To Kiss a Killer
Chapter 1: Dominick Von Kraige: The Vampire
I am twenty two years of age. At least that's what you'd consider if you got a good look at me. In fact, I am vampire, born five hundred and fifteen years ago in 1497, turned immortal twenty two years later in 1519. I am also the creation of one of the most feared Immortals to ever walk the earth. Demiesius Titus. He has walked for more than five thousand years, and is marked as an Elder for his age just as four other vampires elsewhere in the world.
Not long ago, he and the rest of the Elders created what is known as The Assassin Assassins Association, the triple A, or to be funny, the Ass for short. It is a company where vampires slay slayers trying to slayer vampires. Difficult? Not necessarily. Those foolish humans don't know anything about vampires let alone how to detect one who is not baring their fangs. Slayers catch us in action. We catch them without need to witness as they draw their stake.
With the garlic, holy water, godly toys, and silver, slayers come off as incompetent when facing us, but they do have one weapon that is just as deadly as the hours of daylight. The stake. And those bastards are getting better and better with their skills each passing century.
Despite my ranks in slaying slayers, I've only just begun to get a little edgy with the humans. They've adapted new territory, new tasks, and recently I discovered my name had been added to one of those damned task lists. It's not that I'm afraid, though. Even if I do happen to die, it'll be nice to know Demiesius will be there to rip them to shreds for taking my life. I'm his pride and joy, so they'd be as good as dead by the time my crumbling ash hit the floor.
Tossing a wad of crumpled paper in a nearby trash bin, I reached for another stray unused document on Demiesius' cluttered desk top, crushed it together, and steadied my attempts to become the ultimate champion in trashketball, missed yet again, and added to the many other clumps of paper distributed about the floor that was once clean... before I was called in.
Demiesius continued to ramble on the phone behind his desk, his chair turned the other way so that he wasn't facing me. I ran a tired hand thought my shoulder length, dark black hair, a bothersome stray flopping back into my face, and kicked my shoes up on the summit. Leaning back, I sighed deeply, bored out of my mind as usual.
I absolutely hated when he'd call me to his office while he was clearly in the middle of something else. It was always something I didn't want to hear, and right about now, I didn't want to hear him carry on a side conversation anymore than the next guy.
Testing my limits, I pushed myself further back in the chair, losing balance and crashed to the black carpeted floor below. "That hurt," I told myself as Demiesius rotated in his chair, speaking to his associate while giving me a look of disappointment. He was dressed in his usual fine suit, this coat a dull gray with white cuffs, and his dark hair was neatly combed back. To all, he was described as a beautiful man with naturally tan skin that not even death could make pale, stuck perfectly at the age of thirty five.
As I worked myself from the floor, I could hear him ending his phone call with, "I've got to go, Lortis. There's a little discipline needing to be carried out for my child." His little threat didn't bother in the least. He was feared by millions, but truly harmless, especially towards me.
Brushing my hair out of my face, I fixed my button down shirt, tried to tame the annoying curl in my face, and sat back down. "Dom," Demiesius breathed out, "What am I going to do with you?"
"I don't know," I shrugged, "But to start things off, you could hurry up with this meeting so I don't die of boredom in this office. I’m getting a little hungry, too."
“Alright, alright,” he motioned for me to settle down. “I’ve called you here tonight to deliver a bit of news I think you might find interesting. There’s a new family in town: a slayer family, and get this, one of them has been given an odd assignment. Guess who that person is?”
I leaned back further in the chair, studying Demiesius’ face. I said, “Since I’m already on the list, I’d have to say, I’m not sure.”
“What!?” I nearly imploded from the news. “Whoever that fucker is better think twice before touching you. I swear on the very blood in my veins, I will go on a killing spree until every last human is begging to tell me who it. Who is this mother-.”
Demiesius raised a silencing hand, a commanding gesture ordering me to bit my tongue so he may speak. “Calm yourself, my child,” he said in a voice too understanding for my liking. I didn’t comprehend his will to show such composure. “This human has a death wish if they ever put their hands on me, Dominick. I’m not weak. You of all should know that.”
“I know, I just… you don’t know who they are?”
“Just the simple fact that they reside in this city, a male, is all I’m aware of. When the European Region has him locked down, I’ll know.”
It bugged me how easy he was taking this news. When I was informed that my name had been added to a slayer’s task list, because I killed off a pack of imprudent humans pretending to be vampires, I lost every ounce of cool that sat under my pastel skin, but over time I stopped worrying.
Disturbed with the thought of someone coming after my immortal father, I tried helplessly to keep my attitude in check. At least until I was no longer in Demiesius’ presence. “However,” he smiled, “I have relieving news for you, my son. The American Regional Queen has informed me that she’s recently gotten a hold of a couple documents saved on the internet by none other than the slayer who’s been marked down for your name.” His grin widened to a chuckle, “And I’ve been given the liberty to add him to your inventory.”
Demiesius handed me a file that was sitting at the corner of his desk. “Is this a record of him?”
He nodded his reply.
I took the file in my hand and flipped it open, scanning through each article of text to get anything useful on this person. His name was Ciel Dalton, black hair that was as dark as mine, gray eyes, five foot three inches, talented in the art of slaying, belonged to the flair of the Dalton Family. I marveled over the name Dalton, something familiar striking me about it. I couldn’t recall how I knew the name, but I figured it wasn’t anything too important since it was a blur to me.
This kid was discerned as a professional slayer even though he was just eighteen years old. His killings rose what seemed to be weekly, killing at least two vampires in a week every month, has been killing ever since he was twelve. This kid was good, motivated strongly by his grandfather Julius Dalton… the man I now recalled was trained specially by the slayer’s legend Hamilton: the greatest vampire killer to grace the human race.
I was in for a challenge.
There’s no telling how good this kid was, but who was I to fear something easily broken? I’d have him dead in a second if we ever came into contact.
“I deem you are impressed to a certain extent?” Demiesius said as I looked over a photograph of the teenager, one taken from his online social account. “This boy, he’s got a lot to live up to. Though, I will see him executed.”
Setting the photo in my pocket, I crossed my arms. “Eh, he’ll be just as easy as the rest. Just because he’s got family history different from anyone else’s, doesn’t mean I can’t take him. He’s just another blood bag waiting to be slit open.”
Demiesius folded his hands together, taking in my load of cockiness. “Well, that’s good to hear, but understand that I want him dead… and I want him dead soon. I love you as if you were my born child. I will not have you returned to me as a pile of ash.”
I stood then, stretching for a moment before turning for the door. “You got it, Mister I-hand-out-demands-because-I’m-old. Since he lives close by, I’m sure he won’t be too hard to find.”
After wishing Demiesius a swell night, I proceeded to exit his office and headed for the elevator with the file handed to me in my jackets inside pocket.
Going down to the main floor of the covert vampire association building, I looked over the photograph of my slayer again, bolting his image to my mind so I wouldn’t need to pull out the picture again. His face would be imbedded in my memory, and my memory was good… most of the time.
When I made it to the main floor, I wished the lobby attendant a good evening and entered the night.
Walking the night before without knowing the face of my slayer was something that set in my mind, but now that I was certain of his features, I felt there was nothing to fear. However, I couldn’t help but wonder what the Slayer Public was doing targeting me in the first place. It was true they could possibly track me down since I am more publicly open than Demiesius, but his status should be hidden just like all the other Elders. Elders were supposed to dwell in secrecy.
Anyways, if I were to sentence someone in the Dalton family to death, I was practically granting myself with fame. The vampire who killed the great Hamilton is praised… if only we knew his name. It’s as if whoever did it wanted us to know Hamilton was dead, but restrained from making their face known. Still, I don’t know if I’d want my face known either. With the thought of just about every slayer in the world wanting you dead for killing their idol, it was fairly unnerving.
Sometimes silence was crucial.
After several minutes of making my way back to my apartment on Creaser Boulevard, I stumbled upon peculiar sounds coming from the far side of Jude’s Square. In the distance, once my sight had adjusted to the far off darkness, I could make out two fierce figures taking part in an intense moment of combat. Fists flew, and kicks struck. They were battling like two opponents in a Mortal Kombat tournament.
Obviously it was a melee to the death for them both. My mind was snagged by the incidence of one of the fighters being a vampire and the other being human. The female vampire tried for a roundhouse kick, but missed and received a blow to the side of her face with the slayer’s fist.
The slayer was dressed in black from head to toe, their face guarded by a half face mask that shielded everything below the bridge of their nose, and a useful utility belt holding up his flexible pants wielded pure silver stakes, and some kind of chain with a scythe-like blade attached to it.
I watched them go at each other for what seemed like only a second until I heard a stricken grunt come from the female vampire. She was going to lose, and when that was clear in the way the slayer thrust his deadly stake, I knew I couldn’t watch anymore.
With a vampire’s stamina, I dashed in their direction. Crossing the midnight, unpopulated street to get to Jude’s Square, I zipped passed the centering fountain, and gripped the slayer’s wrist before he could even think twice about bringing his stake down on the vampire’s chest.
He lost the game.
The slayer’s light eyes stared with passionate hatred into mine, his panting breaths being muffled by his mask. “Get out of here,” I ordered the female vampire, and since she could make out the flow of Demiesius’ authoritative blood within my veins, she used what strength she had to dart away as fast as she could.
Playfully, not yet ready to throw away the slayer, I opened my fangy mouth, and let out a hiss that made him wish he could get away. “You smell wonderful,” I disdainfully said with a grin. “A positive, delicious.”
The slayer shook to get away from me, but as my grip on him tightened, his motions came to a stop, just stood there before me as I debated on how I’d take his life.
I lifted my opposite hand, coiling a strand of his sleek and straight, dark tresses with my finger. “Why do you slayers always insist on wearing these silly masks? Either way, in a brawl, someone is going die. What’s the point of hiding?”
He didn’t answer me, of course, and settled his tired breathing. I ripped the stake he wielded from his hand, and threw it into the penny filled fountain several feet off. He watched it plop into the dark water, and I reached my hand to pull down his mask, only to make him struggle even more to get away from me.
Why not kill him now? It was fun.
I took hold of the rim of his mask and tugged it down until his face was known to my eyes. His eyes soft, his petite nose, his mouth, his light facial appearance was something I knew, and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I kept my hold on him and bug in my pocket, worked out the photograph of my slayer, and sure enough… it was him. His gray eyes, his pink lips, everything from the light tone of freckles on his winter-kissed cheeks.
“You…” I almost muttered. “You’re the slayer hunting me?”
His voice was unintimidating when he ordered, “Release me!”
My eyes looked about his face, how gorgeous he was up close and in person.
Ciel Dalton. “What is a boy like you doing murdering for a living?” I said.
He batted his eyes mischievously, “What is a vampire like you not doing killing me?”
He was amusing to the eye, a mere contradiction in itself to say the least with his stature, and for some reason I was contained from driving my fangs into him. Just a few minutes ago I wished him dead, now strangely I wanted him in my bed. “Y’know,” I said, “I’m not all too sure.”
A seductive smile tugged at his mouth, and he stepped closer to me, playful in his own manner, smoothing his free hand up my hard chest. “I don’t even know who you are, vampire. Why don’t you be a good fanger and let me go, now. I wouldn’t want to end up killing you like I’ve done all your other vampire brethren.”
Without heed Ciel, the slayer, turned me around, overpowering me with his endurance, and had a stake to my chest faster than I anticipated, but he didn’t drive it into my heart… surprisingly.
“You’re dead,” he whispered in my ear.
I laughed aloud, humored by his attempts, and found them very flirtatious. “You’re right. I’ve been dead for plus five hundred years. You’re a smart one, I must admit.”
Ciel furrowed his brow in utter confusion, releasing me so that I could turn around, but he wasn’t letting his guard down for a second. “What is up with you?” he said, “Why aren’t you trying to kill me? Seeing that you seem to know who I am, can’t you understand that I can kill you right here… right now?”
I faced him again, a knowing smile settling on my face. “Question is: why haven’t you killed me?”
“You’re annoying,” he said with intent.
Ciel’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. He slid his stake back into a vacant strap on his belt, and turned away from me, something slayers were always told not to do.
Never turn your back on a vampire.
I watched his nice ass as he walked away from me, the alluring sway of his sexy, slender hips with every distancing step he took. “Goodnight, vampire,” he said continuing his walk. “I’ll come back and kill you when I know who you are. I’m not comfortable going after a target I’m unsure of.” He stopped and looked back at me, a wink catching his eye, “Don’t wait up.”
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I’ve had sex with at least a thousand plus more different people in my eternal life; have bedded countless people in the past, but Ciel, my slayer, was something different. It’s a shame he has to die.