1.
There’s nothing boring about my line of work. I mean sure, you deal with life threatening situations every time you take on a job, there’s quite a high worker turnover and there’s always the problem of living for eternity while everyone around you either dies naturally or is slaughtered at the hands, or claws, of all number of creatures from the depths of the abyss.
Okay, so maybe it’s not the safest line of work, but it’s certainly not boring.
You see, beyond the bubble that humanity has encased itself in to make them feel safer there lives an entirely separate community. A community consisting of Vampires and Werewolves, of Shape shifters and Demons. A community consisting of all the monsters that parents tell their children do not live under their bed. This is the community I have found myself residing in, a community that mostly resides in The City, and it is through this community that I make my living.
The City is a hive for the Supernatural community. It’s huge, about the size of Ney York City, and is located in the middle of nowhere. Usually something like this would be a problem, but The City is hidden to everybody who hasn’t been blessed, or cursed, with the Eye. The Eye is something that all Supernatural creatures have, but that only a miniscule percentage of human beings have. For humans they are either born with the Eye, or they get the Eye by witnessing an event caused by the Supernatural. If you don’t have the Eye, then you can’t see the City, and through means that nobody quite understands, your drawn away from it as well.
My job title is flexible to say the least. To most I’m a mercenary. If the money’s right then I’ll take the job quite happily. From hunting Demons to delivering packages to rescuing damsels in distress (which doesn’t happen often enough) I’ve done it all, and I’ve done it well. I’ve made a name for myself throughout The City as one of the best, and certainly the most daring, hunter for hire.
So when a beautiful woman came up to me while I was in the middle of my first drink of the night and offered me a very large amount of money for what she first described as an easy job, I wasn’t going to send her away.
Not sending her away was most certainly a mistake.
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It hadn’t been a particularly busy month when I arrived at Club Constant, the hottest nightclub in The City. Work has been slow and eventually the endless amount of alcohol and meaningless trysts with beautiful women with lose morals can get boring (I’ve yet to get bored by it personally, but I’m sure it can happen) so I wasn’t expecting anything special when I left my apartment looking glorious as usual.
Having gained immortality, through an intake of divine blood, at the age of thirty I still have the appearance of a thirty year old hundreds of years later. I’ve got short black hair just long enough to provide a sense of neat roughness, red eyes that light up a room, a really shiny smile and a muscular body that isn’t freakishly ripped, topped off by my classic outfit of a tan trench coat, a white shirt and thin black tie to add that feeling of professionalism.
So as I mentioned, I was looking glorious.
“Hey man, good to see you made it.” I hear shouted across the lobby. Turning my head I see the familiar sight of my often hunting partner.
“Carter” I say, patting him on the shoulder as we walk into the main room of the club. “How are things? Did you help that young woman home yesterday?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Of course” he answers with a laugh and the look of satisfaction having revisited the memories of the night before. We stop at the bar, ordering the usual – several shots of tequila and a glass of Scotch – and walk towards our usual table towards the back of the club.
Carter Griffin is a long time friend of mine, going back just over ten years when I first met him on a hunt in California involving several missing humans and a very angry Werewolf. He’s one of the few people who have known me for more than ten years without being killed in the process, an achievement that he should probably be commended for. We’ve done a lot of jobs together in the past, and saved each other’s lives on more than one occasion. Carter’s never managed to get out of the grunge phase of his youth and at the age of thirty four still wears bright colours and hair styled in bright green spikes. Despite this, he still manages to attract numerous women. Wonders never cease.
“A lot of people tonight,” Carter states with a grin, “see anyone you like?”
I glance around the room, taking in the bright flashing lights of red and green, the people dancing in brightly coloured clothes which make me seem out of place, especially next to Carter’s fluorescent suit. The music’s so loud I can feel the beats in my chest, as if my heart itself is dancing along with everybody else. As we make our way through the crowds of people the smell of sweat finds its way into my nose. Just another night in Club Constant.
Monique, my other long term hunting partner, is already sitting at our usual table with a glass of red wine in her hand as we finally pushed our way through the crowd. I’ve known Monique for the better part of forty years, and I have no idea of her actual age, but she still has the appearance of a twenty eight year old thanks to the Vampire blood running through her veins. Her status as a Vampire means that her own blood doesn’t pump around her body anymore, hence Vampire’s cravings for fresh blood. The lack of pumping blood also results in a very pale complexion, which Monique turns to her advantage with bright red lips, long black hair and dark eyeliner. Her curvaceous body also means people rarely pay too much attention to her skin tone. Plus, around here where everybody knows of the Supernatural, it doesn’t really matter what you look like.
“Evening boys, any news on the Underground?” she asks as we take out seats, her voice soft. Monique is generally very calm, so I’ve become accustomed to her soft sultry tone.
The Underground is the term that hunters use for the grimier areas of the city that contain the unsociable, and criminal, portion of the Demonic community. Usually this is the best place to go when looking for information, because everyone is willing to talk for a price down there however lately things have been quiet. I’ve got some reliable sources of information in the Underground, but I’ve heard nothing in weeks.
“Nothing” I tell her before downing the first shot of the evening. “Everything’s been dead recently. Either nothing is happening, or nobody is willing to talk about it.”
“Oh please. If there was anything big going on we would have heard something by now.” Carter states. Usually I’d agree with him, but things have been extremely quiet recently, and I can’t rid myself of the feeling that something big is brewing. I’ve been involved in big battles before, but at least then I was aware that something was happening.
“Well we can’t do anything unless there’s actually something worth doing.” Monique states calmly, before looking directly at me. “And don’t go looking for trouble again Leon. The last time you went looking for a job because you were bored we nearly got killed by a damn Werewolf.”
“It’s not like I’ve forgotten” I tell her with a laugh. “That wolf nearly took my head off.”
We do another round of shots before I’m interrupted by Carter, pointing at a sleek middle aged blonde woman clearly making her way to our table.
“Either of you seen her before?” Monique asks us. I’ve lived a long life, and I can’t exactly remember every woman I’ve ever met, but something tells me I would recognise this one. Long blonde hair flowing down to her shoulders, a pale complexion very similar to Monique’s, a sleek body adorned by a striking pinstripe suit. Yeah, I’d definitely remember her.
“I'm afraid to say I've never set eyes on her before” I answer.
“Nothing to do with me sadly.” Carter follows.
Within seconds the woman has made her way to our table. I notice Carter smartening up his clothes in anticipation and can’t help but let out a small laugh, which in turn gets me a deathly glare from Carter.
“Excuse me” the blonde woman states as she reaches our table. I look her over, taking in every detail, making sure there isn’t the slightest chance that I’m about to be attacked (it’s what happens fifty percent of the time I meet new people). She’s tall, about 6’5, and dressed smartly, with a briefcase held in her one hand. She can only be in her early thirties, but I’m smarter than to ask a grown woman her age. “Are one of you Leon Cortez?
Both Carter and Monique turn their heads to me. There’s an undeniable look of confusion on my face, but that quickly settles in favour of interest. I smile at her, which gets absolutely no reaction.
“That’d be me.” I answer, maybe a little too quickly, getting to my feet and offering my hand. “Leon Cortez, at your service.”
She takes my hand and shakes it firmly. I get the feeling that she could crush my hand if she wanted, which sends a chill down my spine. As my hand connects with her I get chills all over my body. Her skin is deathly cold, and it feels like whatever is causing her coldness is attempting to leak into my skin on contact. I break the handshake quickly, not wanting to take any chances. You never know what’s going on in The City, all manner of people and creatures make their residence here.
“May I join you?” she asks politely, gesturing toward the spare seat at the table. Why do we always have a fourth seat at the table when it’s only ever the three of us that attend these, for lack of a better word, business drinks?
I glance at Carter and Monique, hoping for something in their expressions to let me know what they think of the newcomer. Carter’s jaw has half dropped, and from the way he’s staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights tells me that he may want her to sit down. Monique on the other is glaring a whole straight through my head, her eyes almost screaming “No!”
“Sure.” I answer, before looking over to Monique with a puppy dog grin. If looks could kill then Monique would have glared me to death at this very moment. Sadly her hands are quite capable of maiming me and I’m fairly certain she’d be willing to go through with it.
“Thank you,” she states before placing the briefcase on the table in front of her. She places her hands on top of it, palms down, almost as if she is protecting it for some unknown reason. “My name is Rebecca Draysling, and I’d like to offer a job to you.”
“Straight to the point. I like it.” Carter says with a laugh. She doesn’t show any emotion to his comment; although I get the vague feeling she feels a small bit of contempt towards us all, although I haven’t a clue why. Carter drops his head slightly, looking dejected when she doesn’t find his joke funny. I try to get things back on track.
“And what kind of job couldn’t wait until office hours?” I ask her, trying my best to sound professional. Not the easiest thing to do when you’ve got a glass of Scotch in your hand.
“First, I need to ask you something.” She pauses, unsure about whether to ask me or not.
“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite.”
Well, Monique does, but that’s a completely different problem.
She takes a deep inhale of breath before finally asking me the question in a cold emotionless tone.
“Are you an immortal, like those cretins in the Underground said?”
“Oh.” is the only word I can spit out.