The hardest part about dying, is staying dead.
The young hunter standing in front of me was looking to change that. The silence around us was deafening—the first indication that something was off. Nights in my city were never entirely quiet, unless power was being wielded.
A soft breeze carried over the scent of fear and excitement. His heart was beating erratically, and his shallow breathing guaranteed his reaction time would be compromised.
He wore a long, black duster a few sizes too large, and held a gun he clearly didn’t know how to use. He was dressed like a Night Warden, but lacked the menace Wardens possessed.
The recognition in his eyes was clear. He knew who I was—they probably showed him a few pictures to make sure he could recognize me. He certainly looked the part, but the slight waver in his hand, the uneasy stance, and the shifting gaze told me all I needed to know.
He was bait…and would soon be dead.
It was probably early in his career as a hunter. The clothes were still too new, lacking the smell of blood, sweat, and fear—the telltale scents of years on the hunt. I was facing a novice—a novice with a dangerous weapon.
“By the blood,” I muttered under my breath. “The night just started.”
“And it’s going to end…for you.”
“Cocky or foolish?” I said, shaking my head. “Did you plan on dying tonight?”
“I plan on getting rich tonight. Once I bring your body to the Council, that is.”
“Suicidally foolish, then.”
The weapon he held contained LIT rounds, which focused my attention immediately. Light Irradiated Tungsten carbide rounds—vampire killers—were deadly, and banned by the Dark Council. That only meant they were hard to get. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Council had provided him with the weapon and the rounds I now faced.
It was good to know they still feared me.
I had let my guard down for only a few moments—that was all it took to remind me that death was ever present. I was beginning to wonder who was the novice here; I was getting sloppy in my old age. Anger threatened to surge, but I quickly strangled it into submission. Unleashing my rage would only bring death and destruction.
I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as I shifted slightly to the side.
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice cracking as he tracked me with the weapon. “Don’t…you…move.”
“You don’t want to do this,” I said, keeping my voice even and standing still to prevent startling him further. “I know about the bounty—trust me, it’s not worth losing your life over.”
“Losing my life?” he scoffed. “I’m the one holding the gun.”
When it was apparent I had no intention of returning to the Dark Council, they promptly let me know how much they disagreed with my choice, by placing a substantial bounty on me. Ten million if captured alive, and double that amount if dead, as in ‘head removed from body’ dead. It meant I would be dealing with every would-be assassin out to make a name for themselves. Someone on the Council wanted me distracted.
“You’re right,” I said, raising my hands slowly. “Don’t be foolish. The Council is using you. You’re expendable to them.”
I kept my focus on him, but let my senses expand around me. He was alone—for now. Dark Council Enforcers were tracking him and would be joining us soon. They would cut him down in an effort to get to me. He may have been a clueless pawn, but he didn’t deserve to die for meeting me.
“Michiko Nakatomi,” he said, with a barely discernible tremble in his voice. “By order of the Night Wardens, I, Timothy Brown, hereby declare your life terminated.”
Well, that explained the duster.
“You’re a Night Warden?” I asked, incredulous. “They’ve really lowered the bar. Are you a mage?”
I already knew he wasn’t. The only magic he possessed was the astounding ability to be oblivious to his impending death standing in front of him.
“They told me I didn’t need to be,” he assured me. “I’m part of the new generation of Night Wardens.”
“Whoever told you that, was mistaken,” I said, letting some of the anger seep into my voice. “You’re bait.”
“Bait?” Timothy jeered. “I found you, didn’t I? I’m the new generation.”
A new scent wafted over to where we stood. Old, dangerous, and deadly.
“The old generation may disagree with you.”
“What old generation?” Timothy asked. “All of the Night Wardens are gone.”
“Not all of them,” I said into the night. “Do you want to have a word, or should I end him?”
“Who are you talking to?” Timothy asked, looking around. “There’s no one here but us.”
“I’ll handle it,” a voice said from the darkness. “I’d like to know who is recruiting Night Wardens. I can’t get information if you rip his heart from his chest.”
“Rip my what—?”
“A valid point,” I said with a nod. “He’s all yours.”
A figure emerged behind the now visibly frightened Timothy.
It was Grey Stryder—the last Night Warden.
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