Maintaining the Treaty

Sleep was a good thing. Even after all these years, I still enjoyed a good nap from time to time. Being an immortal asshat didn’t preclude that. Unfortunately, sleep was rarely for as long as I’d like, nor was it ever particularly restful. Not anymore, in any case. My phone beeped loudly at me in the middle of the day. Groaning, I lifted myself from bed and looked at it. Marcy. Shaking my head awake, I tried to think. Why would Marcy be calling here, at this hour? How the fuck did she even get this number? I certainly wasn’t dumb enough to give it to her, was I? I tried to remember the previous night, but it was all a blur. A Marcy-less blur, though, meaning this call most certainly wasn’t my fault. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I picked up the phone. “Pemberton Residence.”

Marcy’s voice was harsh and angry. “Get your people in line, Hugh,” she yelled over the phone.

I sighed. “Marcy. Lovely to hear your voice, as always. Now, what exactly are you talking about?”

There was a slight pause. “When one of you beasties went and ate my best friend’s left hand’s apprentice last night, you’re going too far. The treaty’s weak enough as is.”

I thought a moment. That wasn’t possible, my people had all been at the banquet with me, and they’d had plenty of food to go around. Unless one of them was a complete idiot, which none were, they weren’t behind this. “Are you sure it wasn’t one of the animals?” I asked. That would make sense, because the animals were all complete idiots, enslaved only to hunger.

Marcy’s glare could be felt over the phone. “I’m not an idiot, Hugh. He was desiccated and his liver was perfectly intact.”

Shit. That sounded like his people. “Well, my people were all accounted for last night,” I insisted, hoping beyond hope that I was wrong.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You beasties can’t be ‘accounted for,’ you’re monsters,” Marcy pushed right back. She, too, was worried about what I meant. Because, if it wasn’t one of mine, and it was my kind, the treaty might truly be in danger.

I shook my head. “I fear we have a feral in our midst.”

“Seems pretty good at cleaning up after itself for a feral,” Marcy countered.

A feral wandering around would be bad enough. She was suggesting something far worse for everyone in the city. “Let me rephrase that,” I said, “We better hope there is a fucking feral wandering around, because the other option could be very problematic.”

“How big of a problem for the rest of us?” she asked, her worry turning to fear. She didn’t know the politics of my kind, but she knew that I, at least, had a firm grip over my people, and didn’t want to cause problems for the other things that went bump in the night.

“The nearest rival dumb enough to take me on would be Alexandra Picot,” I said, expecting a response.

“Who?” Marcy replied. That was not the response I was expecting. I kept forgetting how young Marcy was. She’d only been in charge of the District Coven for fifty years.

Chuckling to myself, I replied, “Witches. Such short memories.” Then, clearing my throat, I continued. “Did your master ever teach you about the Night Purges, the ones that directly led to the First Treaty of the Night here in the District?”

“You mean back during the Civil War? Yeah, why?”

I sighed. “That was the last time Alexandra tried to take over the District.”

“Fuck.” Marcy’s response was instinctual, and not entirely directed towards me. “Then you better clean up your feral problem,” she said after collecting herself.

“And if it’s the other thing and isn’t resolved quickly, can we count on your support?” My question was not from a place of veiled threats or even expectation. It was genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know,” she replied, hearing the lack of expectation in my voice. She understood as much as I that there was more to the hostilities between us than a simple common enemy could easily take care of.

“I’ll keep you informed,” I said to her.

“If it is Alexandra,” she added, “Do tell Mr. Hawke as well. He might be more inclined to help you.”

I chuckled. “If I need a hammer, I’ll ask the animals for help. Hopefully, though, I will not be needing any help,” I finished the conversation, “Love you. Die in a horrible fire.”

“Love you too, asshat,” she said back to me, “I’d say the same, but you’re already dead.”

And with that, she hung up. I looked at the wall. Well, fuck, I thought to myself. I really didn’t want to deal with Alexandra again. Maybe it was just a well practiced feral. That would be nice. But if it was Alexandra, or one of Alexandra’s brood, I knew what to look for on the body. The ME wouldn’t find it interesting in the slightest and might not even notice it. See, if it was a feral, it would have pounced on the witch, there might be signs of struggle. But Alexandra tended towards more subtle means. There wouldn’t be any signs of struggle whatsoever. And since it was desiccated, there also wouldn’t be any trace of the heavy sedative she’d have used to subdue the witch. What there would be, however, was at least one fracture in the pelvis, and no bone marrow within. Alexandra and her brood loved using marrow to spice up their meals. They wouldn’t give up any chance to acquire some. Especially since they didn’t know about the treaty. If it was them, they’d attacked the witch expecting a witchy response, and me to remain ignorant of the attack. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Praying that I was wrong and overthinking it, I called the coroner.

“Yo,” Mark picked up the phone, also half asleep, “What up?” Unlike me, he didn’t have the excuse of being nocturnal. He was just lazy.

“Mark,” I said, getting straight to business, “It’s me. You got a weird one last night, right?”

Mark laughed. “Weirder than even you’ve taught me to expect. No sign of struggle, no blood inside. What of it?”

I took a deep breath. “Did you check the bones?” I asked.

Mark was silent a moment, then answered, “Yeah. How’d you know something was up with the bones?” Then, in a hushed whisper, he asked, “This wasn’t you, was it?”

“No, Mark,” I said, “It wasn’t me. What was wrong with the bones?”

Mark took a deep breath himself. “Well, the pelvis and sternum have holes bored into them.”

I nodded. “Let me guess, they both are lacking in the marrow department.”

“Exactly,” Mark said, “Weird, right?”

I sighed. “Less weird, more bad. Really, really bad.”

“Alright. Have fun dealing with this, H.” Mark hung up the phone. He knew me well enough by now that he’d get payed without asking, and that I wasn’t too fond of talking shop with mortals, especially not over the phone.

With that all but confirming that this was Alexandra’s doing, I buzzed downstairs. Alexandra, like most of our kind, was a creature of habit. I knew exactly where she’d be if she were moving back into town. My head of security, some mortal named Rob or Ralph or Ron, replied, “Yes, boss? You’re not usually awake at this hour.”

I groaned. “Nor would I like to be. But events have conspired to force my hand. Is the car ready?”

“Yessir.” His voice was cool, collected. He was probably aware of what I was, what I did. If nothing else, he probably thought I was an albino mob boss of some kind, given my aversion to the sun and my less pleasant interactions with my own brood. But we followed the practice of plausible deniability. I never told him anything, and he never asked about anything.

“I’ll be down in a moment,” I said, “Tell no one of this trip.”

“Of course, boss.” He was a good employee. I’d miss him after he retired in twenty or so years. Best employee since that Olly kid back in 1782 or 92.

I walked slowly over to my closet and picked out my best suit for meeting with Alexandra again. Intimidating, but not aggressive. Noticeable, but not too flashy. I settled on Maroon with a black shirt. Seemed appropriate, sitting on the border of darkness and evil. After getting dressed, I headed into the garage. My limo was parked in front of the elevator door, waiting for me. Ron was waiting in the driver’s seat. I’m 70% confident it’s Ron. I got into the back seat and knocked on the dividing pane. It rolled down. “What’ll it be, boss?” Ron asked.

I smiled and silently handed him a slip of paper with an address in Alexandria written on it. It was across from the old slave auction house, and Alexandra used to live there. Creatures of habit are easy to predict. “Get me there within the hour,” I said, “The sooner, the better.”

“Draw no attention, though, I presume?” Ron asked.

I smiled. Such a useful employee, being able to understand my desires so well. “Of course. That is more important than speed, as always.”

Ron nodded, then rolled up the tinted divider. The front was not tinted, only the rear, and he knew better than allow any sunlight to creep back into my cabin. The car began to move, the low hum of the engine and the occasional bump in the road the only thing disturbing the otherwise stillness in the cab. Meanwhile, I needed my sunsuit for the short walk between the car and the building. Pressing the button under the drinks tray, a hidden shelf slid into view. It had what was, for all intents and purposes, a space suit hidden within. Over my actual suit, I pulled on the large and airtight outfit, sealing it along the front. Then, the mask, a hooded gasmask that had no glass, no holes, no way to see anything. Sight didn’t matter all that much when you could hear and smell as well as my kind can in sensory deprived states, and it was more important to avoid any light getting in than it was to allow myself to see. I looked like the weirdest person in the universe, playing the villain in some space-based B movie, but it worked as a way to walk in the sunlight, as long as it wasn’t too far, and I didn’t need to breathe much.

The car came to a stop. “We’re here, boss,” Ron said.

I listened to the outside of the limo. We were parked at the townhouse adjacent to the address. The door to that one was four yards from me. Go in there, then I could remove the getup, break through the wall, and kill her. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the car. No one tried to stop me as I walked up to the house and opened the door. The lock cracked open rather easily. I’d need to pay the owner for that. Closing it behind me, I went to a room against the correct wall that couldn’t have exterior windows. There, I stepped out from my wonderful outfit. And once again could see my surroundings.

There was a five-year-old child there. I stared him in the eyes and slowly said, “Nothing will happen to you, as long as you stay quiet and hide.”

The kid nodded, smiled, and ran for the hallway. I took my sunsuit and shoved it into the duffel bag attached to it. Walking up to the wall, I pressed my ear against it. I could hear no one on the other side. Slowly, to keep quiet, I used my knife to cut through the wall and drywall, into the adjacent house. Five minutes later, and without a sound, I was inside. Alexandra would be in the attic. She loved it up there. There were four other vampires sleeping in various locations around the house, and three mortals patrolling, under their influence. But I was good at not being heard or seen. I slid up the stairs and then the ladder, into the pitch-black attic. I was ready to kill her unceremoniously in her sleep for invading my city.

Sitting there, very much awake, was the smiling face of Alexandra. “Been a while, Hugh,” she said, calmly, “Though I must say, I was not expecting you so soon.”

I could hear her brood still asleep below. She was too confident in herself to call on them for help. I smiled back at her. “What would our interactions be without you underestimating me?”

She chuckled, “Less contentious, probably.” Then, shaking her head, she added, “Now then, I am here, as the elder, to lay claim to this as my own.”

I shook my head. “I deny this claim, as the holder of the territory.”

She leaned forward, towards me. “What hope do you have of defeating me? Last time it took your own master’s life to stop me.”

I shrugged. She was brilliant and powerful. Against any other vampire, she’d undoubtedly be victorious. After all, we were mostly creatures of habit, and most had some sense of honor about them. But I was a scientist, not a warrior. I never gave a rat’s ass about honor. I pointed a finger at her. “Leave now, and I’ll forget you were ever here?”

“Are you threatening me with a finger?” she asked.

I smiled, and a small, silenced pistol popped out from my suit’s sleeve.

“Are you threatening me with a gun?” she asked again, now laughing. “Go ahead, shoot me.”

“Last chance,” I said, calmly.

She, still laughing, replied, “I think you should just try it, kid.” Her laughter twisted into something wicked. A snarl crossed onto her face. “Come on, shoot me!”

I shrugged. “Who said anything about shooting you?” I asked, then pulled the trigger. The blackened glass pane behind her shattered, and the sun streamed in. I scampered to the opposite side of the attic as she slowly began to boil in the light. Her screams echoed through the house. The rest of her brood were awake now, but the sun prevented them from climbing the ladder to help their master. I, putting on my sunsuit, stood atop the ladder and addressed the seven individuals standing around its base. “Your master is dead. If you are still in this city after tonight, you will be to. This is your only warning.” And with that, I hopped out through the open window, and walked over to the limo.

Entering my cab, I knocked on the divider. “Right away, sir,” I heard Rob say. And I pulled off my strange outfit as he pulled away. I decided it would be best to keep the spectre of Alexandra in the ether, to keep the peace. I’d say it was a feral, and I’d killed it. She’d take my word for it, because she’d want me to be right. I’d also have to make my brood stay quiet for the next few weeks, just to be sure. Taking a deep breath, I decided that after my call to Marcy and my message to my people, I’d sleep through the next few days and nights. Maybe taking a break in the middle of my nap to kill whoever gave the witch my number. Chuckling, I closed my eyes as the limo drove back into the city proper.

#fantasy #fiction #InTheKNight #story #nsfw #urbanfantasy