That itself wasn't a crime, but what he had been doing was. Murder is murder, no matter if the
perpetrator is Inhuman or not. He wasn't part of my caseload, but I had seen his mug shot in the Brimstone's database. His name was Vlad, or Gustav, or Adolph, or some other name like that Vampires thought gave them some kind of meaning or connection to the darkness. Mostly it just sounded stupid. He was older than I was, but by how much I wasn't sure. That alone had me worried. As a Vampire aged, its grasp on sanity became more tenuous, and it grew in strength. Not a good combination. I could break a human's arm with little more than a twist of my wrist. This one, however, was probably strong enough to beat me into to a bloody smear on the sidewalk without giving it a second thought. Why was he running then?
I skidded to a stop in the street as the warning sirens began to blare in my mind. He had no reason to run from me. He was easily strong enough to destroy me. It must be a trap.
I became still and scanned the street. The shadow had vanished into the rain-soaked darkness. Reaching into my coat, I slid my hand around the Beretta's grip and pulled it free of the holster. Wrapping my free hand over my wrist to steady my aim, I started to backpedal slowly. The street was empty. He had taken me to the edge of the city. Boards crisscrossed empty doors and windows only allowing the wind to howl through. Several barren lots containing only trash and abandoned cars that had seen better days occupied the opposite side of the street. A squat warehouse stood in the distance, the number of broken windows along the top outnumbering those still intact. As lightning flashed twice, I thought I could see shadows moving in the flickering light. It started to make sense in my mind. This one was a tricky old bastard. It was a rookie mistake. I underestimated this Vampire. It could prove to be the final mistake of my afterlife. My instincts were screaming to run away, but I knew the second I turned my backthey would be on me. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there. The Vampire had lured me right into the middle of his brood. Setting my jaw, I reached down my shirt collar and yanked off an amulet slung around my neck. A gaudy affair with a wide purple gem set in the middle of a twisting, silver mount. It was more than just ugly jewelry, though. I hated to do this, but I wasn't sure what I was up against. Dropping it, I crushed it with the heel of my boot. The spell was activated. Backup was on its way. I hoped.
Magic was an odd thing. Sometimes it worked, other times it didn't. The “foolproof” amulets had become standard issue, but there were numerous reports of the spell malfunctioning and the message never getting through. Brimstone's top Magesassured the field agents that they worked. That was after I had seen another Seeker shredded by a pack of Werewolves when no backup showed. Several ashen faces appeared out of the gloom. Their expressions were drawn, but their eyes glistened like polished black opals. They moved carefully and deliberately into a semicircle, pushing my back to the wall. If I ran, they would be on me in an instant. I started to feel like General Custer making his last stand. He appeared out of the gloom, safely behind his brood. “This game is at an end, Seeker." He knew what I was.
The Brimstone Betrayal
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