Villanelle and the vampire

​The man let out a piercing shriek of agony as I drove the knife into his eye. ​I watched him crawl across the floor, desperately dragging himself toward the door. He wasn’t getting away. Under normal circumstances, I might have felt a twinge of pity, but then again, the man was a textbook pedophile. ​"What do you want?!" Carter Weston screamed, his voice cracking as I stepped closer. "I have a family! I have a daughter!" ​"I bet you touch her too," I muttered under my breath. ​Through my earpiece, I could hear Charlie laughing softly. I hopped up onto Carter’s mahogany desk, crossing my legs as I watched him struggle. I wasn’t remotely worried about him reaching the exit; locking the office door was the very first thing I’d done when I walked in. ​He reached the handle, his ragged breath pouring out of him in loud, desperate gasps. He tried to turn the deadbolt, pulling his heavy frame upward, but to no avail. "Please... why are you doing this?" ​"Do you know a Vivian?" I asked, the words leaving my lips in a soft, calm whisper. ​"Viv... My ex-wife, Vivian?" he wheezed, blood streaming down his left cheek from his empty socket like a gruesome tear. ​"Yes, her." I stood up, picking up the second knife I’d set down when I first entered the room. "Do you happen to know why she wants you dead?" ​"Is this about Tabitha?! The judge sided with me! I didn't touch the little w***e!" he screamed in my face. ​He did. He’d done far more than touch the poor thing. Vivian Anaston had married Carter for his money, bringing her young daughter into the house from a previous marriage—the worst mistake she ever made. Tabitha was only seven when they married, and throughout the span of Vivian and Carter’s unfortunate union, Carter had molested her. She was thirteen when they finally divorced, and fourteen when the court ruled Carter not guilty. ​Vivian was furious. Furious enough to hire Olivia Paine—assassin extraordinaire, the one and only deliverer of justice (for the right price)—to put down her piece of s**t ex-husband. I wasn't technically the only assassin out there, though. I belonged to a whole family of them, and our services did not come cheap. Luckily for Viv, she hadn’t walked away entirely empty-handed after the divorce settlement. ​"Really? The judge said that? Gosh, I didn't know," I said, dripping with sarcasm as I inched closer. ​He looked utterly terrified, pressing his back so hard against the wall that if he pushed any harder, he’d be fused to the drywall. ​"Please, please..." he begged. ​But his fate was already sealed. Death had come knocking, and I was just the courier. ​I stood directly over him, raising the knife above my head, and plunged it straight into his heart. He shrieked as I stabbed him over and over, his screams growing softer and shallower until they faded into nothing. ​I stood there for a minute, watching the last remnants of light drain from his eyes. ​"Damn, that sounded gruesome," Charlie’s voice broke through the silence of the earpiece. "Did you seriously have to use a knife? The cleanup is gonna be brutal." ​"I’m sorry, am I the one who made a special request to use a blade? No. So I’d appreciate it if you shut up about it!" I snapped, ripping the earpiece out and tossing it onto the desk before sitting back down. ​Suddenly, I wanted a burger. A big, fat, greasy Whopper from Burger King. I was completely splattered in another man’s blood while his corpse grew cold three feet away from me, and all I could think about was fast food. It probably said a lot about my psychological state, but honestly, I considered myself a pretty decent person... except for the occasional murder. ​A small, rhythmic knock sounded at the door. Charlie pushed against it from the outside, but it didn't budge because of the dead weight on the floor. ​"Could you have killed him literally anywhere else, Ollie?" he asked, staring at me through the tiny crack of the door. ​"He was trying to run away!" I said defensively. ​"I heard the audio, you got mad." Charlie shoved his weight against the door, forcing Carter's heavy body aside. He squeezed his slight frame through the narrow opening and stared at me, crossing his arms. "You can't get emotional like that. When you get mad, you make a mess." ​He looked me up and down. Covered in crimson, I was the definition of a mess. ​"He hurt two little girls, Charlie!" I yelled, pointing aggressively at the corpse. "He purposefully married women with young daughters just to hurt them for years, and he got away with it!" ​"I know, but our job is just to kill him," Charlie said softly. He walked over, cupping my face with his gloved hand to gently wipe away a stray droplet of blood from my cheek. "Cleanly and quickly. This isn't like you, Ollie." ​"I'm sorry," I muttered, looking down. ​He pressed a brief, comforting kiss to the side of my mouth and pulled back. "Don't be sorry. Just do better next time." ​His words sent a sharp pang of guilt straight to my chest. Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced them back. ​"I’m gonna head home. I have an early class in the morning," I said, walking over to the coat rack where I'd hung my jacket. ​This place was Carter's second home, a private property he used specifically to harbor his mistress, Adoni. She was a tall, blonde, petite white woman with stunning blue eyes and an almost childlike figure. He paid a premium to have her every other week, so I had paid her double his rate to take her place tonight. He hadn't been thrilled when I walked into his study instead of her, but since I wasn’t exactly ugly, he figured he’d make do. He was seconds away from trying to touch me when I pulled out my blade and took his eye out. ​"Okay, Donna is outside to drop you off," Charlie said, leaning down to pluck the knife from Carter's chest with a gloved hand. "I’ll wipe down any prints you left and bring your weapons back to the apartment." ​"Thanks, Charlie. I really didn't have enough time for the cleanup tonight." I felt a wave of gratitude. I couldn't afford to skip my early morning university lecture, so I desperately needed him to handle the aftermath so I could get some sleep. ​"No problem," he replied, looking back up at me. "Donna will hand over your next assignment. She says the higher-ups have a bunch of them piling up." ​"Okay, thanks. Love you," I said, squeezing my way through the cracked door frame and leaving my sweet little brother to clean up a bloody murder scene. ​"Love you too!" ​I navigated my way through the lavish house, slipping out the front door and spotting Donna parked in an unmarked sedan. ​"Hi, cutie," I said, tossing the passenger door open and sliding into the front seat. ​"Don't 'hi cutie' me," Donna replied, shifting the car into drive. "You just executed a man. Act a little solemn, please." ​"I killed a pedophile. I'm not wasting an ounce of solemnity on that piece of shit." ​Donna reached over to the dashboard, grabbing a thick stack of manila folders, sorting through them until she pulled one out and tossed it into my lap. "Who is it?" ​"Don't know, but the upper tier wants him dead yesterday," she said as the car pulled out into the street. "One of the elders mentioned he’s been around for a very long time." ​I rolled my eyes. For generations, my family genuinely believed my great-grandmother was a bruja who had made covenants with dark entities, passing down supernatural gifts to our lineage. Granted, I was unnaturally strong—way stronger than any average man—but I also went to the gym. Sure, I mostly just did cardio, but cardio can build strength, right? ​My family also fiercely believed there were other supernatural 'entities' hiding out in the world. Sometimes they sent out hits on them, but I was convinced they were just executing random people who happened to have weird quirks. ​"What's the flavor of the month this time?" I asked, opening the folder. I skimmed through the background profile, letting out a dry chuckle when I reached the age section. It literally read: UNKNOWN. "Dumbasses." ​"They say he's a vampire," Donna whispered, before bursting into a fit of laughter. "A bunch of total hoo-ha if you ask me." ​I let out a loud bark of laughter myself. "Crazy old people," I agreed, referring to the elders running our family syndicate. "Vampires and werewolves. It's all just fanta—" ​My voice caught in my throat the second my eyes landed on the surveillance photograph slipped inside the envelope. "God damn." ​"That's exactly what I said when I saw that fine piece of ass," Donna said, taking a sharp left turn. ​She wasn't lying. The target was breathtaking. He had sleek, silver-white hair and striking red eyes—honestly, probably just a camera flash defect—with a jawline so sharp it could cut through obsidian. The man was built like a literal god. ​"God definitely has favorites," I murmured, staring at the printout. ​Donna pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment complex. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out into the cool night air, leaning against the open window. "Any way I can pass this one off to someone else?" ​"Nope. They want their absolute finest on it, and they specifically requested a woman. Word is our target is a bit of a slut." ​I groaned. "Ugh. Do I have to sleep with him or something? Not that I’m entirely complaining, looking at his face..." ​"No, just go home with him, get close, and get it over with," Donna said, waving me off as she began to pull away from the curb. "Good night, Olive." ​"Good night, Donny." ​I walked up to the building entrance, tucking the target file securely under my arm as I punched in the security code. I rode the elevator up to my floor, walked down the hall, and unlocked my apartment door. ​"Hi, Kevin," I called out as my cat trotted over to greet me. He took one sniff of my jeans, paused, and immediately turned his back on me. He absolutely loathed the scent of blood. "Sorry, bud. I'll take a shower right now," I said defeatedly. I loved that cat more than I loved myself. ​Before heading into the bathroom to scrub away the remnants of Carter Weston, I pulled the target photo out of the folder one last time. He truly was beautiful. I flipped to the second page of the briefing to check the name typed at the top. ​"Shavonne," I whispered, letting the smooth syllables roll off my tongue. "How pretty."