Devil You Know

Thinking.

Elliot Holt was calm and quiet. This terrified everyone around him. Since his return from Morocco, things had been far too calm and quiet. Elliot had simply placed the urn containing what was left of Vincent on his desk and sat, staring at it for days. He hadn’t fed, he hadn’t spoke, he hadn’t moved. No one knew what to do, Elliot Holt was a reactor, he did things, he happened to people. He did not think his actions through and he did not care about consequences; Vincent had been the planner, the thinker.

But Vincent, clearly, was gone. And now Elliot was thinking, he was thinking very carefully. This was exactly what was frightening those close to him. Elliot was dangerous, they all knew that. He was dangerous when he didn’t plan and what they were all wondering now was just how much more dangerous he could be when he did plan. The closest member of his staff, Cassius, stood silently to the right of Elliot’s office door the whole time as his master stared at the urn and thought. As Elliot watched the urn, Cassius watched Elliot, ready for the first indication that action was required. Finally, tonight, his patience was to be rewarded as Elliot suddenly tapped the index finger of his right hand just once on the desk, the nail clicking sharply on the high gloss, waxed finish of the ebony surface.

Cassius stepped his large frame forward; many lifetimes of serving Elliot meant he was confident of how to behave around his master, even in these unusual circumstances. Elliot did not take his icy blue eyes off the urn but lifted his hand and beckoned Cassius closer.

Cassius stood next to Elliot, as broad and muscular as Elliot was tall and lean and listened to his first instruction. He nodded once to indicate his understanding and silently left the room, leaving Elliot to resume his thoughts and continue staring at the urn. Cassius had spent a lot of the time he had been standing in Elliot’s office trying to decide what Elliot may have been planning. He had come up with many ideas in that time but he had been wrong. Vincent had a talent for evil, there had been no denying that, his mind had been thoroughly and beautifully twisted. Elliot had a talent for blind violence, that had always been his forte. But since finding that Vincent had died, something had clearly changed in Elliot, it was as if part of what had made Vincent the vampire he was had been passed to Elliot in that cold room, seeped in death, deep in the Atlas mountains as he had scraped the remains of his oldest and closest companion from the stone floor. Cassius was beginning to get an idea of how much more dangerous Elliot could now be and the realisation planted a cruel and satisfied smile across his face as he exited Elliot’s office.

Just outside the door another vampire was sat, waiting patiently to meet another of Elliot’s needs. At his feet knelt a young woman, her hands bound behind her back and a metal shackle around her neck, attached to a chain the vampire held in his hands. She was well dressed, like an office worker, her glossy, dark hair neatly tied up. Her make-up was perfect, her lips a clichéd full-blooded red. The only indications that she were anything but a financial advisor or lawyer visiting a client were her lack of shoes and the single ladder in her stockings that marred an otherwise perfect outfit. Then there was the glassy eyed stare and, of course, her bindings, which had left red welts and purple bruises on her wrists suggesting that at some point, she had struggled. Closer inspection would have noted her gaunt frame and dry skin under the perfectly applied make-up, clues that would point a medical professional to question if she had eaten or drunk enough for a few days. Looking more closely still, an experienced pathologist may, in a later autopsy, identify the barely visible puncture wound left by a hypodermic needle. This would explain the woman’s current state of compliance and vacant gaze. It was about to be accompanied by a second puncture from another needle, this one having entirely the opposite effect. The woman drew in a long and sudden gasp of air, her eyes widened and her back arched as life and energy returned to her body. The vampire holding her captive stood and pulled hard on the shackle around her neck, forcing her, chocking, to her feet. The woman looked about wildly. She’d been here for days, with no idea what she was waiting for. All she knew was that whatever it was, it would be bad, very bad. She was weak but the drug she had been given had her pulse racing and she began to sweat and struggle as the vampire pushed her towards Elliot’s office door.