no wounds. My eye was fine. There were no gashes on the back of my head. Even my finger had regenerated. This transportation and healing must have had something to do with the coin that I still had. It was clutched in my left hand. I still was unaware of all its powers. I knew that my soul supposedly resided within it, but I was starting to doubt this. I don't know why, but I just felt that my soul was mine (at least until I died) and within me. The coin had powers over undead, it made me immortal, but this was all I really knew about it. The healing and transportation needed more study. This was interesting but inconsequential The church, this was what I was thinking of right before the end there. It was what I had been thinking of since Lisa died. I found myself actually wanting to repent. I wanted this to all be over. Without Lisa, I would no longer be living life because I enjoyed life, I would only be living because I feared Hell--feared Hell a lot. I didn't think it would work. Lisa had said she was unable to enter. Why should I be any different? Not only had I once killed as a vampire, I had also sold my soul. No, I didn't think it would work, but I had made up my mind to try. I was going to place the coin in the offering plate. I paced back and forth in front of the church. I felt nothing spectacular, nothing to inspire awe. It felt safe. I stopped, flipped the coin for what I hoped to be the last time--Heads--and reached out and touched the door. There was a white flash. I could actually hear my flesh burn. I won't describe the pain. I won't, because I can't. Pain is impossible to remember. You can remember that something did hurt, but you can't remember how it felt. I looked at my left hand. The palm was the color of gray ash, but here was no way that I could enter a closed door. I reached out with the same hand and grasped the handle. There was the same bright flash. I ignored it, and pulled open the door. Pure light poured forth. I closed my eyes. I realized, to my anguish, that I was still holding the door. I let go and stepped forward. I felt like I was walking through deep water. There was resistance to my every move. I opened my eyes. The light was coming from the altar, the stained glass windows, and every cross. I never before noticed how many crosses there were in a church. I started down the aisle. It was getting harder to move. The light was getting brighter, if that was possible. I shut my eyes to slits. I was halfway to the altar when I found I was unable to go any farther. It was like I was pushing against clay. There was a little give, but not enough for any real forward movement. My whole body burned. It was like when I went into sunlight as a vampire. I looked down at my skin. Little wisps of fire were dancing on my whole body. There was much pain. I looked behind me. The exit was so close. The altar so far away. There was no turning back now. I dropped to just my knees, and started moving forward again. This worked for a while, then I found myself on my hands and knees, then I was completely prone, pushing with my feet and pulling with the hand not holding the coin. My muscles screamed. I couldn't lift my head. I mention this because I saw movement out of the corner of my right eye. It was coming closer. I ignored it. I kept crawling. I made it another three whole inches before I saw shoes. They were black. They were shiny. They were connected to black legs that went up higher than I could look. I again tried to lift my head. I tried, but there was too much weight. I only raised it a few inches. My head slammed into the floor. I saw stars. Stars and shiny black shoes. The loudest sound I ever heard came crashing in, crushing my eardrums. I was amazed I didn't pass out. For once I really wished to die. That was the whole point of this, wasn't it? Save my soul and die. The same sound came again. It wasn't so bad this time though. I could hardly hear it. I didn't have working eardrums. I could only feel it as small sharp waves of indescribable pain. I felt a hand on my shoulder. It rolled me on my back. I looked up. It was a priest. His face was kind. He was bald. I realized, as he spoke again, that the unbearable noise was his voice. Wave after wave crashed upon me with every word. He stopped talking when he figured out that his speaking was hurting me. I wondered how I looked. I was naked. I was crawling up an aisle in a church. I wanted to laugh. I tried. I couldn't. I held out my left hand. In it I had the coin. I tried to hand the two-headed silver American dollar to the priest, but I couldn't lift my arm. Even when I wanted to get rid of the damn coin, I couldn't. I wanted to cry. I tried. I could. I did. I closed my eyes, and dropped the coin six inches to the floor. I heard no noise as it hit. I laid there like this for only a short while before the priest tapped me on the shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was holding my coin and gesturing for me to take it. I sat up. I was amazed that I could. I stood up. I looked again at the priest. He was holding out the coin. He must have thought that I was a bum. He didn't want to take my last dollar. The light was gone. The priest's lips were moving, but no sound came forth. I walked to the altar rail, kneeled before it, and prayed. I told God of all the sins that I knew I had committed. I asked forgiveness for these. I also asked him to have mercy on me for all the sins I had forgotten. I felt forgiven. This may seem simple. I don't know what else to say, other than it was. No profound revelation, no manifesting of some holy being, only a simple lifting of my spirit. I got up, and walked to the holy water font. My every move hurt. I was hunched over. I could not stand up straight. The holy water was by the exit. I went to dip my hand in the water when I saw what it looked like; my hand that is. It was gnarled and covered with large brown spots. I held it up. It was livid. The skin was loose and wrinkled. The hair was light. I looked at my other hand. It too was wrinkled and old. So this was the price? Age. I was old. I found that this fact did not disturb me. I was happy I was old. When I finally died I would be saved. I dipped my hand, made the sign of the cross, and exited, into the night, a deaf old man. Crime And Punishment I look into the mirror in fear of what I'll see, my twin in hate, staring back at me. I touch his cold fingertips, and kiss his polished lips. He mimics my every move, mocking my very existence. I laugh at him in his glass prison, and make him silently reflect my cynical mirth. I close my eyes, and pretend I don't exist, forcing him to do the same. It's a little game we play, and I hope we both do play. I know he wishes to be free-- free to become me, but I wonder if I was in there, and he was out here, would I even care? Opening my eyes, this evil reflection of me is all I can see. I hang my head down and cry, 'cause my twin and I are nothing but a pathetic lie. for Amy The Dying Ritual Part 2 Crime And Punishment Revelations Death and Damnation Family For the Love of Satan The Church Emperor Caligula Once Again, the Church Cord and Discord Body Sweat The Little Boy's Kiss Spirit Death of an Emperor Closing of Options The Council All That Could Be Desired Revelations Somewhere, a man took without permission, and he couldn't understand why the woman cried, small warm tears. He hadn't hurt her had he? He wouldn't have even torn her clothes if she hadn't tried to resist. He would remember, forever, the ripping sound as threads snapped, and flesh was exposed. The sound hadn't been loud at all, but it would never escape his memory. Threads pull, tear, and become useless, and only the rape had nothing to do with anything. I picked up my father's pale finger, and the dragon ring next to it, and in a burning rage sat down at my desk. Why was it that I always seemed to come so close, yet never succeed? When my father's secretary had quit, I talked him into taking one of my whores as a replacement. I had hoped that she would have been able to get it for me, but the bitch had tried to blackmail me instead. Me! I killed her, right outside my father's office. When Markham was dead I knew that I had to come up with a different plan. I hired Willie Peat. He actually got the damn thing, but before I was able to receive it, my father stepped into the scene, and blew his face off. I even hired Silhouette and manipulated Satan, but still I did not have the coin. I picked up the phone. "Send in Libby." I found myself playing with the finger as I waited. I peeled back the skin at the base. I could see the bone, white like marble. Blood was coagulated and thick at the torn edges. It was hard to believe that this was my father's. The ring was interesting too. I put it on. It clenched tightly once, strange, then relaxed till it was a comfortable fit. It looked nice. There was a knock at the door. I opened a desk drawer and placed the finger within. "Enter." A plump older woman walked into my office. Some considered her voluptuous. I thought she was fat and disgusting, but she was reliable, and she did business, so I tolerated her. She was never going to be anything in life though. I was so much more than her. Here I was, almost fourteen, and I already owned and ran my own brothel. I didn't consider myself a Madam. I hate that title. No, I was a pimp. Thanks to my father killing my main rival, I now ran the largest House in the city. I had over three hundred girls, forty-some men or boys, and at least fifty Biologically Enhanceds. The only person who had ever had a bigger House than mine was Love, and he was the one my father had killed. "Libby, I may be leaving soon, for a few days, on business. I want you to take over if I do. Just keep things running." "Yes, Lyla." I calmly stood up, walked over to her, and slapped her across the face. A large red welt appeared. "Never call me that name. You know better than that. Next time you will be laying on the floor. Now get out of my office." She left, her fat ass sliding side to side as she did so. I couldn't figure out why my father had left so fast. He asked me if I could hear something, then stood up, and looked at his finger in terror, and it just fell from his hand. Blood ran, so did my father. He left my office in a dreadful hurry. Every time I thought of my father I thought of the way he's always treated me. To him I'm special. I remind him of my mother, or at least he's fond of telling me so. Sometimes he treats me with so much love that I hate him for it. Everything I've ever got, I paid for in one way or another. My father probably felt like he had done a lot for me in his life, but he had never given me anything. I had earned it all. He'd lent me the money to start the Shop. I paid him back, in full, with interest in less than a year. He killed Love for me. This was about the best thing he had ever done for me, but I paid him for this also. I gave him one of my girls. A peculiar girl by the name of Lisa. Lisa. Now I had hoped that I would find some way to exploit her, and maybe I still would, but if Silhouette had accomplished what we had planned, then she was dead by now. Sure, my father gave me life, but it wasn't like he was the only one involved. There was also my mother, who paid that debt for me, with her life. She died giving birth to me. I can remember my father's face when I first told him that I wanted to get into prostitution. He always underestimated me. I could see his shock. He'd thought that I'd wanted to become a whore. I cannot even imagine that. Me a prostitute? Never! I've always earned what I've gotten, but I wouldn't ever lie on my back for a living. I reopened the drawer containing the finger, drew it out, and also a little charm I had bought from some voodoo lady. She had guaranteed that it was able to summon the Devil, and that He could not refuse. It was called simply the Talisman. The voodoo lady had instructed me on its use, and I had already tried it. I touched it in the way that I was supposed to, and said that which was to be said, and looked up. It was simple. I had only to caress it, and offer it the promise of blood. He would come. "Give Me My due." I was again surprised when I summoned Him. He was dressed completely in black. He was strangely attractive. I threw Him my father's wilted finger. He caught it, and clenched it tightly. He closed His eyes. A look of pleasure came about His face. He opened His hand. Ashes fluttered to the floor like snow. "Acceptable?" I asked. "Yes. This one has thwarted Me too many times. It was sweet just to have this little taste. What can I do for you?" "Kill him, kill my father." "It will be done." He faded until I wasn't sure if He was there any longer. I blinked. When I opened my eyes I was sure that He was gone. I kicked my feet up on my desk, closed my eyes, and tried to relax. I fell into a dream troubled sleep. I stood before a jury, and I was trying to convince them why I should be allowed to continue my existence. I gave them one reason after another, but they kept asking, "But why?" I tried to tell them that