The Bitten Assassin

138 Years

Tonight was my 138th anniversary of being in this line of work. Once I was finished here, I'd get to go home and party like every night. I was wearing a black turtle-neck, a gray jacket with a high collar, black gloves, some black jeans, and a pair of brand new converse.

I was perched up in a tree, watching a mother reading a book while her young son kicked a small ball through his yard.

It was a chilly evening, a strong breeze blowing through every now and then. The sky was once again dark, and the stars were splattered above.

The tree and grass below me swayed with the wind, reminding me to stay vigilant.

Tonight was personally one of my favorites.

My target for today was the 5 year old boy laughing and enjoying himself in the safety of his backyard. He was closed in with the chain-linked fence running in a square around the perimeter of his property.

His mother turned a page in her book.

I mean, I'm no parent, but she doesn't seem to be doing her job correctly.

"Mommy!" The boy called out.

"Yes, sweetie?" The mother replied, closing her book on her left pointer finger. The little boy looked up at his mom as his rubber ball rolled over to the fence gate that was propped open on a cement block.

The boy's name was Peter.

Peter Lilern.

"Mommy, can you get me some water, please?" He asked, innocent and blissful. As he began speaking, I turned to dark smoke and drifted silently down towards the fence gate. A little bit of the mist tapped the ball and rolled it farther from the yard.

It tumbled from the fence line and allowed me to sweep it behind the bush a few feet away where I took form out of sight.

"Of course, honey! I'll also grab you a jacket, it's getting colder, don'tcha think?" She replied, sitting the book down and getting to her feet.

"It is! Thanks mommy!"

I had been told he loved playing outside at night.

Lucky for me.

The ones who stay inside are the hardest to get. That requires more action than stealth.

But I enjoy both, so I'll do either willingly.

I took form behind the bush, hidden by the darkness. Luckily, past his fence line was the sidewalk that led beside the street behind his house. It was perfect for my plan.

Peter turned around with a big smile, looked around, then lost the smile. He was confused.

"My ball.." he mumbled. "Oh! The gate!"

He proceeded to stumble through a run as he hurried over to the fence.

Peter grabbed the chains and tried to peek through the shapes and spot his ball. He began to frown and shove on the fence.

I gently pushed his ball away from me and let it roll over the grass and towards the road.

"My ball!" he gasped, standing on his tip-toes to see where it was going.

I silently got up and ran towards the ball, pretending to be a random bystander who wanted to help a kid out.

I heard Peter gasp as I raced into the street and scooped the ball up. My feet were strong on the concrete, not slipping once as I began to run back for the sidewalk.

"Oh! Thank you so much, sir! I got that ball for my birthday!" he exclaimed, reaching his arms up as if he could catch it. I held onto it anyway.

"Oh really? How old are ya'?" I asked, smiling kindly at him. He flopped his hands on his head and swayed his waist as he grinned.

"I'm five!" he threw his hand up, open palmed.

"Woah, you look like you're 12!" I acted surprised, gesturing dramatically in mock-surprise.

"No way!" he giggled and repeatedly shook his head.

"This is your ball, you said?" I asked, holding the rainbow ball up in my hand.

"Yep! Can I have it?"

"Well, I can't really go on your lawn. That's trespassing."

"What's a 'trees passing'?" He asked, struggling to say it even though he was wrong.

"It means I'm not allowed to. It's bad."

"Ohhhh," he nodded repeatedly.

"You can come get it," I shrugged, feeling my heart race faster when I saw the figure of his mom in a window near the back door. She would come back soon.

"Okaaaay!" he sang, walking for the gate.

"Hurry, you don't want your mom getting worried, now do we?" I asked, wishing he was faster.

"You know my mom?" He asked, extremely confused.

IDIOT!

Peter stopped walking as he questioned me, standing in the gate opening.

His mother began opening the back door.

I threw the ball into his yard, distracting him. I sprinted up and grabbed him, ripping him off the ground. He immediately tried screaming, but I slammed a hand over his mouth and tore him towards the bush I had hid behind before.

He thrashed against me, kicked, punched, and pinched me. His little sneakers ripped my jeans and his hands stretched my jacket. He bashed his head against my chest and right shoulder as I extended my fangs.

I shook him violently, trying to get a chance to bite at his neck.

"PETER!?" His mother shouted back in the yard.

Peter squirmed in my grasp before digging his little teeth into my right hand. I jerked him around, stunning him for a second. I held him tightly and bent over, sinking my teeth into his skin.

He tried screaming, but my hand still prevented. A simple squeak peeped out, but I no longer cared.

Weird squeaking and whining came from his throat instead. He was crying.

Definite crying.

The wet streams of tears began to trickle over my hands as I ate away his neck. His feet dug into my upper legs, but I tolerated. He continued to squirm, getting weaker and weaker as time went.

Once I was done, I gently laid his body under the lowest flluff of the bush.

He almost seemed peaceful...

Even with all the blood soaking his clothes and skin.

I escaped around the side of the bush as his mother burst through the gate. She looked up and down the street shouting his name until she turned and silenced once she saw the bush. I turned to smoke and escaped, glancing back with a grin as the mother knelt beside her son.

I was unable to hear what went down, but it probably wasn't pleasant.

At least I didn't have to kill 8 more people that happened to walk by.

And now I was free to return to the castle and party for the rest of the night, like I deserved.