“Who is this Eddie character?” she asked him after he had concluded his report.
“Eddie is one of the leading drug traffickers. He’s operating from Omonia Square, holed in some old hotel, the owners of which decided one day that they no longer wanted to keep. The locals know it, the police know it, hell even the government knows it, but no one is doing a thing. He has two dozen guards and half the municipal council under his thumb. In fact, we’ve been thinking about giving him a pension at some point, he’s been around forever!” Marcos sounded annoyed. “Anyway, in all probability he’s the one who was keeping tabs on me. I cannot touch him, not on my own, at least. No one from the department would help me…”
He left that sentence hanging in the air and Erica did not disappoint.
“Give me his exact address and I’ll take care of it”, she told him.
She noted the address in her computer, hung up, opened a digital map to make sure she knew where the hotel was and then got up from the couch. She went to the side of the kitchen counter and pulled a small lever underneath it. The entire wooden counter slid backwards, thanks to a hidden mechanism, moving at the same time a part of the marble floor. From within the now open surface appeared a long and wide metal box with a glass lid. It was choke full with guns and the glass sealing it was in fact a bulletproof, unbreakable screen. Erica placed her palm on the glass surface and immediately the screen lit up. Her hand’s outline appeared as the screen was scanning it, while a few seconds later the phrase “Access Granted” was displayed in large green letters and the characteristic clicking sound of a lock disengaging was heard. The mechanism securing the box was located inside the metal casing, so that it couldn’t be tampered with. Erica lifted the glass and perused the guns within. She had in front of her a plethora of melee weapons: silver blades, knives, scimitars, shuriken, daggers and shortswords; along with a small collection of firearms: some automatic pistols, a couple of rifles and plenty of ammo. She picked up two daggers, assessing them. Their sharp surfaces were coated in silver, while the inner blade was forged from steel, providing them with additional durability while keeping the silver’s ability to harm vampires and other supernatural creatures. Their handles were metal, with a thin, almost invisible coat of rubber for extra grip. Only the pommel of the handle was also made of silver, as it wouldn’t come in contact with her hand, burning it.
Erica’s problem during that last year had been her uncertainty as to whether she had inherited all the powers of Naram-Sin. An Ancient could be killed only by specific magically imbued weapons, other than that they had nothing to fear. Erica, however, did not hold the same conviction. A common bullet would not kill her, same as with any other vampire, but a silver one? She had no intention of finding out. She already knew that silver affected her. She went to her closet and picked out a plain black trouser. Next, she selected a pair of high black boots, with a fur edge. She put those one and nestled the daggers inside them. Then, she turned up the fur so as to hide the handles. On a small shelf at the lower part of the closet, there were a couple of bulletproof vests, so she took one, put it on and then covered in under a white turtleneck. She looked a bit chubby this way, but her safety was paramount. Then, from a drawer in the closet she got a necklace which, the moment she touched it, wisps of smoke appeared from her hands and she grimaced in pain. It was silver. It comprised rows of silver pearls, tear-shaped. She put it on and the pain subsided, as it was no longer touching her skin, but her blouse. Then she tied her hair in a bun, securing it with a couple of hairpins. Those weren’t silver, but should she need to pick a lock they would come in handy. She looked herself in a mirror. She really resembled her mother. She smiled lightly, put on her coat and left her apartment. A motorcycle was waiting for her outside the building. She got on, took the keys from her pocket and revved the engine.
She had reached her destination within a few minutes. Omonia was a large circular square, entirely deprived of plants, surrounded by stores and hotels. Despite the fact that it was situated close to the heart of a European capital city, it was teeming with addicts and destitute people. Most hotels had been abandoned, while several of the stores had closed their doors. Few had managed to survive. At the square, half a dozen people were sleeping on benches or on the pavement. Before a locked store, right beneath a post, stood three people close to each other, sharing some stuff between them, possibly stolen loot, along with some sachets containing drugs. Nearby, at the street, before a bus stop, a few people waited nervously for one of the night buses to arrive. Every now and then they glanced around them, half-expecting to be mugged, or worse. Erica drove around the square and continued towards Metaxurgio, a nearby neighborhood infamous for its numerable brothels and turned on the first street there. She had arrived at her destination. A few lights were on inside the old hotel, but its sign, along with many of the bulbs on its exterior were out or broken. The entrance was ajar and some light could be seen from within. Erica drove her bike onto the pavement, turned off the engine and put the keys in her pocket.
She walked in the hotel as if she owned the place. The corridor reeked from the rat droppings and was crawling with bugs. The once red carpet, a sad remnant of a long bygone era, had turned black from the shoeprints on it. Over at the end, lounging around a small table with a lamp on it, were four men. They were playing cards, but the sound of Erica’s booted footsteps made them turn around towards her. Two of them jumped up, but a third one gestured for them to stop.
“If you’re looking to buy, piss off. Now!” he told her in a hard voice.
He had spoken in Greek, as plain as he could.
Erica focused on his mind and listened to his thoughts. He was confused; he had though she was some rich girl looking for a fix. He didn’t know what to do with her, since he couldn’t be certain who might be looking for her the following day, so he went for the simplest solution, turning her away.
“I’m here to see Eddie”, she announced to the men as she kept walking towards them.
One of the men moved towards her and tried to block her way.
“Fuck off!” he told her, raising his arm to slap her.
He didn’t expect that the delicate girl before him would know how to defend herself. He was wrong; Erica grabbed his hand before it could land on her face and twisted it sharply, instantly breaking it. She pulled the man forward, forcing him to lose his balance and drop on his knees. Grabbing his head, she snapped his neck as if it were a twig. His comrades stared at the scene, dumbfounded and caught entirely by surprise but, following that initial shock, charged her. Erica stopped the quickest of them with a hefty kick on the diaphragm, right between the stomach and the lungs. The man fell backwards as if he had been hit by a car, the air escaping from his lungs, unable to draw breath. The remaining two drew their knives and tried to stab her, but Erica proved faster than them. She avoided both attacks and, grabbing their arms, she quickly broke them, forcing them to drop their weapons. She grabbed the knives in mid-air and with lightning speed she used them to slit their throats. She approached the man who, still on the floor, was struggling to recover and, landing another kick on his diaphragm, made sure he would not draw breath, ever again.
She walked past the small table and climbed the stairs at the end of the corridor. She could hear shouting from upstairs, her intrusion had been detected and some men were running towards her. At the landing a young man, armed with an automatic pistol, caught up with her. He trained it towards her but didn’t get the chance to shoot. Erica kicked it off his hands and grabbed him by the neck.
“Where is Eddie?” she whispered in his ears, while squeezing his neck.
The body of the young man was twitching as he was trying to breathe and barely managed to whisper the location of his boss. He was on the fourth floor, in the suites. Erica thanked him but, instead of letting him go, she squeezed his neck even harder, crushing his trachea. She glanced around her. There were many rooms on this floor, most of them empty. However, female heads c
ould be seen peeking out, scared, their eyes unfocused and blurry, pumped full of drugs. It would appear that Marcos had gotten a solid lead. The women standing in front of her were victims of human trafficking, with the best of them reserved for the pleasure of wealthy clients. She had no time to help them but what she had in mind would be rather better. She continued climbing the stairs towards the fourth floor, where the mastermind of this whole operation could be found. Employing her superior senses, she was able to hear all the other thugs converging on the floor where she, too, was heading. Amongst them she could sense another presence, altogether different.
This time she was greeted by a veritable hail of bullets. Five armed men had taken positions before the main suite of the hotel, all carrying automatic rifles and pistols. Erica felt her blood boiling in her veins and the world around her was consumed by shadows. A veil of intense cold engulfed her, but it didn’t bother her. Fractions of a second later the shadows dissolved and she materialized behind the five men firing at her, having evaded each and every bullet. Completely surprised, the men tried to turn around, but it was too late. She disarmed one of them with ease and shot them all dead, one by one with the pistol she had taken. She turned around as their lifeless bodies were crumbling to the floor. Before her was a suite. She closed her eyes and let her senses free. She could hear everything: the water flowing inside the rusted pipes of the hotel, the bedbugs crawling about the filthy mattresses, the cries of the women held captive on the floors below, even the blood seeping out of the corpses behind her. Most importantly, she could hear all those inside the suite before her and pinpoint their exact locations. Keeping up the same level of concentration, she opened the door and shot towards the room twelve times. Moments later, twelve men were dropping dead. Only one was spared, the person sitting behind a desk at the far end of the suite. Erica shot him a contemptuous look.
“Are you the one they call Eddie?” she asked.
The man before her looked at her furiously, growled, barring his sharp canines and lunged at her.
Marcos was sitting behind the wheel of his car, looking at the cell phone he held in his hands. He placed the device on the passenger’s seat, made to turn on the engine, but changed his mind. He glanced again at the phone but was uncertain what to do. He was tired, sleepy and, most importantly, wanted to forget this whole business. Eventually, he turned on the car and slowly drove towards his place. He looked at his apartment from inside his car, struggled with his conscience some more and finally decided on what he really wanted to do. Stepping on the gas, he headed towards Omonia. He couldn’t be sure of what Erica planned to do, whether she would send some of her men to deal with Eddie or find some other way to threaten the man, but something inside told him that he had to be there. He arrived a short while later, parked his car some way from the square and set on foot towards the hotel. Along the way, he noticed that the beggars and the junkies around the square seemed upset. His heart clamped inside his chest, as he was wondering whether he had arrived too late. He quickened his pace.
Suddenly, a hand shot out of nowhere, moving towards his arm. His reflexes triggered, grabbing the man who had touched him, forcing him to lose his grip and the next moment had him headlocked.
“Easy, man! Don’t go there, we heard gunshots!” said the stunned man who had touched him on the arm.
Marcos took a better look at him, realized he was a common junkie and let him go. A second later he realized what the man had told him, drew his pistol and rushed in the hotel, while with his free arm he was calling for backup on his cell phone.
Eddie, who apart from being a drug dealer was also a vampire, launched a furious attack. His fists found empty air over her head, as Erica returned the blows, connecting with his stomach. The vampire before her grimaced in pain but kept up his attack. He threw out his arm sharply, grazing her on the face with his nails. And yet, the scratches healed almost instantly. Bristling, Erica grabbed him by the head and slammed it against the wall next to her with ease. Eddie’s head cracked and blood covered his face. Panic washed over him and his next blows were even clumsier. He tried kicking at her, but Erica had little trouble avoiding his attempts.
The wounds on his head were beginning to heal and he backtracked quickly, hoping to avoid Erica and give himself some space to heal completely.
“What do you want? Why are you here?” he asked.
Erica made no effort to hide her disgust and did not respond. Slowly, she walked towards him while Eddie, thinking he had enough time, brought his hand behind his back and pulled his gun. He blinked for a second and the young girl who had killed all his men was no longer there. The very next instant he felt a flaming lance piercing his waist, right through his spine. A searing pain consumed him, making him scream like never before. Erica had gotten behind him, holding in her hand one of her silver daggers. Her weapon had been stuck in Eddie’s body up to the hilt and the wound was smoking as if on fire.
“In case you’re wondering, I’ve shattered your spine with silver. While the dagger remains inside of you, you are unable to move, let alone heal. I just want one thing from you, understand?” she told him coldly.
Eddie had been screaming all the while, but he had managed to hear her. Panicking, he nodded. Erica let him fall to the floor, but the dagger was still stuck in him. While her victim was raked by spasms, she picked up his gun from the floor. She took out the clip and checked the bullets. They were not silver, he had tried to shoot at her merely to buy some time.
She pulled the dagger from his body and wiped it clean on his shirt. The spams subsided and Eddie sighed with relief.
“Where is your boss?”
Erica’s question had returned that terrified look on his face. The vampire tried to resist, but the second he shook his head the dagger found its way back inside his body, this time mere inches from his heart.
“You know, while I was human, I had been taught how to torture vampires. Grizzly stuff, the Order always preferred merciful killings, but the knights themselves had told us that sometime such techniques were required in order to help loosen your tongues. The most effective one in their opinion was the famed ‘Bleeding Heart’. Basically, you stick a pointy silver weapon next to the vampire’s heart. Then you ask them your question and should they lie to you or refuse to respond, all you have to do is slide the blade slightly towards the heart. Like this”, she said, and her hand moved almost imperceptibly.
Eddie felt blinded by pain. His body was once again raked by spasms and parts of it started disintegrating, turning to ashes. Erica allowed him to scream freely and a while later returned the blade to its original position.
“Where is your boss?” asked again.
Her victim, despite the pain he had experienced, hesitated for a second. Sighing, Erica touched once more the blade on his heart. She prolonged his suffering, this time round. His eyes dissolved before her and several parts of his body turned to dust. She only pulled the dagger out when she felt he was teetering on the brink of death. She removed it completely and held it in her hand. Immediately, the unholy nature of the vampires began restoring the damage the weapon had caused.
“So, should we go for round three?” she said, cruelly.
“The catacombs, at the Garden Palace! He’s asleep! Mercy!” screamed Eddie and Erica granted him that final wish.
She turned the dagger in her hand and slammed it right on the vampire’s heart.
Eddie instantly turned to dust. Erica placed the dagger once more inside her boot, stood up and made to leave. Only then did she see him. Marcos was standing at the door of the suite. With a look of sheer terror, he was holding his gun, pointing it at her.
Both just stood there, motionless like two statues, staring at each other. Marcos was unable to utter a single word; he could do nothing but stare. Cold sweat was running down his face as he was gripping his gun. She had seen Erica torture someone, or rather something inside a room strewn with dead bodies. The drug trafficker, who was all too well kno
wn to the authorities, was now a pile of dust on the floor and Marcos struggled to make some sense out of what he had just seen. He knew what all this meant, he wasn’t daft, and that’s what made the whole thing even scarier.
Erica’s first thought was to kill him. Although the policeman could still prove useful, she could always find someone else to serve her purposes, someone who didn’t know the truth about her. And yet, as she was looking at him, a desire to keep him alive stirred inside her. He resembled the knights of her Order. He was tall, with dark hair, fairly fit and his stance spoke of a man with some experience in martial arts. His blue eyes were pinned on her; they were intelligent. She knew at that moment that Marcos was analyzing the situation. Using her powers, she easily entered his mind in order to read his thoughts at that very moment. They were rather chaotic. He was thinking about all that he had witnessed, what it meant and at the same time recalling from his memory all the books he had read and the movies he had seen about vampires. He was looking for a way to defend himself. However, there was something else there too, a thought completely different from the others, which caught Erica by surprise. He had been thinking that, finally, someone had killed Eddie.
“You are not bothered by the fact he wasn’t put on trial?” she asked and saw his own surprise.
That changed quickly, for the policeman realized that she was reading his thoughts.
“He got exactly what he had been selling to his customers. I doubt that’s the reason you killed him, though. Tell me, what is it that you got by killing him. His business? Money?” he asked, annoyed.
Erica was still inside his mind, but his thoughts were becoming harder to read. He was getting angrier at her and Erica tried to respond. And yet, her instincts were tingling worryingly.
She heard the sirens of the patrol cars way before he did. Marcos had called the police. She was certain of this, because under normal circumstances the authorities would simply disregard a distress call by some local, concerning their location’s reputation. With incredible speed, she got right next to him, disarmed him and grabbed him by the coat.