«It’s already late. I think it’s safer for you to take the bus ho. You know, it’s almost nine, and at this hour there are worse people around than during the day. As for , don’t worry. I’ll wait with you at the stop until the bus arrives, then my mother will pick up. She’s the nosy type and would start bombarding with embarrassing questions about you, thinking you’re my girlfriend, inviting you to dinner, and so on. Sothing I’d rather avoid.»
That’s the excuse I used to send Brianne off after an entire afternoon and early evening together.
After running away from that bar, we took shelter on a bench in a playground full of families with their kids, then treated ourselves to sushi for dinner.
I would have gladly stayed with her until tomorrow morning, but an irresistible urge had been gnawing at ever since we left that shady bar—followed from a distance by the three guys who had harassed Brianne.
My unconventional paladin-of-justice streak burns hotter than my desire to have sex with her.
They’re probably waiting for us to move sowhere less crowded before making their move, and that’s exactly what I intend to give them.
A mont ago, Brianne finally got on the bus, and now it’s my ti to have so fun.
I can see them clearly—leaning casually against a wall about fifty ters away, smoking and chatting as if nothing happened, but throwing a glance every now and then to keep track of .
They think the darkness of night works in their favor.
Pfft, fools.
Long Island City at this hour is pretty deserted, but not enough.
I need to find an even more desolate alley with no one around, and that’s exactly what I’m about to do.
A cough to draw their attention and make sure they follow , then I start walking, deliberately moving away from the more central area.
They follow , slowly closing the gap.
Perfect. Just as planned.
I don’t even want to imagine what could have happened to Brianne if I hadn’t been with her a few hours ago—she certainly wouldn’t have gone ho without a bad mory, or worse.
Who knows how many other girls they’ve harassed before her, yet the police that showed up let them go after just a few seconds, probably with so useless warning.
It’s clear that if those incompetents can’t do their job, it’s up to to make sure these three aren’t a danger to anyone anymore.
In less than ten minutes, they’re so close I can hear them chuckling behind .
I turn into a particularly dark and grim dead-end alley.
And again, they follow.
Checkmate.
«Well, well, look who it is... the kid from this afternoon. Small world, huh?» The voice of the stocky man I punched in the face echoes maliciously behind , still clearly slurred from his broken jaw.
«Yeah, what a coincidence. Who would’ve guessed...» I answer with obvious sarcasm, turning toward them.
The three walk heavily toward , moving far away from the mouth of the alley.
Those idiots have fallen right into my trap—they have no chance of getting out alive.
They’re stunned when I vanish in front of their eyes, reappearing a mont later behind them, cutting off their escape.
Unfortunately, it’s not so fancy teleportation magic.
I’m just using my speed and the darkness so that, to their eyes, I’m gone.
Now there’s only a wall in front of them and behind.
They spin around toward .
They glance at each other, confused, muttering nervously—they clearly didn’t like my trick.
But they can’t even imagine what’s coming for them.
My mouth waters just thinking about their blood spilling on the asphalt, their heads rolling like soccer balls.
But I won’t kill them right away—I want to see the terror in their eyes first, see them crying on their knees, trembling and begging for their lives.
Only then will I be satisfied enough to end their agony.
«Are you enjoying mocking ?! You’re making mad, kid. You don’t know who you’re ssing with! I’m one of Hawkley’s n! Yeah, John Hawkley! Scared now, huh?!» the stocky man shouts with anger and an irritating smirk.
As if that could impress in the slightest. Idiot.
Wait a second... if he’s one of John’s thugs... could he be a demon?
If that’s the case, and if the other two are as well, I might have gotten myself into trouble.
Could this be John’s way of intimidating ? What a ss...
But I don’t have ti to dwell on it before the stocky man pulls out a gun—pointing it straight at .
«W-Wait, boss... we weren’t supposed to kill the kid. We were just going to teach him a lesson for daring to hit you,» one of the two henchn stamrs nervously, but the stocky man doesn’t care in the slightest.
I let out a sigh of relief.
If he knew I was a vampire, he would never have pointed a firearm at .
That ans John has nothing to do with this and that this guy probably isn’t even a demon—just one of his n swaggering around, confident in the protection of a big na.
Well, I doubt John will mourn his death.
The man is about to open fire, but suddenly hesitates and starts trembling as my eyes glow red and the massive scythe of solid blood forms in my hand.
«I... I’ll blow your brains out, you cheap street magician!»
But before he can pull the trigger...
—SLASH!
A heart-wrenching scream—coming from the stocky man.
With his left hand, he clutches at the spot where, just a second ago, his right hand had been—the one holding the gun—now severed cleanly.
A river of red gushes from his wrist, and he collapses to his knees in front of , screaming desperately and crying in pain as a crimson pool spreads beneath him.
Exactly what I wanted to see to satisfy my sense of justice.
Perfect. I’d say now I can kill them.
The scythe glimrs under the moonlight and the faint glow of the streetlamps, ready to swing at the neck of that arrogant bastard, when...
—CLANG!
Sothing slips between the blade and the man’s neck, blocking my strike.
A sword of white flas, yet solid—the weapon of a Monster Reaper.
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