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Scene #36
He was at the door, the human guard, the fear-smell strong even
through the 3-inch wood. He entered, and before I could shield my
eyes, the lights flared on. Precious moments wasted as my eyes
recovered from the shock—someone had installed some sort of
high-intensity strobe! The mortal was unaffected. Even before I
had recovered, his hands were on my shoulders, pulling me around...
And then I recognized him, my hands stilled just short of the
blow that would break his neck. His familiar scent, familiar
because I had worked with him for almost three years now, well,
three years of nights at least... He had pulled back,
startled by my swift response. "Well, hello again, Mark."
My hooded cloak fell back from my face then, and he gasped.
Obviously, he had known about the strobe. It hadn't caught him by
surprise. Therefore, he had set this trap. He hadn't planned for
what he'd caught, however, that much was obvious, from the
wounded, betrayed look on his face. He had a gun in his hands,
and I think he knew enough just how to load that gun, so I made no
more sudden moves. He was hyped—pure adrenaline rush, no more
sleep in his eyes—and I knew his reactions could counter even my
speed, in such a confined space. "Wish you'd have gotten that
promotion, and the bigger office, Mark. I don't want to hurt
you..." "You! But... how did you get in? You couldn't have come
past me." "You were sleeping, Mark." I tried to make him
believe it; tried to save his life. "No, I would have noticed.
The only... entrance was wired too. Huh. You've made yourself an
entrance, I see." His gaze slid past my shoulder to the window,
where a "security" strip dangled by just one bolt. These high-rises
had to be suicide proof, keep all those young execs from breaking
their necks on a plunge, city building code. He had learned much;
he avoided my gaze. "Mark, you're mistaken. Maybe the alarm
doesn't work." Still he avoided the salvation I offered him, didn't
look into my eyes. "No. It works." The gun came up again from
its shallow dip, not enough distraction. He knew what my kind were
capable of. He'd seen my work, although he hadn't know it then. "I
knew someone would come, I just... didn't expect you. I mean... I
suspected... but... I hoped it wasn't true." "Mark, you must
listen. Look at me, Mark." "No!" Vehement. the gun stopped
wavering, centered on my heart. "I know what you are trying to do,
but it won't work." "Just listen, and look into my eyes, and it
will all go away, and you can live." I tried a step forward, as
subtle as I could, the wolf creeping up silently on prey, but it
wasn't enough. "Stop, or I will kill you. You remember what I
told you last week. I went to see the jeweler." Silver, then. He
had actually found someone in this age to do it! I had to admire
his persuasiveness. I stopped of course, held my hands out from
the cloak, showing him I meant no harm. No sense ending 700 years
right here. "Good. Now listen to me. Sit down in that chair."
The gun wavered again, but not long enough. I slowly sat. From his
second-hand army jacket, Mark produced a pair of handcuffs, tossed
them at my face. Reflex caught them. "Put them on—through the arm
of the chair." I leaned forward slightly, to do as he said, and
as my cloak fell forward, I seized my opportunity—a
military-style dagger, taken from the pimp, the one who failed to
show tonight, to tell us what had happened to "his girls". But I
suppose my mortal heart betrayed me, for the knife just missed his,
pinning his gun arm to the wall instead, through the heavy canvas.
His distraction was enough that time, and I leaped. There would
be no time for metamorphosis, with the rising sun leaching my
strength away, boiling my blood beneath my skin. Glass shattered
around me, the sunlight seared my vision away, and all the rest was
falling fire, until I hit the ground, and the cooling shadows
below. Even the immortal feel the impact of an eleven-story fall.
Skull and spine crushed, all I could do was surrender to the
blood-haze behind my scalded eyelids, and drop forever into
darkness. And wait, for un-death to restore me.
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