Flash Fiction No. 25


The Best Offence

He’d only ever taken two lives. This one had been on purpose.

He stuffed his stained hands in his trousers. Footfalls echoed all around him on the pavement. He kept his head down, moving hurriedly but unnoticed in his grey suit. Wearing grey was like being invisible; you were too drab to pay attention to.

He fought the urge to ruffle back through his hair. Don’t show agitation and certainly do not show bloodied hands. Eyes surreptitiously scanned the crowd. His jacket was buttoned, hiding the sprays of crimson on his crisp white shirt. Never wear white when killing.

If only he’d remembered.

He’d been taught all of these things by his father, but he’d never thought he’d use them. That was before they’d come. That was before he’d been chased through the streets like a rabid creature. That was before he’d had to defend himself. The best defence is a good offence.

He’d been taught the best offence: cut them dead.

So that was what he’d done. If only he hadn’t been so panicked he would have remembered his lessons.

A low car crawled up beside him, the back window shimmying down. He glanced through the gap. She watched him, shades dipped so he could see her steely eyes.

“That was quick work.”

“What do you want?” he half growled. His fists clenched tightly beneath the denim of his jeans.

An icy smile. “It would be better for you if you helped us.”

He spat, saliva tacking to the pavement. “Join a load of vampires? Give me a break.”

Her lips compressed. She was sensing the crowd, trying to determine if anybody had heard. They hadn’t. They wouldn’t. He just liked to get a rise out of her, the cold veins in her face bluer than ever.

“We can pay.”

“I have a job.” He kept walking. There was no way he was getting trapped into this. He’d heard the stories.

“How long do you think a man of your… talents will go unnoticed, Luke?” Her voice was like perfumed smoke, curling around him and killing him with its delicious scent.

He snorted defensively.

Manicured fingers brushed his arm, stilling him as if her touch was ice. His eyes shifted back to her. She made him burn like the coldest frost. Her tongue dipped, delving out to mist her lips. “I like you, Luke.” Her eyes penetrated his.

He shifted onto his other foot, unable to move his gaze away. Blood pounded in his ears.

“I want you,” she murmured low so her driver could not hear.

This time he was worried someone might be listening too. He swallowed the thickness in his throat. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Even as he growled he could see the flux of wanton desire in her half-shaded eyes, feel it in the strange pulse pushed by those fingertips that barely touched his arm.

“I know what I’m saying.”

“Not after last time.” He tried to draw himself away, but his feet stayed still. “You know we’d both be turned on.”

“Get in the car, Luke.” His hand went to the handle before he could stop it. He paused, eyes fixed on her. She mouthed her murmur once more and he couldn’t help himself. So what if werewolves and vampires couldn’t mix?

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