He moved like the light. His Shadow moved behind him of its own accord, stretching itself along walls and peeking into windows. It did love to play and it had been in a frisky mood all night
He knew how it felt. He gave his Shadow a sharp, impatient tug and it fell into line behind him, slinking along the brickwork that formed the walls on either side of him, the alleyway dark and narrow. He made his way towards a pool of light from a street lamp.
“We don’t have time for that now.” Darion Muerte didn’t have time for anything anymore. That was the problem. Darion sighed again.
“I gotta get a new job.” He whispered. Tugging on his Shadow, Darion whistled. Well trained, the Shadow was at attention immediately.
Darion motioned with his hand and let out another soft whistle. Whereas the first one had said wait for instructions, this new whistle said only one thing: Seek and find.
Darion hoped that tonight’s search would be a short one. He was dead on his feet; that was pretty bad, considering who he was. He looked at his watch and wondered if it was too early for a cigarette break.
While his Shadow slinked along the walls, sensing the heat of those inside the buildings, Darion walked further into the pool of light and took out a pack of cigarettes. He really should quit, he thought. But it wouldn’t make any difference now.
He snapped his fingers and a tongue of flame danced on the ball of his thumb. Darion watched it for a moment, a lick of fire that danced blue then red.
Putting his cigarette to the tip of the flame, Darion took a drag and let the smoke out slowly. Closing his eyes, he took another drag and let out a long breath.
Fuck, I’m tired, He thought. “I need a fucking vacation.” He said out loud. “I’d even settle for a night off.”
His skin tensed when he heard the Shadow’s call. It was loud and high pitched. To mortal’s, it would sound like the screech of cats in heat. To him, it was a signal. His Shadow had found a Soul.
Walking with quick steps out of the light, letting the darkness claim him, Darion flicked his cigarette to the pavement where it landed with a shatter of sparks. He didn’t pay attention to where he was going; his feet would lead him to his Shadow. All he had to do was let them.
He had been doing this job for a long time and Darion was tired. He had seen so much death and thought of the last time he had known passion. It had been a long time ago. Death did not deserve passion, only penance.
Darion sighed when the Shadow screeched again, its call shrill and bell like at the same time. Darion quickened his pace and found himself entering a better area of his district, but not by much.
But he had put himself here, asked for this section of town. It was his district now, no matter what he did.
The Shadow screeched again and Darion knew that this time, the call was different. Running now, Darion ran towards his Shadow. He could see it slinking under the window, apparently quivering in fear.
Darion looked at the man that stood in the window and understood the Shadow’s distress immediately. Whereas normal mortal’s could not see Darion or his Shadow, the young man was looking at the Shadow with a curious glance.
And then the man shifted his gaze and looked straight at Darion. Darion’s blood froze. He could feel fear sliding through his body, something he hadn’t experienced in many centuries.
His Shadow looked at the mortal not as if it were about to die; but as if it were something else all together.
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