Rebirth of the Seer (42 page)

Flynn’s Lists for

Supremely Sanguine Sorts

“Favored Prey”

Brandee Crisp
Jessica Fortunato

Noree Cosper
Anya Harker
Kris Muncan

Kristina Danielsson

“More Than A Snack”

Steven Luna
Stephanie Fisher
Jodi McClure

Ke-Yana Drake

What a wild ride it has been.

A year ago, when we published Eyes of the Seer, we had hopes for its potential, but the reality has been even more astonishing. In just a year, the readers we have attracted have gone from the tens to the hundreds, and by now have tripped into the thousands. I say this not as a businessperson, but as a writer, who smiles every time I stop to consider someone in the United Kingdom, Germany, or even down the street with Flynn’s book on their Kindle.

The ideas have grown and expanded. The characters have given us enough material to keep us busy until the Grim Reaper comes calling. And along the way, J.R. Wesley and I have made friends with the most remarkable set of creators I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Regardless of whether or not the revolution will be televised, we are living it on the front lines, my friends.

The list of people to thank is too extensive, but you better know who you all are. Jessica, Noree, Kris, and Moe. Cris, Heather, Denise, and Ke-Yana. Steven and Steven, Justine, R-J, and Stephanie. Andy, Mike, Broudy, and every last one of the Twitter authors and readers I have interacted with, thank you for giving us your friendship and a spot in this great adventure we are all undertaking.

This book is dedicated to you. And especially to my ‘Victor’, who is my constant companion, my biggest fan, and my partner in crime. Two books down, countless more to come. Let the journey continue.

Come along with us if you have not yet. Crimson Melodies and Flynn himself have a lot in store and I am eager to see it come to life. While this is just one more step forward in my fictional counterpoint’s life, he has brought an entire ensemble with him, all with a story to tell. I cannot wait to show them all to you.

Peter Dawes

(Or, more accurately, the writer behind him.)

July 19, 2012

Fate
of the Seer

Book T
hree
of The Vampire Flynn

a
nd the short story

Hunting on Halloween

For as proficient of an assassin as I was, not every job went off without a hitch. Most did, to the point that recounting one would be recounting a dozen which had been orchestrated in a similar manner. Those who caught sight of me would shudder. Some would plead for their lives and others never laid eyes on me at all prior to meeting their end. I smiled with relish as each set of ashes descended to my feet, filling the spaces in-between with wanton affairs and homicide. After four years of sadism, though, one particular incident marked the beginning of my date with destiny.

He was an immortal elder named Demetrius who had weathered over a century before our paths converged. While I never knew what Demetrius’s intentions were in meeting with my immortal brother Robin, Sabrina saw it as anything but a simple social call. She was at the height of her paranoia and Demetrius was no mere elder. He hailed from Matthew’s coven, Sabrina’s sworn enemy.

She wore a scarlet-colored negligee when I walked into her private quarters, her legs crossed and eyes fixed straight ahead. Her fingers fiddled with the backs of her earrings, setting them onto the table in front of her. She sigh
ed dramatically as she fluffed out her hair
. “My darling Flynn,” she said, without looking at me, “I’ve kept you occupied this past year, haven’t you?”

With a smirk, I leaned against the doorway, folding my arms across my chest. The pressure from my hands pressed the hilts of my daggers into my torso. The sensation mingled with my response to give me a shiver of pleasure. “Idle hands do the devil’s work,” I said.

“So do busy ones in your case.” When our eyes finally met, the solemn expression on her face succumbed to a devious curl of her painted lips. It faded when she looked away again. “I thought Matthew had more sense than this. Hell, I thought your brother did, too, but he’s always had a soft spot for Matthew and it clouds his judgment sometimes. Thinks with his cock more than the Irish brain his mother gave him.”

I perked an eyebrow. “Is there a problem with Robin, Mistress?”

“Nothing that can’t be easily fixed.” As she rose from her chair, Sabrina plucked a silk robe from the back of her chair and threaded her arms through its sleeves. I followed her deeper into the room. “Master Pritchard sent his damn Greek mongrel, Demetrius, to speak to Robin. He won’t tell me why, but I’m no fool. I know he was sent to gather information on us.”

“I have had them running scared as of late.”

“And I know Matthew’s up to no good, but what else is new about the man?” As she tied her robe shut at the waist she turned to face me. The wicked glint returned to her eyes. “I want the bastard dead.”

My expression mirrored hers. “Which bastard? Matthew or Demetrius?”

“Cheeky.” She winked and began closing the distance between us. “Demetrius, for now. Matthew’s earning his ticket to death soon enough, but we can’t strike the head until we’re sure the rest of the body won’t rise up to drag us under with him.” Sabrina paused within inches of where I stood. My arms lowered to my sides as one of her hands settled onto my chest, sliding up the fine linen to my collar. “Elder or not, Demetrius is to be ended.”

My smile faded, a hint of arousal surfacing at her ministrations, but impacting the wall which was my sense of self-preservation. “You don’t believe striking an elder without further provocation will raise the ire of the other covens?”

She shrugged. “Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. It’ll certainly teach them a lesson.”

“The last elder I murdered was the one orchestrating an assassination attempt against us.”

“And I have little reason to believe Demetrius’s interest in us is anything less.” Her eyes lifted from her finger’s pursuit down the buttons of my shirt, meeting my gaze. “Are we going to wait for the enemies to come to our gates before we strike them down?”

A frown tugged at my mouth. “I suppose not.”

Sabrina pushed off my chest, using the gesture to pivot around and walk away. I did not know how to interpret the action, except to note I might have sounded less confident than she had come to expect. Slipping my hands in my pockets, I tilted my head to size her up. “This shall take a few nights’ time,” I said, “Finding the best moment to act.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than perfection,” she said, allowing the statement to hang in the air for a few seconds before lining me in her periphery. An eyebrow arched. “I don’t care how you do it, but I want a black rose crammed up Matthew Pritchard’s ass with the name Demetrius upon it, are we clear? No man will fancy himself so brazen that he can have his elders slither around my second. I will not tolerate it.”

“It shall be done as you say, dark mother.” With a nod, I departed her presence, setting myself upon the task when the moon rose the next evening.

Locating Demetrius was simple enough. I drifted around the shadows of Matthew’s coven, not seeing the master himself, but watching his elders come and go, always with groups of three or more accompanying them. The numbers brought a frown to my face; it would seem I was not the only one apt to take precautionary measures. One night passed without any chance to strike.

The following evening boasted much of the same. I returned to Sabrina’s coven, swearing beneath my breath and avoiding Robin lest my brother become wise to my current assignment. I retired that morning hoping for a better opportunity when the sun faded in the western sky. As luck would have it, my patience was to be rewarded.

After showering and dressing, I set out to the other side of town and tracked him to a tavern he and his coven brethren frequented. As they laughed and indulged their share of alcohol, I stole the chance to examine him, not permitting myself even a cigarette lest I give myself away. I saw a man who had been turned in his twenties with dark, wavy hair and brown eyes. A silk shirt hung from his stocky shoulders, yet the slim frame and shorter stature made him hardly look formidable. When they motioned for the back door, I slipped around the building and hid behind a stack of discarded boxes.

Serendipity smiled down upon me. Demetrius waved at his companions and kissed the cheek of a vampiress he referred to as Constance. When he turned to walk away from them, Constance frowned and called, “Be careful, brother.” She and the others permitted him to wander off, though, and I began pursuing, a wicked grin curling the corner of my mouth. He turned one corner and they, another. The fool had handed me his death on a silver platter.

I could have ended him right then and there, but I did not trust his companions were far away enough. Curiosity had also claimed the better of me. Demetrius maneuvered around the side streets, crossing a busy intersection and disappearing down an alley after a short stroll on the major roads. We entered a seedier portion of town and he stopped at a rundown, unmarked building with two humans guarding the front doors, both adorned in dark-colored attire. Demetrius nodded at the man just as I hid beside a neighboring building. I could not believe my eyes when I permitted myself another glimpse at the exchange.

While I was too far away to hear the conversation, Demetrius engaged the female and suddenly allowed his fangs to extend to full length. The man made no effort to intervene and the woman sank into Demetrius’s embrace, but neither appeared under the influence of any sort of thrall. Rather, the woman moaned with pleasure when he bit into her neck and after a few draughts, he pulled away and licked the wounds closed. I felt my stomach turn in revulsion. The act had been performed for the sake of her pleasure – a foreign concept to me at the time – and the mere notion offended me to the pit of my being.

I slunk back into the shadows. Climbing an adjacent fire escape, I took refuge on the building’s roof, believing I was about to rid the world of an emasculated, inferior immortal creature. Yes, a smile of relish traced across my face as I finally lit a cigarette. My eyes remained fixed on the building and a hand caressed the hilt of my katana. The moment he emerged, he would be mine.

An hour later, the doors swung open. Demetrius gave his final regards to his mortal company before heading out into the night. A final glance heavenward revealed sunrise was yet a few hours off, which suited me just fine. My grin turned cunning, my eyes finding my target again as he turned down the same alleyway he had used to arrive. The act spurred me on to the other side of my perch so I could track his movement.

When he paused to light a cigarette, he afforded me all the opportunity fate would be apt to grant before he entered Matthew’s neighborhood again. The building across from me was an empty warehouse. There was a partially-busted out window he was feet away from passing. I wasted no further time imagining the kill. My plan was set and ready to be executed.

I drew my sword from its hilt. Then, I quickly sprang from my position and descended to the street below.

My mark was ill-prepared for my sudden arrival and jumped away when I landed behind him. I grabbed his shirt with my free hand, though, and in one, swift motion threw him through the broken window. Demetrius landed inside the vacant building. I jumped after him, avoiding the shards of remaining glass while he scrambled to his feet, a mess of cuts and scratches all over his face and hands. When our eyes met, he stepped backward several paces and stopped. “Flynn,” he said, assuming a defensive posture, “And how have I come to be cursed with your presence tonight?”

“I think you know rather well how.” Both hands wrapped around the hilt of my sword. A sinister smirk punctuated my comment. Slowly, I stalked closer to him, glass crunching beneath my wing-tipped shoes. I paused several yards away. “What was your business with my brother?”

The confusion in his eyes turned to a look of resigned recognition. He scoffed. “Somebody like you would hardly understand my business with your brother.” As he drew a deep breath inward, he brush
ed
the debris from his clothing and pulled a shard from his arm. “So, Mistress Sabrina has her feathers in a bunch?”

“She takes any threat rather seriously, as I am certain you can imagine.”

“She fills your head fill of paranoid nonsense more like it.” Demetrius tossed the bloody glass to the ground. He allowed himself to stare at it for a few lingering seconds. “Tell me, was it your brother who informed her of our meeting?”

I huffed. “Hardly. At the same time, mortal-loving inferior, did you think Sabrina would accept your prying without question?”

Something in his demeanor shifted, a more defensive posture following what appeared to be an obvious weight falling from his shoulders. His gaze lifted to engage mine again. “Call me what you want, Flynn. Your brother loves you, but even you are trying that long-lived patience of his. I haven’t made my feelings about you secret, or your immortal mother for that matter. Sabrina has no respect for our ways and you’re the ignorant neophyte she sends to do her bidding.”

“Insulting my mistress will hardly get you anywhere, and belittling me only makes me want to toy with you, Demetrius. As it is, I have been moved nearly to retch at being forced to witness what I just saw.” I shook my head and sneered. “You, who take company with the humans and indulge their petty, Gothic games. Who fancies himself an elder, yet acts as though they are your equal. Tell me, is this endemic of all the vampires of your coven, and if so might I do them all the favor of ending their misery?”

“You nearly have.” He narrowed his eyes, stepping back another pace. “Your coven is a contemptible band of sadists with no respect for the natural order. None of you deserve the loyalty your brother has given you.”

“Spare me.” I advanced the step he
took
. “You pretend you know him when I have never seen him indulge the sort of nonsense you exhibit.”

“You call respecting what you once were nonsense?”

“What is there to respect about death and disease? About hypocrisy? Does scum like you find such traits admirable?”

Demetrius laughed. “Ignorant neophyte, just like I said.” He shook his head derisively. “You’ve been blinded to the hypocrisy of your own kind while just as duplicitous as the rest of us.”

I had suffered this two-faced immortal for long enough. My fangs descended, my irritation bubbling to the surface as I made a charge at him. The lapse in judgment cost me dearly, though. Demetrius leaped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the end of my blade, and rolled before coming to a stand again.

We turned to face each other. I swung my sword, but he dodged the blow and kicked me in the chest as retaliation. Sparks of pain exploded from the point of impact. They were eclipsed only by the punch which collided with my jaw, sending the sunglasses protecting my sensitive eyes from my face. I hollered in offense when the first beams of moonlight burned my retinas, quickly covering my face with one hand. “Son of a fucking bitch,” I swore. “You shall die slowly for that.”

His retreating footfalls clamored for the opposite end of the room. I quickly dashed into the shadows and opened my eyes only when the shroud of darkness granted me enough reprieve. Even then, it took rubbing my face and gritting my teeth past the lingering burning for me to steal a glance at him. He closed in on a back entrance, which inspired me to action. I had no time to waste. Pain or not, if I lost him to the rear door, I would lose him for good and I was not about to let my flawless record be blemished. Drawing a dagger, I threw it at his back with a deft flick of my wrist.