|
Short Stories
© 2007 Sean J. Logan
The Vampire entered
the pub quietly, and headed toward the bar. Without
a sound he approached the man sitting on the
barstool, who was talking to the bartender. His back
was to the creature of the night.
He continued his conversation with the bartender.
"You know those kind," the man quipped, "They have
no honor." He picked up his Guinness and took a sip,
then placed the glass back on the bar. Silently,
Jerard withdrew two stilettos from their belt
sheaths, one on each hip. He raised the daggers up
to the head level of the man on the barstool,
pointing inward. In one swift movement, the Vampire
slammed the blades into the man's temples, and then
withdrew them quickly. The dead patron tumbled off
the barstool, onto the floor. Jerard looked down at
him, then back up at the bartender, whose mouth was
hanging open. Slowly his gaping hole closed, and a
sly grin crept onto his face.
The Vampire leaned over and wiped the blades off on
the back of the man and slid them back into their
sheaths. He then spoke to the crumpled body on the
floor. "Hmmm," he said, with a smirk on his face,
"Sneaking up on someone and stabbing them..." His
face then made a mock surprised expression as he
said, "Oops! I guess I really don't have any honor."
The smirk returned and he continued, "Then again, I
guess you'll never know you proved your point, ass!"
His voice rose in volume as he spoke, the last word
was shouted in anger.
The Vampire kicked the body out of the way, and sat
down on the barstool. He turned to the bartender and
snapped, "Stupid fucking humans." The man across the
counter nodded. Jerard grumbled something inaudible
under his breath and grit his teeth. He shook his
head violently to clear his mind and snapped his
head back to face the bartender. "One bottle of
bloodwyne, Lycan," he growled, and slapped two
silver coins on the counter. "And keep the change,"
he added. The bartender nodded and said, "Coming
right up," returning in moments with the bloodwyne
and a goblet.
The Vampire snatched the bottle and glass up off the
bar and stomped to a table in a darkened corner of
the pub to make short work of it.
|
 |
