Utiseta

Chapter 7: Creature

He knew immediately the moment he was no longer alone. A slight shifting in the air around him announced the other's presence. With one flick of his wrist, Darragh downed the rest of his drink before immediately pouring himself another.

He was so not in the mood for this s**t tonight. Unfortunately, it didn't seem as though he had a choice. Which meant he sure as hell was going to need another drink, whether he was capable of getting drunk or not.

"What a beautiful home you have here, Darragh. Much nicer than the last."

The creature capriciously ran one clawed fingertip over the top of the wooden fireplace, grimacing theatrically at the dust he found there. "Although your cleaning staff, I see, remains as useless as ever. I am surprised you haven't drunk them dry by now."

Darragh downed his drink and refilled it.

"You seem tense. Maybe you should find a woman and - " The creature stopped abruptly, cutting himself off with a taunting laugh. "Oh, that's right. It's been a while for you, hasn't it?"

"You mean since you started killing everyone I decided to shag? When was that, again? Oh. Right. 1725." He downed the contents of the third glass; refilled it. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"I merely wanted to keep you on task."

Not bothering to hide his self-satisfied smile, the creature tossed a piece of paper onto the desk in front of Darragh. "I have some more debts I need you to collect."

And by 'debts,' of course, he was referring to those unfortunate individuals who had made a deal with him. Ever since Darragh had reneged on his own deal, he'd been forced to do odd jobs for the creature; collecting the souls of those who'd traded them away was just one of the lovely little things he did at the creature's behest. Darragh involuntarily cringed.

"At least they're willing to hold up their end of the bargain," the creature taunted, noticing Darragh's expression. "I have yet to come across another who lost his soul to vampirism instead of using it to pay me my due. Very clever, I'll grant you that."

"I have always been the inventive sort. But, if it makes you feel better, you have made my undead life an unending hellish cesspool." He raised the glass he'd just poured in silent salute before downing its contents.

The creature laughed. Bracing his large, protruding knuckles against the heavy wooden tabletop, he leaned forward. All at once, the joviality bled from his voice. "As amusing as that has been, I am growing wearing of our little game. As I told you many years ago: I only want what's owed me. As far as I'm concerned, you haven't paid off your debt yet. Not by a long shot."

"I will."

"That remains to be seen."

Snorting, Darragh absently picked up the knife and began twirling it in his fingertips. The action exposed his forearm, where the bloody letters were still visible.

The creature's eyebrows rose seconds before a shark-like grin stretched its lips wide. "Still partaking in that guilty pleasure, I see. Too bad she was the only one. Had there been more, I'm sure I would have enjoyed slaughtering them as well."

Darragh snarled and slammed his fist down on the desk, propelling himself into a standing position. Before he could react further, the creature gripped Darragh's jaw, his claws biting into Darragh's flesh hard enough to draw blood. His voice lowered into a guttural, inhuman growl. "You do want to get her back, don't you? Then I suggest you be a little more compliant."

The creature smiled and his voice returned to normal, the tone sickeningly sweet, like a too-ripe peach just before it starts to rot. "How about we make a deal?" He released Darragh, allowing the vampire to drop back into his seat.

Darragh laughed aloud, albeit without a trace of humour. "Now where have I heard that before?"

"I came across someone recently. Bring him to me...and that's it. Then you - and her - are free."

Darragh didn't for one second believe this to be true. When the creature was finally finished with him, the best he could hope for was death. What he would likely receive, however, would no doubt be much, much worse.

"What makes this one so special?" he asked, careful to hide his reservations about his would-be freedom.

"He's a Seer."

"Another one so soon? Must be your lucky century."

Darragh watched as the creature strolled over to the far side of the library, casually running his fingers along the spine of every book on the way. Darragh cringed, imagining maggots squirming down the creature's arm and onto the shelves of his prized literature collection. He imagined an infestation; in his mind's eye, this infestation grew until the whole library was swallowed up by the tiny, wriggling, infectious pests.

He looked up to find the creature regarding him with cold malevolence. It was hard to tell what mask of sentiment the creature would wear next. Joviality, aggression, humour, and malice each had their own seat at the table of his emotions. If Darragh misjudged his temperament from one minute to the next, he would usually pay for it in pain and suffering.

"Two weeks," the creature warned as he headed toward the door. "If the boy isn't lying bound and gagged on my doorstep in a fortnight, freeing Lily's soul will be the least of your worries."