Rare Blood

Chapter Thirty-Five: No Mercy

Cyrus made his way to New York moving as fast as he could because every mile he put between him and Faye had him ready to turn back. He felt like he was stretching a rubber band that maybe had a millimeter of elasticity left.  When it snapped he was going to lose the will to keep going. The feeling was bizarre, but he knew it was beyond reasoning so he tried to keep his focus on Richard and what he was going to find.

He needed to know what the man was up. He was on a quest for knowledge, and knowledge is power.  That's what kept him moving though it went against everything in him.

When he finally made it to New York, he went straight to Richard's home. The lights were out and no one was there. Cyrus broke in and searched around, but he found nothing of consequence. He decided to go to Richard's office instead of waiting for him to return. Cyrus knew he was a workaholic and with it being a weekday he figured there was a good chance he would find him there.

He didn't approach the building right away, he wanted to check how many cars were in the lot and he planed to watch for a few minutes to see how many people were coming and going. He stood in a deeply shadowed cluster of trees that overlooked the well lit parking lot and scanned the cars, which to his delight were few and far in between. He spotted a newer model red BMW with a vanity tag that read: RLC ESQ.

"Gottcha," Cyrus said aloud and found he couldn't hold off any longer. He headed for the double glass doors of the main lobby moving too quickly for anyone to see more than a blur. He yanked the doors open expecting to have to bust a lock with it being after hours, but the doors weren't locked. The extra force he put into opening them, caused them to swing shut behind him with a rather loud clank. Oops. He scanned the space for potential witnesses. There were none, and aside from a single heartbeat coming from the accounting office off to the side, he was positive no one else with a pulse was even on that floor.

He dipped quickly and silently from the professional looking lobby into a sterile looking stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.  He knew Richard's office was on the fourth floor, but where on the fourth floor was a question. He stood at the metal door separating the office space from the stairwell before opening it, listening for the thumping sound that marked a life. He heard only one; there was nothing standing in his way. He was free to proceed however necessary.

He opened the door silently and saw light spilling out of an open door down the hall past an empty reception desk. He could hear shuffling papers as he approached and the closer he got something else became apparent... He inhaled deeply to be certain, and sure enough, the stench of Roxanne's pricey perfume was lingering and mingling with the scent of transformed blood, the scent of a Vampire. His fangs dropped like daggers and the word traitor bounced around in his brain like a grenade with its pin out.

He stalked forward seeing red, but pulled up just before entering the office. 

Hold on now, he thought. He had to get a hold of himself. If he rushed in there and did something rash he might regret it, and how would he explain it to Faye? 

It was entirely possible Richard requested a meeting so he could tell Cyrus, face to face, that he had been approached. It was unlikely, but he had to know before he acted.

He swallowed down his anger, and when his fangs were hidden once more, he turned the corner standing in the doorframe silently facing an older and rounder Richard.  His hair was whiter, but he was wearing the same thin gold rimmed glasses that Cyrus remembered.  He was seated behind his desk reading over a document that had him totally engrossed. It took a minute for Richard to realize he was not alone. When he glanced up seeing Cyrus, leaning against the door he did a double take before jumping to his feet screeching, "What are you doing in here?"