Rebirth of the Seer by Peter W. Dawes Page B

us, my mind spinning in some effort to digest the notch I had ascended on the supernatural food chain. Quickly, however, I determined it would take more than a few moments of meditation for me to do so. “You must rest,” I said at last. “I will keep guard and tend to your wounds before we progress onward. Perhaps Julian shall wander into the wrong part of town again and anger more of the local residents.”
    Monica snorted, looking at me with a grimace after producing the abrupt noise. “Gods, Flynn, don’t make me laugh. It hurts when I laugh.”
    I smirked. “My apologies.” Laying a hand atop Monica’s, I felt moved to pull it to my mouth and kiss the back in a gentlemanly fashion. A soft smile tugged at her lips as I lowered it. “Thank you for protecting the soul of this rascal,” I said. “Even when he seems bent on mocking your motives.”
    “D on’t mention it.” A blush rose on her cheeks briefly before lightening back to her sickly pallor. Her eyes shut and our grip disengaged. “And thank you, once again, for your protection.”
    “You are quite welcome. Get better… for both of our sakes.”
    Standing, I left the room without adding any additional thoughts, pausing only to shut her door before I entered the living room. Mental fatigue nipped hungrily at my heels, demanding I rest before attempting to form some sort of plan for our escape. I ignored it for a little while longer, content, instead, to lie on the couch and watch the front door. My mind wandered down a myriad of paths, some dark, and others daunting, and at the end of it all, I knew one thing for certain. My footing was much more precarious. The descent seemed that much steeper should I lose my way. A mountain of concerns weighed down my shoulders, but even those could not stop the eventual close of my eyes.
    Sleep became a welcomed thing, a cherished commodity I was apt to indulge for one more day . It quieted the notions running through my mind.
    And heaven only knew how much I needed to seek respite from.

Chapter Seven
     
    I had barely assumed the duty of being Sabrina’s assassin when fate , or her conspirator serendipity , took an interest in me. Fresh from my first assignment, with the high of accomplishment sluggishly blee ding out of my veins , I mused at how the details had unfolded over a glass of Scotch and found one particular element of my work lacking. Rather than simply congratulating myself over a job well done, I could not help but to observe my target was now dust with no stories left to tell about who did him in and how.
    Such was my repose , when a fetching young lady with strawberry blonde hair caught my eye.
    She spied me sitting at the back of the club just as I polished off my drink and moved to light a cigarette. A strange creature for a mortal – one of the Gothic varieties – she called my attention away from perusing the patrons for my first human victim of the night as she stood from a stool poised by the bar . A low cut, black dress hugged her body and made her modest cleavage the focal point of her attire. She wore blood red lipstick with black eye shadow , and while my gaze strayed obediently to her chest, I could not help but linger on the veins visible on her strong neck.
    I watched her stop beside my seat, stealing a quick glance at the space between me and the edge of my booth. “Excuse me,” she said, “But are you waiting for somebody?”
    I honored her words with a closed-mouth smile, something I had learned to do lest the points of my fangs give me away too soon. “I am currently alone, but not averse to company,” I said, intrigued by her presumption. Shifting in my seat, I provided her ample space to slide in beside me and pivoted to orient her more directly in my gaze . “I suppose I should be asking you if you are alone as well?”
    “I never come here with anyone,” she said with a shrug. “I prefer to seek out people who look interesting.”
    “And I suppose that means I