The Contract

Chapter 7

The necklace in his fist, Dante pushed open the door to a rotten, molded apartment that reeked of death and animals' excrements. He didn't let the scent bother him and entered without even greeting the person inside. Shin was drinking blood from some girl that looked like she actually enjoyed being his prey. Grumpily, Dante threw the necklace and a piece of Yuki's jacket before the vampire's feet. Shin looked up and let go of the girl. Then he examined the things the demon had thrown at him.

„Yuki's?", he asked. Dante nodded. Ignoring the girl who pulled at his arm and begging him to continue, Shin stood up and sniffed the necklace.

„What's with her?"

„She's missing since two days now. I found that where I woke up; in the middle of the woods a few miles from here", Dante explained and watched Shin's expression change from indifferent to worried. Why exactly that vampire cared about Yuki, he didn't know, but he was indeed valuable. He knew a lot about underground organizations and stuff like that.

„And you were unable to find traces of the people who kidnapped her? Such an incompetent demon", Shin said and handed back the necklace. He kept the piece of fabric.

„I know who could have kidnapped her. And I know someone who knows their hideout."

It was dark. So dark I couldn't even see the door or the walls. They – whoever they were – waited for me to talk about Dane's appearance and hideout. Were they enemies of his? No, they didn't know him, that was the reason I was there.

„I won't talk", I told the cameras in every corner of the room. It didn't even take ten seconds until the door opened and dazzled me with the light from outside. Against my expectations, it was neither the woman nor Dante entering the room. No, it was completely different and so terrible I had to close my eyes for a second. It was my father. The person who had let me suffer for years when I had been a child. I would recognize him anytime; his ash blonde hair and his beard. He had shaved himself maybe once a week back then, when he had been alive. Right, he was dead. There was no way for him to stand there, his big hands folded like always, a cigarette between his fingers. I could clearly smell it. But his eyes were different. They were not my father's. They were his. Blue. Cold, like they wanted to eat my soul to warm up. And as hungry as eleven years ago.

„Hello dear. I've missed you", he said with my father's voice. I knew he wasn't real. He was just another imagination. Maybe that woman had drugged me again, how ever she had done it before. That person was not my father! Still, my stomach was about to empty itself. I wanted to vomit and rip out the memories he had left behind of the things he had done to me and my mother.

„Aren't you going to greet your own father? That's cruel, you know", he said and smiled his usual smile. Everything except for his eyes was exactly like then.

„Who of us is the cruel one? This is fake", I said and closed my eyes. His steps echoed loudly until I could feel his presence close, beside my head.

„Fake, but effective, isn't it, sweetheart?" His voice was near my ear. I held my breath and tried not to smell the scent of his cigarette. A burning ache in my belly let me moan and open my eyes again. He held his cigarette onto my skin!

„As if I hadn't enough scars already", I muttered and endured the agony as good as possible. Still, my breath went faster and my heart pounded too hard for me to calm down. So many of my scars were his fault. No, not his. He was not my father. The pain was eased when the cigarette stopped glowing and went out completely. My belly bled slightly and there was more ash inside the wound than I thought.

„They make you beautiful, sweetheart. Come, show me your sweet, scarred skin, just like then. Don't you want to make your Daddy happy?", he asked and pushed up the seam of my skirt, uncovering my thighs and panties.