Flames of Fury

Book 3: Dogs of War

Prologue

Nightshade

Three slips. Three names.

It’ll be a busy week.

If you give me a name then you already know my price…and you know these things cannot be undone.

The names that come to me are not those of the neighbor with the loud dog that you’ve complained to the police about at least five times and they’ve done nothing about it. They’re not those of common criminals, members of rival gangs, or people who owe you money. They’re not even those of that boss you had one summer that got a little too close, a little too friendly. The boss that would make you stay after hours and hover over your desk chair pretending to look at your computer screen when in reality he’s staring down your blouse.

They’re on someone’s list, rest assured.

But not mine.

The names that I take are the ones that keep you up at night. The ones that have wronged you so egregiously that your teeth hurt just thinking about them. They’re the ones that slip through the judicial cracks, the untouchables. Maybe they’re supernatural, maybe they’re not. Makes no difference to me. I don’t care why you gave me their name.

Because everyone’s got a name.

Everyone.

The only difference is that now you’re ready. You’re ready to pay any price to see that they’re punished, to see that they’re wiped clean from existence. Some people even make special requests. They want the name they give me whipped, strangled, decapitated. Whatever gets their rocks off.

But not you. You’ve given me artistic license to take out your name as I please.

That simple fact tells me more about this name than you’d think. Either you truly don’t care how this person meets their end, so long as they do. Or, they’ve hurt you so badly, so irreparably, that even picturing their face as they die a death of your choosing is too painful.

With my prices I’m inclined to believe the latter.

Again, not my business. What is my business is Collin Driscoll, the name you gave me five days ago. In two days you’ll be back to the bar to settle your proverbial tab — so tonight is the night.

Collin is a real charmer. I mean that sarcastically.

He wakes up around ten in the morning and rolls out of bed like the sun itself owes him something. He’s late to work everyday because of it, not that anyone calls him out on it. No, he walks around like he owns the place which is particularly amusing since he’s the newest intern and therefore the lowest paid person in that building.

There’s nothing remarkable about him physically. He’s an average six feet tall, he’s athletic but spongy with no muscle definition. He has somewhat longer sandy colored hair that he styles back like your stereotypical ivy league frat boy.

What is remarkable about him is his ability to unapologetically bullshit his way through his days. He walks through his life like he’s entitled to the air around him. Like everyone owes him a favor for being in his presence.

He told his coworkers a story once about how he once interned with his heart surgeon mother as a pre-med student and how he was already much more competent than the nurses there to the degree that he saved four lives that day — it would have been five if he hadn’t gone to the bathroom.

His words. Not mine.

I did my homework. Collin was never a pre-med student. He volunteered at the hospital’s affiliated nursing home passing out pre packed meds. Of course he was late almost everyday, which led his mother to amend her will which threatened his inheritance, yadda yadda.

You know the type.

So that’s how he ended up at this new temp job.

I get it. I get why he might be on your list. He has a killable quality to him.

Collin Driscoll goes to the bar almost every night after a lackluster five hour work day. Did you know he brags to men and women alike that he’s important to his company? That he’s one of the executives and has a corner office of all things? Did you know that?

Today is Friday so his inhibitions are a little looser than they’ve been the last five days, which is saying something. Every prospective girl he’s chatted up has left him alone at the bar seeking better options. Except this one girl. Her friends have all left on the arms of Collin’s friends, leaving her to exit the bar and walk home on her own.

Collin does the gentlemanly thing and goes after her to walk her home. I’m sure he just wants to make sure she gets home safely.

That’s more sarcasm.

We know he doesn’t give a shit about her safety.

The girl he’s chasing did everything right. She kept her drink covered in her hands and didn’t accept any drink she didn’t watch being made. She walked on a busy, well lit sidewalk. Her cellphone was pressed to ear for appearances, she wasn’t actually talking to anyone on the other end.

But Collin Driscoll didn’t care about any of these things, after all the rules don’t apply to him. The girl stumbled a moment when Collin caught up to her, his presence was unexpected and unwelcome.

Collin, noticing her stumble a moment, wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged on her causing her to stumble more, causing him to wrap his other hand around her and tug her even more until they were in an alley between two apartment buildings and hidden by tall shadows.

Up until now the girl had a forced, polite smile on her face. But when he pushed against her and backed her up against the brick building her smile quickly faded and was swiftly replaced by fear.

Fear has a taste. It’s metallic, like iron, and it’s cold. I can taste her fear from where I’m perched on the rooftop of a building across the street, looking down at the scene before me.

I swoop across the street and dive down into the alley all the while hidden by the same shadows that conceal Collin and the girl. I don’t want to call her his victim, because she won’t be a victim tonight.

But Collin will be. He’ll be mine.

I’m not quiet when I land in the alley. I make some noise as I walk around trash bins and abandoned crates because I need to draw Collin’s attention my way long enough for the girl to slip away and get home safely.

Collin plays his role marvelously. He turns his head to look down the alley, he tilts backwards slightly to get a better look but it’s useless because the alley only gets darker the deeper into it you look.

The girl who did everything right plays her part too. She recognizes her opportunity to put distance between her and Collin and get back onto the sidewalk and in the public eye. She slips away perfectly, leaving Collin looking around frantically, torn between following her and pursuing the sound that cost him his felony.

Time for the main act.

I tap on Collin’s shoulder. He turns around violently, his mouth open slightly in preparation to shout at an empty alleyway.

I step out of the shadows only inches in front of him, and in that nanosecond of surprise where his mouth widens in sync with his eyes I take my eye dropper and deposit my personal brand of death on his tongue.

Again, Collin knows all his lines. “What the fuck was that?” He tries to spit out the liquid on his tongue, but the damage is done, his fate is sealed. “Who the fuck are you?” He shouts angrily.

“Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that you understand why this is happening to you.” I say to him calmly, tucking my dropper back into my pocket.

“Right now Collin, a concentrated dose of deadly nightshade is making its way through your bloodstream. Try not to panic, I added a paralytic so if you find moving or speaking difficult that’s not part of the death process, that’s just so I can make sure I have your full attention.”

Collin makes a gurgling noise and stumbles backwards against the wall before collapsing against it and falling down to the ground. I sit him up so I can look him in the eye for you.

“There we go,” I grin at him like a true psychopath. “Doesn’t feel good not having control of your body, does it? I wonder if that’s why you’re on my list, Collin. Is it possible that you hurt someone, maybe recently, maybe a while ago, but enough that the mere thought of you made them so desperate for your death that they sold a part of their soul to make it happen?”

Collin’s eyes dart back and forth frantically, sweat beading at his forehead.

“Yes, Collin. Tonight you will die. In fact,” I stretch out my left arm and bend it to look at the watch on my wrist, “it should be in the next 30 to 45 seconds. Your heart will feel like it’s beating out of your chest. Perhaps that’s what all those women you preyed on felt like, that panic that creeps up on you causing your heart rate to spike. Poetic isn’t it? That you should die in the same alley, feeling the same terror that I’m sure countless women have trapped in your entitled grip.”

I cock my head to the side and grow a sick, malicious grin. “Fuck you, Collin Driscoll. On behalf of the people who want you dead, and the people who will be glad you’re gone. You will not be missed.”

Collin’s eyes stop searching, his heart rate increases, beating faster and faster until eventually there’s no sound at all.

I step back into the shadows and fly up and away.

Maybe tonight, but more likely tomorrow, someone will happen upon Collin Driscoll’s body in the alleyway. The autopsy will reveal that Collin had a heart attack. The police report will say that his drug use and abuse of alcohol took a toll on his young body, sending him to an early grave.

But you and I know better.

Your price? Besides sweet vengeance?

Living with yourself. Living with knowing that you killed Collin Driscoll.

But seeing what a prick he is — or was, rather— I can tell that you have the funds to pay that price.

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