And
then, being mindful not to spill my tea, I eased into the tartan embrace of
Endolyn Muirden’s least offensive armchair, and settled back to watch him die. You would think I’d be disgusted about
watching another human being leave the mortal coil, right?
Wrong.
I have been trying to kill the man for over
a century and it seems nothing kills him.
Sure I’ve died a few times, and have been brought back by the Elders of
my race and have been given this job to track him down and kill him.
But he never looks the same, is never in the
same business, wears the same clothes or has the same hair style… but he does
have one or two distinct features about him:
Endolyn has a signet ring of a large ruby which he wears on his right
hand and a tattoo of a fire-drake on his right shoulder.
Being a female Bounty Hunter, it’s not hard
to get a man’s clothes off if I need to find out about the fire-drake, but the
signet is hard to come across, as at times, he doesn’t wear it just to throw me
off. And to make sure he doesn’t know it’s
me following him around, I never wear the same outfit twice – only when I’m
going to kill him; so he remembers who I am.
Sound cold and calculating.
But that’s how I do it, not how I was
taught.
Maybe you’re wondering why he must die. Well, he was wanted by a European Emperor for
jilting his daughter on her wedding day – and it was a massive occasion; even I
was invited at the time because of my Clan’s importance. On the day, that particular Emperor himself
hired me personally to take care of Endolyn; to make sure he suffered a
gruesome death. He paid me half of a
handsome reward and I was promised the other half once this bastard was
dead. But somehow he won’t stay dead!
So, the Elders of my Clan have kept on
bringing me back to finish the job so it can be finished and I can be paid in
full; and also my soul can rest in peace properly. And this time, it’s beginning to look like a
pretty sweet deal… he’s dying, melting, finding it hard to breath right in
front of me and I’m sitting here watching him to make sure he’s gone.
However, I’m staying here to make sure he’s
definitely dead. I’m not moving until
this horrendous man’s soul – if he has one – is wiped from this planet and from
this dimension. But how I did this is
something I couldn’t do alone unfortunately as he knew if I did anything that
was remotely to do with trying to killing him, he'd do away with me; and I'd be back at square one and would have lost him. I think we’ve been around each other long
enough to know how each other thinks.
And strangely enough, he’s been trying to
kill me – but I’ve been just out of his reach each time; how ironic is
that? Things become more ironic as we go
along too. The person he hired to kill
me, is the same person I hired to help kill him… so instead of picking one or
the other, this person did a half-arsed job on me, and did a proper job helping
me kill Endolyn. Why? Well, the man I hired is a direct descendent
from the European Emperor whose daughter Endolyn jilted all over a century ago…
funny how this guy’s past has only just now begun catching up with him.
“Listen, we don’t have to do anything, just
watch him fall apart.” The guy said as he showed me a syringe filled with dark,
glittering liquid.
“What is that?” I remember asking.
“Well, it was daytime when the wedding was
on, and he didn’t show, right?” he placed it on the table as I watched his
face, “And each time we saw him and there were accounts of his presence being
anywhere, it was at night, just before dawn or just after sunset.”
“He’s a vamp.” I said.
He held it up again, “Dead man’s blood and
enough silver to drop a couple of werewolves.”
“I watch him drool for a bit, watch him melt
and then, chop off his head.” I unsheathed my dirk from its calf scabbard.
He grinned, “Wish you weren’t immortal. You’re
so hot when you talk that way.”
I smiled as he packed his shit and left me
with the arrangements.
This brings us to now… where I’m as
comfortable as I’m gonna get in this weird chair in Endolyn’s house. He’s been gagging, drooling and sizzling in
his own shit for a while now, and I’m sick of his smell – and I mean almost
physically sick of it. Putting down the
cup of tea, I spill a little in the saucer to hear it sizzle and a hole the
size of my little fingernail has eaten through the porcelain.
Smiling, I stand up, unsheathing my dirk as
I do and approach him, “Nice try, Endolyn.
But, I win.” I raise my arm up high and my blade strikes sure and
true. His head hits the floor, “I win.”
I look down at his corpse and realise my job is done – in more ways than one.
