I met him in the eighteenth century. He was lost, alone, and bleeding out in the mud like a dying animal. He was barely twenty when I found him, shivering under the weight of a storm that could've drowned the world. I remember standing over him, the rain soaking through my cloak, the smell of his blood cutting through the air like incense. I didn't turn him out of mercy. No, I did it because I wanted control, I wanted loyalty and because I saw something in him, something that would never betray me.
That boy is Michael. My childe. My loyal shadow. My blade. But in the human world, my personal security detail.
After my bath, I changed into my biker's outfit. A thick leather jacket, long heavy denim jeans, the kind that hugged my legs just right. I zipped up my boots, the leather creaking with every movement, then put on my gloves. My hair was still damp when I twisted it into a tight bun at the back of my head. I sprayed my perfume, something subtle but sharp, amber and smoke, and I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment.
By the time I got to the garage, the scent of oil and polish hit me like an old memory. My babies sat waiting, rows of exotic cars and bikes, each one shining under the dim lights. I walked past them slowly, my boots echoing on the marble floor, until I stopped in front of my favorite, the BMW F 900 GS. She was truly a beauty.
I always took her with me whenever I had business outside the city. She is perfect, has a great balance and oddly comforting.
"Did you miss me, darling?" I whispered, running my hand along her side. I gave her a playful spank and smiled. "Be a good girl for me today, alright?"
I slid on my helmet, swung my leg over, and gripped the handles. The moment the engine purred to life, a low thrill ran through me. That sound, smooth, controlled, and dangerous, I loved it. Then I drove off.
The old manor is a property I own on the outskirts of the city, quiet and ancient. It was one of my oldest estates, built in the late 1800s, back when people still thought I was just another wealthy widow. Now, it served another purpose, a place for unfinished business.
When I pulled into the gravel drive, the front door opened before I even turned off the engine. Michael stepped out, tall and muscular, his silver eyes lighting up when he saw me.
"My lady," he said softly.
I smiled faintly and pulled him into a brief hug, running my fingers through his hair. "You've been behaving, haven't you?"
He chuckled, that boyish sound still there after all these centuries. "You take such good care of me, how could I not?"
I scoffed lightly. "Flattery doesn't suit you, Michael."
We walked down the long hallway together, the echo of our steps bouncing off the stone walls. "You said there's something I needed to see," I said.
He nodded, his tone suddenly serious. "Yes. I didn't want to do too much until you saw them yourself."
"Good boy," I murmured.
He led me down to the underground chamber, the air growing colder with every step. When we entered, I saw them, three men and one woman, each tied separately to the stone pillars. Their eyes widened the second they saw me. Fear made their faces pale.
The woman whimpered softly. Her face was slightly bruised, although not nearly as bad as the men, whose jaws looked pretty broken. I sighed and glanced at Michael.
"Damn Michael. Is your version of not doing too much?" I asked dryly.
He smiled faintly. "I restrained myself, my lady."
I hummed, then walked toward the woman, bending in front of her. She flinched as I touched her chin and tilted her face up to the light. "Remind me again what she did."
"She's the wife of that oil tycoon," Michael said calmly. "The one who accused you of trying to steal her husband."
"Oh," I said, recognition dawning. I chuckled. "Right. That bitch." I looked at the woman again and shook my head. "You had the nerve to talk to me like I was some shit just because your cheating husband couldn't keep his hands to himself. Pathetic."
"Please," she whispered, trembling.
"Please?" I mocked, standing up. "It's just a pity your husband's going to be a widower, but don't worry. He'll get over you soon enough. He has plenty of girls to pick from anyways."
She started crying as I walked past her.
I moved to the next person, recognizing him immediately. The former head of my finance department. His face was swollen, his eyes bloodshot. "Oh, you," I said with a sigh. "You had the guts to steal from me, and you tried to move the money to an offshore account. That was a pretty dumb decision."
He started shaking his head violently. "I—I'm sorry! Please, Miss Vale, I didn't mean to! I swear I'll never—"
I raised my hand. "Enough. I don't wanna hear it"
He froze.
"If apologies fixed everything," I said coldly, "then people would do whatever they want and just say sorry afterwards." I stepped closer, my boots clicking. "But I don't do mistakes, and every loose end, has to be taken care of."
He began sobbing, muttering prayers I didn't care about. I left him to his misery and turned to the third one, a man with eyes like burning coal. His expression was calm, almost defiant.
A daywalker.
They were vampires, who were stronger, and could also walk in the sun without the fear of getting burned. I could smell the difference on him.
"Has he said anything yet?" I asked.
Michael shook his head. "Nothing at all. He just keeps smiling."
"Ah," I said softly, meeting the man's gaze. "He's the type that enjoys pain."
He smirked. "You think you're untouchable?" he said. You should know that killing me won't stop what's coming. They'll only keep sending more, until you're dead. So let's just get this over with."
I smiled faintly. "You're brave," I murmured. "Even for someone whose coven abandoned him to die." I brushed a hand against his cheek, almost tender. "Don't worry I promise to make your death painless. Consider this a little parting gift from me."
Then I turned to the last man. He looked ordinary, terrified, sweating, but his eyes burned with something else.
"What's his story?" I asked.
Michael's jaw tightened. "He's the last one the reporter allegedly spoke to before that article came out this morning. So apparently, he knows too much."
"Oh?" I tilted my head. "That's interesting."
I leaned down, my voice dropping. "Tell me, how much did he pay you to betray me? Or did he promise you something else that made you think it would be smart enough to say shit about me?"
Then he spat at me.
Before I even blinked, Michael's rushed at him, and landed a blow on his face, breaking his lip open. Blood splattered across the floor. "How dare you—"
I raised my hand. "It's okay Michael."
I wiped my cheek with the back of my glove and bent down more, gripping the man's chin hard enough to make him wince. "That was brave," I said quietly. "But really stupid."
He coughed, as a thin trail of blood ran down his chin. "I'm not afraid of you," he rasped. "Whatever you are, whoever you are, you'll be exposed."
For a second, I just looked at him. Then I started laughing. It was low, dark, genuine but mischievous.
"Oh, I like you," I said softly. "You're tenacious, courageous, and fearless." I released his face and stood up walking away from them. "You won't die. Atleast not yet. I have better plans for you."
Michael blinked, clearly surprised, but following closely behind. "What kind of plans?"
I turned my head slightly, a smirk curving my lips. "The kind that reminds people why they should never play games with me."