CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kyle pushed and elbowed his way through the thick crowd inside Shakespeare's Globe theater.
He had stood there for hours, on the outskirts, throughout the interminably long play, waiting for his chance. Romeo and Juliet. What terrible stuff. He had despised every word, stupid stuff of poetry, a waste of his precious time. The only parts he had liked were watching Romeo and Juliet die. He only wished they had died right away. Too bad he, Kyle, wasn't a playwright, he thought - he could teach Shakespeare a thing or two.
But he wasn't there for such trivial matters. He was here for business, real business. He had been waiting forever for the play to end and the crowd to disperse. Vampire poison deep in his pocket, he had been relentlessly tracking Caitlin, and her entire crew, ever since they had arrived. He'd watched their every move, had watched them watching the play, and had bided his time.
He was proud of himself. This was the new Kyle. No longer did he waste precious energy by confronting them head on. He had learned his lesson enough times. Now, he was fighting a new way. With stealth and treachery. Poison was a trusted device, and it was time to try something new.
But he had to get as close to them as he could, and he had to wait until they had a drink in hand.
In the meantime, he had stood there, waiting forever. At least he had made himself useful: throughout the play, he had drifted along the outskirts, releasing dozens of more rats, and packages of fleas, setting them free all throughout the audience. At least, when he left this place, thousands more humans would be infected with the plague. He smiled at the thought: he had brought down the bearbaiting ring with fire, and he would bring down Shakespeare's theater with a simple little flea.
Finally, the play ended and the crowd dispersed, and Kyle had followed Caitlin, keeping a good distance. He followed as they'd crossed the street, and entered that tavern. He waited a good time, so that they wouldn't sense they were being followed, knowing that the thick crowds would dilute their psychic ability.
Finally, Kyle felt the moment was right, and he slipped into the bar. Wearing a cloak and hood, pulled tight over his face, he slipped between the crowd, creeping towards Caitlin's table. He saw her sitting there, next to all of her stupid little friends. He wanted to kill them all, and he would if he could.
But this time, he forced himself to stay focused. He clutched the poison vial in his hand, using his sleeve to hold it, determined to kill her for good this time.
Kyle crept behind Caitlin, and just as he did, a strange woman, who introduced herself as Violet, appeared at the head of the table. Kyle got lucky: he hadn't planned for this, and it was the perfect distraction.
He moved quick. When everyone was looking away, he quickly emptied the vial of poison into her drink. Then he slipped out of there, thrilled that it had gone so smoothly.
In just minutes, Caitlin would drink. And when she did, she would be dead within days - if not hours. It would be a cruel, agonizing death.
This time, Kyle would leave nothing to chance. He would track them, wherever she went, and watch her final moments in death.