The Bitten Assassin

Alastor Marchell

I woke up that evening after a long, sunny morning of partying for my anniversary. The sun was always going down at this time during this part of the year.

Certain parts of the world either had longer days or longer nights. I was told in advance over what time zone it was for the location I would be assigned.

I wake up at this time everyday.

9 P.M.

I was bundled tightly in blankets since I had never enjoyed the usual position vampires had grown accustomed to.

Crossing my arms over my chest and laying flat on my back in dress clothes just didn't make my night.

Luckily nobody watched me sleep, so it hadn't been an adressed issue just yet.

I felt unusually groggy this morning, struggling to wake up for work.

Normally, I was out of bed in under a minute.

Something felt different since the party.

Not in a bad way, just that... I clearly drank too much.

Who could blame me!? I mean, really!? The party had been supplied with the rarest blood from Italy.

It's not everyday one gets to endulge thyself with such a recherché supply of this particular substance.

I finally forced myself to sit up, groaning as I did so.

My hands immediately went to my eyes which I rubbed vigorously, determined to make myself fully wake up.

I threw the warm, thick blankets off and kicked my legs over the side of my bed.

I was young for being in this career for so long, but my father had forced me into it.

When I was growing up, he was angry that I was uncertain with what I wanted to acheive when I was older. He proceeded to do some dirty work without the people he ruled knowing, therefore getting me a secret job under the eyes of everyone we knew.

People in our land simply request a certain one of the mortals to die, and their wish is granted. Of course they have to have a reason, but most things pass in the department.

When I get informed about who I was assigned to every night, they gave me all the details and answered anything I asked.

They'd explain the figure's relatives, work hours, old homes, places they might be, their current address, reason to be killed, and various other things I find useful when hunting them down.

Normally, people hired here had to work hard to prove themselves, but they saw something different with me (besides the fact that Vlad was my father) and gave me the jobs every night.

One first hired might get 3 or 4 jobs a month, but builds up over the months and years.

Nobody was really close to getting as frequent as me, but I wasn't complaining.

I enjoyed attention and people telling me what a good job I did.

Standing up, I pulled the black turtle-neck off that I had worn the night before. I wrinkled my nose, thinking about how drunk I had to have been.

I had clearly had too much of the blood, then literally passed out in my work clothes.

I had never fallen asleep with the victim's blood still on me...

But there's a first time for everything, I suppose.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door as I tossed the shirt aside.