29.9.2008
The Widow Maker
Vincent’s keen eyesight cut through the fog, singeing over the towering steel buildings like a guided laser. He was searching for something lost, something that he would probably never reclaim. "Master, are we going to be out in this nasty stuff much longer?" Kregg inquired, walking five steps behind Vincent, his back arched like an inquisitive ferret. Kregg didn’t like the fog, he was more of a homebody and would choose a good book and a tattered coverlet to snuggle inside of, any day over an outdoor excursion. Vincent stopped abruptly in the trail, unable to avoid Kregg’s clumsy clash. However, it had been expected. Kregg had been with him a long while now, almost two centuries. At this point, his servant had become very predictable. And that’s how Vincent preferred things; predictable. His eyes molded over Kregg’s bent form, coming to rest on his intense looking face that was shaped like a wild rat’s, the chin long and pointed. Kregg shrugged, his bent form temporarily unbalanced, one side shorter than the other as he tenderly eased out, "Not complaining, Master. It’s just that we have been out here for a terribly long time. I was hoping to bake a cherry pie before sunrise." The left side of Vincent’s upper lip curled spontaneously and he emitted a rough, frightening growl. "You speak about a pie when I’ve lost all that is important to me?" he challenged. Kregg shrugged again, a bit lower to the ground as he had squatted in reaction to his Master’s growl. "Forgive me, Master? I-I can be so scatterbrain at times. You-you are aware of such." He paused and half-bowed, not exactly a great feat as he was already close to the ground. Kregg continued, "I understand your loss." Vincent’s lip relaxed and he drew the black cape around himself, for some reason reaping a bit of comfort from his efforts. They had reached the outskirts of the steel city and were swiftly moving towards the nucleus. Vincent had decided they would begin the search there, which seemed logical as they had walked down Main Street multiple times that evening at the Medieval Faire. And a poor display of a Faire at that! Wenches in polyester – and polyester had been ‘out’ since the twentieth century; organ grinders carting ugly little monkeys; and there was another creature at the Faire supporting a widow’s peak and a red cape with an awfully big ‘S’. No sight of half-dressed dancing gypsies, no juggling jugglers, no velvets for the wenches – yes, an absolute mockery of the medieval era. The food offerings were equally atrocious! The year 2785, and Jiffy Pop popcorn still lived. Go figure. Kregg interrupted his trail of thoughts with, "Personally, I think it was the monkey in the red hat that stole your wallet." "I hate monkeys," Vincent drawled, his assessment easily drawn as the smell of leftover horse manure, riddling the concrete road, suddenly danced in the air. There had been plenty of horses at the Faire, large ones with huge hooves and dangling participles to match. But Vincent wasn’t so certain that the thief was the monkey with the red hat. But one thing was certain; the thief was experienced, for his wallet had been chained tightly to his white satin vest. Two hours later, they had searched within the circumference of the steel city, coming up empty-handed. Kregg desperately needed a bath, his oxfords coated in remnants of horse manure. He wasn’t very agile and had found more manure than he’d been able to bypass. They were standing near the courthouse, Vincent devising a new strategy. Kregg deterred his thoughts as he asked, "How much longer? Before sunrise?" Vincent observed the eastern horizon in the distance, the view crippled by the towering steel. A soft sphere of gold mirrored across the sky, a telltale that sunrise was swiftly approaching. "I’m not quite certain," Vincent eased out through tightly clenched teeth. He wasn’t having a good evening at all. That wallet contained the last photo that had been taken of him as a human. It was precious, not replaceable. He had carried it, over two hundred years now, without flaw. To lose his treasure at the hand of his ignorance was almost too depressing to contemplate. However, it seemed that the wallet, and more importantly the photo, was lost…forever lost in this sea of towering steel, a city whose insides were as cold as his own. "Looking for this?" Kregg screamed, as the high-pitched voice had shocked him. Vincent reacted with agile speed and preciseness, twirling, revolving until he faced their intruder. He suddenly pulled back as his face was shadowed with a gold cross, and he shielded it with his cape in an attempt to protect himself. "There…there….that’s good," the female eased out, Vincent aware by the sound of her voice that she found herself clever. "What do you seek?" he managed to drag out. Kregg had collapsed into a heap beneath him. No cherry pie tonight. "Perhaps it is I who should be asking you that question," the woman jerked out, following her mocking statement with a shrill laugh. She sounded like a bat that had inhaled an unfair share of laughing gas, Vincent decided as he tried to find a way out of their predicament. "But," she continued, pausing to fill the air with her painful laugh again, "I know what you seek! This?" she questioned, cramming Vincent’s wallet in front of his face. If not for the cross, he would have taken off her head faster than a mouse on cheese. "Yes…that’s it…mine." "Yes, yours," she admitted, the laugh suddenly extinguished. "Tell you what. I’ll lower my cross if I have your word that we can chat about an agreeable arrangement, eh? Want to strike a bargain, pretty boy?" "There…there….that’s good," the female eased out, Vincent aware by the sound of her voice that she found herself clever. "What do you seek?" he managed to drag out. Kregg had collapsed into a heap beneath him. No cherry pie tonight. "Perhaps it is I who should be asking you that question," the woman jerked out, following her mocking statement with a shrill laugh. She sounded like a bat that had inhaled an unfair share of laughing gas, Vincent decided as he tried to find a way out of their predicament. "But," she continued, pausing to fill the air with her painful laugh again, "I know what you seek! This?" she questioned, cramming Vincent’s wallet in front of his face. If not for the cross, he would have taken off her head faster than a mouse on cheese. "Yes…that’s it…mine." "Yes, yours," she admitted, the laugh suddenly extinguished. "Tell you what. I’ll lower my cross if I have your word that we can chat about an agreeable arrangement, eh? Want to strike a bargain, pretty boy?" "I need a favor," she began, her eyes not leaving Vincent’s face. "In exchange for this, of course," she tacked on, holding up the wallet as she spoke, tempting the donkey with the carrot. "Favor? Explain. I haven’t a lot of time." Vincent ground out, his voice sounding as though it had been crafted from the steel of the city. "I know. Sunrise is soon," she eased out thoughtfully. "I’ll make it quick, then. Your wallet in exchange for making me a widow." Vincent narrowed his dark eyes at her, a bit taken aback. For the first time in his current form - a Vampire, he was actually being asked to kill. She shook her head, her long black locks flying about her. "He’s not fun anymore. I need a new playmate, someone younger, smarter, and richer. Sits around, drinks beer, complains about dogs." "Dogs?" Vincent echoed, feeling a bit redundant. "Um. Have 12 of them, an even dozen," the vixen giggled. "And he complains about their barking, when in fact, that is all that he does! Bark, bark, bark. Complain, complain, complain! Worthless! A worthless fool!" She paused from her delirium, then eased out in a kinder voice, "Nonetheless, simply kill him in return for your wallet." Vincent stood eyeing her up; she held his gaze, unflinching, determined, and obviously proud of her flawless scheme. He could read her silly little thoughts, thinking that she had him painted into a rosy red corner. Not yet! She looked a bit shocked as he eased out in a deep tone, "Fine, I’ll do it. The sun is taking in its first breath of the day. Soon, it will be pulsating over the horizon. I haven’t much time." When she did not respond, he probed, "Where is this man you wish to be rid of?" "In the car, two blocks over. Kill him, then I’ll give you back your precious wallet," she tossed out swiftly, suddenly aware of the thin strip of time she had to work with. Vincent nodded, then vanished leaving Kregg resting on the pavement, probably entertaining dreams of an unrequited cherry pie. He located the car quite easily, and opened the door. Inside the passenger’s seat rested a nice looking man, his face shadowed with a beard. Obviously, the vixen had drugged him. Poor devil, he couldn’t have much of a life. Two minutes later, he rejoined the vixen. She was anxiously pacing the pavement and when she saw Vincent, she bolted towards him. "Is it done? Did you do it?" she demanded in a high, excited voice. "My wallet," he commanded, holding out his hand. She winced, contemplating keeping the possession but she was washed with a wave of sanity and regrettably handed it over. Vincent checked for the photo, then effortlessly scraped Kregg from the pavement and took flight. He would barely make his liar before sunrise. Amid his departure, he detected the vixen’s harsh scream. Obviously, she had just met the gift that he had left her; a husband that was now more bite than bark. The Widow Maker
The city lay shrouded in the distance, looming like a fragile virgin clothed in white. The year was 2785.