1
Jase
Icaught a glimpse of myself in the building window as I climbed out of the Lyft. Dark hair, tousled for that just so look, a bit of artistic dark stubble about my jaw, dark suit suitable for the venue I was about to enter. I’m good-looking enough to not cause people to turn away but not handsome enough to cause gazes to linger, either. It’s a useful trait to have in my current profession. I paid the driver, adding on a modest tip. Neither so small nor so large that the guy’d remember me out of his multiple fares as someone who stood out.
I went in, ignoring the buzz of activity from the revelers who are here to celebrate whatever it is they are celebrating. A birthday, I saw as the elevator doors opened and I spotted a VIP area littered with foil balloons. From the number of them bearing Tinkerbell’s image, I guessed one of the local society princesses was about to hold court with her college-friend minions. I wasn’t here for any of them, so I discounted that part of the club quickly.
I tugged on my left shirt cuff, pulling it down from where it rode up. It felt odd not having my watch on, but while out on the job, I do my best to keep personally identifying bits to a minimum. Tonight was all about checking the intel. I needed to verify that my perch, chosen via satellite imagery, is indeed the best and that my weapon was delivered and hidden as requested. I can’t merely stalk through the back and make for the service door that leads out into the rear halls where the entrance to the roof awaits. No, first, I have to set myself up as just yet another customer.
After I ordered a drink, I headed to the men’s room. I exited from there, danced a bit, then ordered a couple more drinks and a tapas plate that seemed to be the most popular item on the menu food-wise. Then it was back onto the dance floor, losing myself in the crowd, dancing with whoever happens to approach me. There was this one guy, lovely as hell, who kept looking at me. It’s unnerving. I didn’t recognize him, but that’s not the problem. He’s memorized my face and clothes. I know, because every time I turned around, his eyes were on me. Damn it, I did’ t want to have to abort this assignment.
I have never, ever had to abort a mission, and I didn’t intend to now. When the singing started in the VIP area, I spotted him there, in the crowd. I found my assumptions about the group challenged when I realized that he’s the birthday boy, not a girl. Not that it mattered, except now his attention was once more focused on his friends and whatever gifts they were about to shower him with. It all seemed to keep him occupied from that point forward, so I breathed a bit easier. He’s here for his party and is unlikely to be here tomorrow. I hoped not, anyway, because if he is and sees me, I might catch his eye again. If that happens, I’ll have to hook up with some random clubber, most likely a girl, and buy her a lot of drinks until I can pour her into a cab. That usually works, as seeing my attention elsewhere, they typically find someone else. Someone much more attractive.
With his ethereal looks, I’m not sure why he’d look at me, Mr. Average, anyway. Hell, my suit is average, too. It’s smart, but off the rack, and it’s evident that it’s a polyester blend. Not like him and his group of friends. You could see the dollar signs wafting over their heads. Silk and wool and hundreds of dollars an ounce perfume and colognes. The cosmetic bag belonging to just one of those girls was probably filled with makeup. Brands cost almost as much as my fee for this job. Not that I was jealous. It is what it is.
The bar called for last orders at last, and the DJ started the last song of the night. I headed off to the men’s room to avoid the crush of the now small crowd as they left. Hearing the music come to an end, I exited the toilets and started edging my way towards the rear. No one paid me any mind as they are busy clearing up glasses and ushering people out of doors and calling for cabs for those insisting they can’t possibly call themselves an Uber or Lyft because of the perceived dangers. When one of the clubbers got nasty and took a swing at the bouncer who is taking his keys, I slipped through the staff door and hurried through to the one that let me out into the hall. From there, I took the stairs, reaching into my pocket for the set of house keys there. They weren’t mine. They’re random keys attached to a fob from some local used car dealership. All except one. That one is the key for the door to the roof.
I reached the door and fitted the key. So far, so good. It fit, and I heard the click of the lock as it unlatched. The door swung open to reveal a fairly typical roof for this sort of building. I’ve seen dozens of these places in cities scattered across the globe. I spotted a tarpaulin with the shape of work tools and air conditioner parts under them, just as I’ve been instructed. From the state of the tarp, it had been here for quite some time. Peering underneath, I could see a rusting toolbox, the metal kind made for carrying, and what looks like compressor parts. They’re rusting, but they are not why I’m here, so I don’t care. All they tell me is that no one has been out here for ages and so it’s unlikely anyone will come up here before tomorrow and decide to use the things under the tarp. This matters because also nestled under the tarp is the case for the rifle I requested to be placed here, the bullets for it, and the tripod. So is the sleeping bag, which, when I’m done with it, will be tossed down into the alley behind this building. I’ll go down and take it with me, along with my spent shell casings. My DNA will be all over it, so it has to go.
I took them out and looked them over. Everything was just as it should be. Now to check the view. I walked over to the roof edge, lifting my sight scope. Five blocks away, I could see the restaurant where my target is due to arrive for his anniversary dinner tomorrow night. I felt a moment’s pity for the man’s wife, but it’s fleeting. I only take the jobs where I know they’re a genuinely bad guy. His wife isn’t my concern, and if I overthink about the people affected, I’ll be haunted by them for the rest of my life. Fuck that shit.
The door creaked. I spun around, cursing. The rifle’s not loaded yet, so I’ll have to dispatch whoever this is. My eyes widened as I spotted the stunning young man from earlier. What the fuck was he doing here? And how did he get in? I made sure to close the door behind me, and it locks automatically upon closing. These thoughts whirled through my head all at once while my body was already in motion. I was across the roof and swinging the rifle to hit him. Only I don’t. It was me that went down as a feeling of seeping cold and lethargy swept through my limbs, rendering them useless. I went down, hard, my rifle tumbling from my suddenly uncooperative hands.
The young man smiled and leaned over me. “The Ghost, I presume? So glad to meet you.” He scratched his neck with a long, delicate finger. “I’m afraid I brought you here under false pretenses.”
Wait. This is my employer? What the hell did he do to me? Did he paint the stock with a neurotoxin of some kind? I snarled at him, trying to get the words out. It’s no good. The ice has spread to my neck and face, leaving me worse than the time I went to the dentist as a kid, and they accidentally injected my tongue instead of my gums.
He dropped his hand from his neck, stretching it out to me as he bent closer. Caressing my jaw, he said, “You’re not as unattractive as I’d imagined.”
Um, thanks? I thought sarcastically.
He gave me a winning smile, showing his teeth. His pointed teeth. Not like a vampire’s, no. His two front teeth on the top and bottom looked more or less normal until you noticed the serrated edges. The teeth next to them, those were like canines, one short and one longer, one either side of the top row. The bottom row had short ones. All were pointy and wickedly sharp. That’s when I noticed his ears. They were pointy, too. And his eyes, a beautiful blue, alright, but the pupils were not round. They’re oval, with the narrow end at the top and bottom. They are also not black. As he leaned ever closer, I wondered how no one in the club, including me, noticed how odd this man was. I was busy staring at the galaxies I could see within his eyes, stars and nebulas within the darkness of his pupils, while the blue shimmered like a pale piece of aquamarine. I fell into the sea of stars.
