Bloodlust

I was going to kill a man tonight. 

That’s why I went to the party. It was an extravagant, black-tie affair thrown on a warm late summer evening at the end of July. Hosted by none other than Walter Adler, the richest man in town. Midnight was approaching, and with it, my deadline. I dressed the part, wearing a maroon dress with a corset torso and a slit up the thigh. My makeup was reminiscent of the famous women in 1950s era America. I was, as they say, dressed to kill. 

This particular estate had been blessed with a ballroom perfect for gatherings such as these. I was on the second floor of the galant mansion, leaning over the rail of a balcony overhanging a bar in the center of the house. I was at my perch, an elegant nighthawk waiting for my prey. I surveyed the scene when a beguiling young man leaning against the bar caught my eye.

He was an eyecatcher, that’s for sure. It wasn’t the extravagant, attention-seeking purple suit jacket unbuttoned on his chest that caught my eye, nor was it the loose black tie around his neck, the slicked back umber brown hair, or the toothpick used as a substitute for some form of nicotine between his teeth. It was the bloody knuckles, the immature carmine scar along his left arm, and the vague outline of a tattoo of a scorpion’s stinger barely visible along the back of his neckline.

That’s when I knew he was the one. He was described in his profile almost identically to how he appeared. His demeanor confirmed what we knew of his personality; that he was egomaniacal, vainglorious, but unfortunately charismatic and believes himself to be philanthropic. He was ingenious, devilishly handsome, and beyond intriguing. Surely only he could be the target I was assigned. It was such a shame I was going to have to kill him. 

There are plenty of ways to murder someone without any comprehension of observation on their part. In order to properly take the life of someone as smart as this particular gentleman, the key is to get him to notice the oddities engraved in your actions while providing enough of a distraction that he chalks it up to a beautiful dame’s unfortunate personality. This man was no halfwit, but he was young, attractive and vain. So, I deduced that an old fashioned plan of seduction would work out beautifully. For me, at least. 

I turned around and sauntered gallantly through the crowd of laughing and smiling wealthy people all pretending to have not a care in the world. If their lives were really that easy, I’d be out of a job. I demanded my presence to be conceded to subtly and silently as I smiled politely at those I walked past, muttering a few phrases of pardon along the way, all the while never taking my eyes off this mysterious charming stranger. I made my way down the mahogany staircase and along the edge of the room absolutely packed with dancers. I managed to spot the bar at the very end of the room, and strolled innocently towards it.

I sat in the barstool next to him, the curious stranger that had become my prey, and waited like a vampire in a doorway for just a few seconds before making direct eye contact. From this distance, he was even more of an engrossing sight. He had dark scruff resembling a goatee on his chin, perhaps a dozen small white scars along his hands, arms, and even one on his forehead, and he smelled vaguely of firewhiskey. Most of all, there was an impossible to miss look of a tormented wild beast hiding deep inside his eyes. 

After making it clear I was sizing him up, I gazed at his unbuttoned jacket and smiled. He started to look me up and down in response before smiling softly and shifting his body to face me while still charismatically leaning against the bar. He thought he was at the advantage point, little did he know he was walking right into my trap. He was playing along beautifully yet stupidly all at once. I had no time to waste. I reached out towards him, offering my hand while gazing playfully up into his tortured eyes. I asked delicately, “Care to dance?”

He grinned while grabbing my hand and slipping me off of the stool, “What’s the name, toots?”

I stepped closer to him so we were breathing the same air. I became acutely aware of the fact that he was at least five inches taller than I was. “Does it matter what my name is, as long as we both have a good time?”

He chuckled and grabbed me by the waist while leading me out onto the dance floor. “Fair enough, princess.” 

I was guided by the small of my back to the center of the dance floor as a romantic song began to play. This unfortunate target of mine was a phenomenal dancer, pulling me close then pushing me away, spinning me around and then even going so far as to dip me downwards as he gazed into my eyes in a tease. Then, he’d stand me on my feet and dance with me normally as if he hadn’t just nearly, almost, kissed me. Coming close but not close enough. Worst of all, he had made me want it. Which was a curse so unforgivable I could hardly stand it. 

Dancing with him felt like heaven, which distracted me more than I’d ever like to admit. I wanted him, when he was the last thing I should be wanting. I was on a mission. I don’t feel things, I’ve never felt things, and I wasn’t going to start now. But with him I was a spider lily, blossoming in the moonlight. If only I had any clue what was really blooming that night. Perhaps I would’ve done things differently. If that were the case, maybe I wouldn’t be dead.

He spun me around, gracefully twirling me through a doorway into an empty library away from the noise of the party. A nice, secluded area where no one could see us. 

We stopped our dance and he smiled. “You’re a good dancer.”

I beamed and glanced up at him, “You’re not bad yourself.” I put a hand on his chest, bit my lip teasingly as I stared into his dark, menacing eyes, “Would you like to go get some air?”

He chuckled in response, and I pulled back away from him. Laughter was not the correct reaction. He was straying from my plan. With a smirk, he replied, “How forward of you, babydoll. We’ve truly been having such a delightful time, I regret to inform you I’m going to have to kill you.” He pulled me closer again by the waist, refusing to let me escape. 

I furrowed my brows and scowled. The audacity, who does this insolent sorry excuse of an enemy mafia’s champion think he is?! It was my job to kill him, not the other way around. I was going to damn well make sure he knew that. I grabbed him by the tie and pulled downward, forcing him to drop to my eye level. “Watch it, teddy bear. I saw my target first, and I never miss.”

“Bold of you to assume you didn’t catch my eye as soon as you walked into the room.” He squeezed my waist, spun me around and pulled me backwards so my back was flush against him, and whispered in my ear from over my shoulder, “Your organization is corrupt. You won’t see us coming, the Scorpions will strike to kill before you can blink. You’re just one of many targets, darling. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you’re anything special.”

His failed attempt at hurting my ego was adorable. I spun back around to face him and wrapped my hands together behind his neck. “You assume I’m one of them.”

“You’re either one of them or they started hiring harlots to do their dirty work.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, but he wasn’t wrong; he simply saw through my plan. I grabbed his waist, taking my turn to pull him close and whisper in his ear, “You’re handsome, but I’m afraid that’s where the charm ends, dear. I’ll be the one doing the killing tonight.” With that, I unsheathed my dagger through the slit in my dress and held it up to his throat. 

I tried to slit it, but he held his arm up just in time and was barely preventing me from doing so. He used his legs to kick me in the stomach and I kneeled over, allowing him to grab the dagger and pin me against the wall from behind.

“You’re enamoring, glamorous, and clever. I’ll give you that. What you lack is the ability to anticipate someone just as enticing, charming, and intelligent as you working for the other side.”

I found his accusations laughable. With a chuckle and condescending smile, I retorted, “Once again you’re full of assumptions. I’m harder to read than you think. Also, how bold of you to think even for a moment we’re anything alike. You’ll never be as good as me. After all, I would’ve killed you by now if I was in your position.”

He grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind my back and he dug the blade a centimeter into the back of my neck. I felt the cool rush of fresh blood trickle down and along my spine. “As good as you are at what, darling? This strange little game we play, juggling puppets and puppet masters, doing as we’re told with no question under these false assumptions that we are making a name for ourselves, doing something praiseworthy, boosting our egos with the blood of our enemies. If we’re playing this game, you have to lose to win. You and I are both losers, love.”

I used my entire body weight to shove into him with my torso, knocking the dagger out of his hands. “Would you quit with all of the nicknames?!” I screamed as he twisted my wrists and pushed me harder against the wall in an attempt at pinning me. 

He started to breathe heavily in the struggle, but managed to say, “I would if you’d give me your name.”

I kicked him hard over and over in an attempt to get him off of me. I practically screamed in frustration, “Ha, fair enough.”

He pulled us both backwards in a quick jarring motion, shoved me to the floor as he let go of my wrists, brilliantly giving himself a few seconds of an advantage to bolt for the nearest open window overlooking the evening city lights. 

I propelled myself against the floor and jumped to my feet, turning to face him still standing in the window. I didn’t bother chasing after him. If he was going to jump out the window, pushing him wouldn’t do him any harm and it was too late to stop him at this point. So, I ran my hands through my hair and smiled. “You could always still join me, you know.” 

In a moment, he turned to face the fight-stained room. He smirked as he gazed at me with those haunted, gorgeous eyes. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not interested in your sorry excuse of a mafia. You’re nothing but a cult of bastards worshiping Miss Scarlet Leroux. And, believe me, she isn’t worth the hustle. Until next time. Save a dance for me, darling.”

With that, he fell backwards out the window.