The meeting hadn't started yet and my toes were turning into soggy raisins, thanks to the hard cold
rain coming down. October in Toronto - you may love it or hate it, but as long as it's not snow it's all
good. Which is why I was sitting in a puddle of water in the darkness on a warehouse roof peeking
through an air vent to see what my company's competitor was about to reveal to their Board of
Directors.
A single drop rolled down my nose, cold on colder skin. Clapping my hand over my mouth I closed
my eyes and held my breath for a long minute. Sure, it was a long stretch that they would hear
anything over the thunder cracking the air over us, but I couldn't afford to get caught. MackyMack
Delights wouldn't bail me out of jail and I had no doubt that ChocoFun wasn't going to either. The
tickling subsided, letting me breathe again.
Safe again, I leaned over the small monitor, brushing away the blurring drops as the minicamera
caught an image of the CEO, David Longstreet, walking to the front of the table. The room was
sparsely furnished - the ten men obviously uncomfortable in anything that wasn't polished oak and
leather and making do with the cheap chipboard table and the mismatched chairs sitting around it.
"Gentleman..." Longstreet's voice boomed out. Dialing the speaker down with a spin I rubbed my ear
and cursed again as a trickle of water ran down inside. "Gentlemen, I thank you for coming here
tonight under less than convenient circumstances."
The bottled chuckles rolled onto my tape at a decent level. I watched as they sat down almost
simultaneously, each watching Longstreet as he placed the briefcase on the table, causing the thin
wood to creak under the weight.
"I'll cut to the chase, gentlemen. I have here the next great product for not only ChocoFun, but
possibly for the entire industry." The lid flipped up. "Presenting Bloodsuckers!"
As the suits leaned forward to get a clearer look at the small candy I spun the dial to zoom in, trying
to get a good shot while keeping a good grip on the small black plastic in the drizzle. Spytechs come
a long way in the past decade, but there's still only so much you can get. As it was, all I saw was a
small brown rectangle with a garish wrapper lying to one side. Another crash of thunder over my
head reminded me to thank the camera's builders for making it waterproof. Too bad I wasn't.
"As you can see, here we have a sweet little chocolate coffin" Pulling out a cheap pair of plastic
fangs he drove them into the center of the candy then turned it on one side; letting everyone see the
red liquid that oozed out of the holes. "Cherry juice, just at the right viscosity to make it look like
blood and the kids will lick it up like crazy!" He beamed as the murmurs started around the table.
"Right now, vampires are a hot television and movie commodity and this is pointed directly at that
consumer group. The store display is going to include free plastic fangs on a side box and you can
bet that this is going to fly off the shelves at Halloween." Dipping a finger into the sticky pool he
smiled. "Sweet and chocolately, this is going to be the biggest hit of the year, to say nothing of the
trade shows!"
The pictures were clearer than I expected; good enough for my boss to get a similar product
underway as soon as they could crank up the machines. Oh, sure there'd be rumours and
suspicions and mutterings, but it didn't mean a thing without evidence. And this was going from my
computer to theirs and into the vault as soon as possible, if they didn't destroy it to cover all the
options. Me, I'd pocket a nice fee and slide on over to my next job.
They hovered around the table for a few more minutes, humming stereotyped approvals before
Longstreet waved them into silence. "Gentlemen, that ends the meeting. I appreciate the trouble you
took to come out here at this late hour, but I'm sure you understand the secrecy we needed
regarding this." His eyes focused on one young pup at the far end. "David, how soon can we retool a
line to start production?"
The youngster stuttered, wiping his brow. "Two days at the max. I can force them to go faster, but
we'll have to pay overtime and start a bit of tongues wagging." He frowned. "We can cut off the
Cherry Surprise and recast the molds overnight. Same concept, same" Longstreet cut him off with a
slicing motion.
"Do it." He tapped the table. "I want this up by tomorrow night, no matter what the cost. I also want
Marketing to create an adult advertising campaign as well."
"Adult?" One of the older men frowned. "You want to focus on selling this to adults on a separate
campaign?"
"Brindell, Goths are one of the biggest growing groups along with wannabee vampires. Hell, look at
the rock concerts." Longstreet grinned. "This is going to be marketed across the board. And they're
going to lap it up, excuse the pun." He waved an arm at the warehouse wall. "A hit with kids and
adults. Who can't tell me that it's not going to sell?"
I nodded my response, for what it was worth, glancing at the monitor as it continued to record. With a
final winning smile Longstreet scooped up the sticky candy and dropped it back into his briefcase,
snapping it shut. Good idea boss-man, don't leave any trace you were there. He pulled out an
embroidered white hankerchief to wipe his hands. "Now, gentlemen let's get out there and make
money!"
Handshakes were exchanged as the meeting began to break up, the conversations dissolving into
platitudes, blind promises of friendship and discussions on whose secretary was the cutest. One last
solitary raindrop fell onto my nose as I began to pull up the small snake, closing down the station.
The entire kit fit into a knapsack, which worked well for me since I was going to climb down the
rustiest fire escape in the world and pray that it didn't drop me thirty feet to the ground. And that
wasn't going to happen until everyone left, which hopefully was going to be soon. At least it had
stopped raining.
"That went well." A new voice broke over my headphones, freezing me in my tracks. I glanced down
at the disassembled camera in my hands, useless. I had sent down the mike line first to make sure it
wasn't noticed; then the camera snake itself and to try and drop it again would probably give me
away. Not to mention that the recording equipment was already packed up.
"It went great." Longstreet's now-familiar voice rang in my ears. "They'll have the kiddy stuff out
sooner than that; they're as greedy as it gets."
"Well, aren't we all." A thick laugh. "Do you foresee any problems with the second line?"
"I doubt it. We'll call the night staff in and have them work for a special promotional batch; they won't
be any the wiser." Behind me I could hear the limos starting up and racing off into the night, the
corporate men returning to more familiar surroundings. Longstreet paused, his voice strained.
"The... extra line... production needs..."
"We'll be delivering it when you call, not before." The voice went solemn. "You realise that if you're
caught we will not allow you to discuss this with anyone else."
For one of the first times since tailing the executive for weeks I heard fear in Longstreet's voice.
"Ah... we have good lawyers. I have connections in a lot of places. We can tie cases up in litigation
for years, if need be."
The tone shifted to a scornful one, reminding me of a principal berating one of his pupils. "I'm telling
you that if anyone figures out anything you will be the first to die." A soft hissing sound. "And even
that may take time."
I jerked back on my heels, almost taking the headphones off my ears. It's one thing to talk business,
another to threaten murder outright.
"I… we'll be fine." A sense of false bravado came out in Longstreet's words. "After all, we both
benefit by the... product."
"Yes, we both do." The thick voice conceded. "But remember - you must keep the... second line
products away from the public. Even a single person discovering the contents..." It began to fade
away as the speaker moved out of range of the mike. "I do not wish for our partnership to fail. Nor
should you, since the consequences will be severe." A door slammed shut.
"Right. You bet." The fear in the businessman's voice faded as he continued to babble to the empty
room. "We'll keep it all under wraps and you'll make me and Chocofun rich." I heard one last
strangled sigh before footsteps signalled his leaving as well.
Pulling up the mike I pondered over the words while rolling it around my fingers into a small loop and
tucking it into the side pocket of my pack. As I zipped it up my mind began to run down various
possibilities, free of the job for the moment. Maybe some sort of drug deal; maybe some sort of
smuggling ring...
"You are most curious." The voice behind me was familiar, as in a-few-seconds-ago familiar.
Spinning around I stared at the tall man; his hands tucked into the pockets of his black leather jacket
with a casual attitude as if we were standing in one of those fancy bars down on Queen Street West.
"In some cases that might be an admirable trait, but not in this one." The cowboy boots and worn
light blue jeans gave him a bit of a tough guy look, backed up by one ugly scar that ran from his left
eyebrow down his cheek and neck, disappearing into a thin mat of dark hair poking out from under
the garish purple shirt. Yes, it looked like a bad 70's flashback, really. I had no idea how he'd
travelled from the room below me up onto the roof so fast, but I wasn't interested in that right now.
My job doesn't include making small talk.
Reaching inside my worn old combat jacket I withdrew my .38 and leveled it at the man. "I don't want
to hurt you. Now back off and let me leave." Picking up the knapsack I stood and slung it over my
open shoulder, keeping the barrel aimed at him with my best stoic expression on my face. "Just turn
around and walk away and I'll do the same. Bygones be bygones and all that stuff."
He laughed, scratching the back of his neck under the short dark hair with his right hand, keeping
the left stuck in the front pocket of his jeans. "A feisty one. I like that. But I think you really don't
appreciate your situation." A wide grin sent a shiver down my spine, his teeth so bright and white that
it could have been in a dental ad. "But I think you might be able to learn..." He stepped forward, over
the low air vent I had been using to access the warehouse below.
"Don't make me shoot you." I warned, my stomach twisting into knots. "I'm serious, bud. I'm no rookie
to using this and I don't want to hurt you unless I have to." I stepped back, feeling my sneakers grip
the loose gravel. "Just let me go and we can all just walk away from this." Maybe repeating it would
make it happen.
Raising his hands over his head as if to surrender he grinned even wider, taking another step
forward. "Go ahead. I'll give you a freebie." His grey eyes narrowed, suddenly a startling coldness
washing over his expression. "Really."
Dropping the barrel down I squeezed the trigger, aiming for the upper left leg. I know, I know - most
times you don't get the luxury of aiming, but if I was going to be hauled in for shooting someone I
wanted him to be alive for the trial. And if he was going to ramble for his lawyer and the jury the way
he was right now, I was home free. Heck, I'd have no problem arguing that I feared for my life; as it
was he was scaring the crap out of me just by speaking. And that might just be enough of an injury
to hold him back and let me get away. I'd call the cops afterwards and tell them where to pick up the
fellow where he was lying on the roof, of course. I'm not totally mercenary.
Except he wasn't dropping. In fact, he took another step forward on the rooftop; placing him mere
inches from me. I looked down, seeing the blood drip out of the button-sized hole in the thigh I had
just drilled. His head tilted downward as he locked eyes with me, the grin returning with an even more
feral spin on it, if that were possible.
"Oh, sweetie... that's going to cost you." The words came down a long tunnel as I felt myself
beginning to relax; weary muscles that should be cramping from the long wet stay on the roof
loosening up under my damp clothing. "You're too beautiful to be playing with weapons like that; you
deserve better. Maybe a nice nap somewhere..."
My fingers began to slacken their grip on the old revolver as he stepped forward again, steady on
his feet. His eyes caressed mine with gentleness both shocking and sexual in its intensity. A cloud
filled my mind; the fog wrapping itself around every thought.
The first time I got drunk, seriously drunk was with my father on my thirteenth birthday. My mother
was furious when she walked in on us in the kitchen, drinking shot after shot of good Scotch whiskey
with beer chasers. Da laughed and reminded her that while we may be Canadian that he was
Scottish and me half-Scottish by default and thus drinking was as natural as breathing and it was
about time I learnt about my heritage. She began to recite a mantra of warnings to me; watched him
refill both glasses and she stomped off in a rage to wait for me to sprint to the bathroom and begin
my vigil on the cool tile floor. I was sick for three days afterwards and still can't drink on my birthday.
Any other day, but not that one.
It was that sort of intoxicating feeling; the smooth caress of the air heightened to the point of a single
raindrop bouncing off my exposed hand shattering the smoothness of the skin and sending sparks
along my spine. Everything was larger and clearer, even as my mind began to shut down into a
willing stupor; turning over all decisions to this mysterious man.
"I know you've got to be tired, wet and just a bit sleepy right now." The mellow tones swirled around
me. "In fact, you probably want to just come over here and let me take care of you..." He purred in a
low whisper. "Come here and let me take care of you."
My eyelids began to droop, despite all the caffeine pills I had taken over the past few hours. My arms
felt like they had heavy weights strung out from each finger; dragging my hands down as I stumbled
forward towards the mysterious man, towards his open and waiting arms. The revolver hung from my
index finger, swinging precariously on the trigger guard; just another weight about to be discarded.
"Why don't you take care of this." My muddy mind identified another voice, this one behind me. I
wanted to turn and look but couldn't; my eyes fixed on the stranger as I took another step forward,
staggering towards the safety of his arms. His lips curled up in a smile as he stretched one hand out
towards me, almost close enough to touch.
A thick wooden bolt lanced through his shoulder, stabbing a small hole in the leather jacket as the
fat twig stuck in his flesh; sending him back a few feet. The stranger snarled as his hand came up to
where it had punched through the black leather and curled around the shaft. With a groan he
yanked it free, tossing it to the ground. Blinking my way out of the mental fog I gripped the revolver
again, feeling my knuckles crack with the pressure. I pulled it up and levelled it at his chest, forcing
air into my lungs in deep gasps as if I'd come up from the bottom of Lake Ontario.
"Don't pull that crap again!" My voice was high and squeaky, as if I'd been mainlining helium out of
the carnival balloons. My finger twitched on the trigger, sending two bullets into his chest; sinking
into the violent purple fabric. Even now I don't know if I really meant to do it or was just trying to get
away. Not that it made a difference.
With a snarl he turned away from me, breaking into a run as he headed for the edge of the building;
the dark cowboy boots kicking up loose gravel in their wake as a second bolt roared just shy of him,
pulling to the left. Throwing his arms outwards he sprang into the air, tossing himself over the edge
and disappearing from sight as one last wooden projectile waffled through the air towards nothing.
"What the..." I ran to the edge and looked over, seeing nothing and no one in the dirty alley below.
Turning back I slid down against the cool stone ledge and shook my head, forcing back the nausea
swirling in my gut; wiping the wetness from my forehead. My hand was shaking as I grabbed a
reloader out of one pocket. Gripping the hard black plastic holder I focused in on the six fresh bullets
sitting there, set in a circle and ready to replace their spent friends. Popping the empty cartridges
out into my palm I dumped them into one pocket, grabbing the speedloader and slotting the live
rounds up. The speedloader fell back into my pocket as I automatically checked to make sure the
safety was off and the weapon ready to go again. The pulse pounding in my ears mocked the waves
of bile surging up my throat. I hadn't fired the damned thing in years. Heck, I was secretly thrilled I
managed to reload without either throwing up all over myself or scattering the bullets and empty
cartridges over the rooftop.
"Hey there." I looked up to see another man, this one holding a crossbow in both hands; some sort
of ancient reloader sitting atop the bamboo structure. Placing it on the gravel by his right foot he
raised both hands, a sly smile touching his lips. "Don't shoot me. I'm one of the good guys."
I didn't lower my weapon, although I had to grip it with both hands to stop shaking. "What the hell is
going on here and who are you and what the hell is all this about?" A bitter taste of iron filled my
mouth, shocking me into the fact that I had bitten my lip somewhere down the line.
A blast of cold air blew the short black hair into his face. Brushing it back he raised his hands again,
keeping his distance. "Name's Fletcher Dillon. That..." One hand gestured towards the abyss behind
me. "That was Janus Rosethorn. At least at present."
"Okay." I didn't let my sights move off his chest. "And who the hell is Rosethorn that he sucks up
three bullets and your arrows and jumps off buildings?"
Dillon shrugged. "A vampire. What else?"
At this point I feel the need to say that I have always been of a hearty sort thanks in part to holding a
variety of jobs in my life. I do not go into a ladylike swoon upon being in a stressful situation. I have
only fainted twice in my life; once when I was six and nearly sliced a finger off with a hatchet at a
wilderness camp and once in high school when I tried my first joint trying to impress some boy and
hyperventilated.
This was the third time.