Another day, another pack of cigarettes.

Goddammit.

I walked out of the corner store while keeping an eye on some stray dogs eating garbage, chewing over what Morris had told me. How could Liz pull a job after what I did to her? She'd been hurt pretty bad, as far as I could tell. Maybe I didn't hurt her so much; I was pretty out of it when it all went down. Her foot might have been fine, and her eye might have gotten better in a day. Still, that was a bit of a stretch. On top of that, Morris didn't seem all that reliable. He had at the time, but I was pretty drunk at that moment. Then again, what he said was so crazy that it fit right with the crazy nonsense I was wrapped up in. I ignored what I read for the sake of my own sanity. It wasn't much to go on, but it was enough for me. I sighed and scratched my head. I was really going to break into a mansion on a piece of crap that I had pulled from a drunk man's gullet, and I had done it while I was drunk. It was a hell of a bet for a no-luck loser like myself to make.

I went to a hardware store. I picked up a crowbar, hammer, needle-nose pliers, regular pliers, a pair of flat-head and Phillips head screwdrivers, a bag to put them in that slung over my shoulder and would keep them tight to me, light sneaker shaped steel-toe boots, and a navy blue mechanic's suit. There were other odds and ends I might find useful, too many to name. I just smiled at the two men as I paid. They didn't make anything of it. Of course they wouldn't, and they never would.

I grabbed some rags in a thrift store, and stuffed my bag with them, so the tools wouldn't rattle and make any noise. I then bought a train ticket heading up north.

===+++===

The train smelled like piss. I practically ran off of it at the transfer point, and went to a diner and bar. It wasn't too hard to find; they had set up shop in plain view of the meager station, which really wasn't much of anything except an awing in front of a parking lot that had probably been dirt until fifteen years ago. The town was mostly old-looking and tired houses that would have been old-looking and tired to war-weary militia men during the Revolution. There was only one main drag dotted with shops, and a few of them were big east coast franchises, and maybe one or two national ones. The cop cars had a cheesy look to them, a generic design that made them look like playthings for boys in the nineties, complete with the word "POLICE" slapped on their sides. There weren't many people making use of the sidewalk, and there were probably more that never even used it, even right there in town. They still had streetlamps set up though, all vintage looking as hell to make the town look quaint. Some banners hung off them, the kind of banners you see hanging in every podink town just outside the city. I wondered how impressive it looked to all the people speeding through town.

I only had so much cash left, so I bought a meager meal of water and bacon, lettuce and tomato on wheat bread. I took my time eating it so it would feel like more than it was. The T.V was on, and I really didn't pay attention to it until I heard something about a murder of a former burglar. I turned to watch, and saw that Quint Morris, aged 22, had been murdered. That Morris was the same as my Morris. They had a picture of him smiling with his arm around a girl, looking carefree and healthy. All you could see of the girl was her shoulder and wavy blonde hair. The reporter went on about how Morris at first seemed to have killed himself, but after some investigation, it seemed unlikely. Mr. Morris had several stab wounds in his neck, and it seemed there was some severe blood-loss. On him, they found some fliers for some bar or another—whose name was being kept from the press at the moment— advertising some kind of event. He also had a pack of matches from said bar and a glass. Enough of Morris had made it to the ground that the police were actually able to see the wounds on him. It was a miracle no cars on the then busy road-way had run over the remains. All this might point to murder, the reporter said, being that said bar was suspected of being not only linked but funded by "criminals." She said it just like that, "criminals." It made her sound like a kindergarten teacher. Morris had several problems with the club (oh, so now it was a club. Friggin' news...) and even violent skirmishes with the staff. I kept waiting for them to spill the name of the club, but they didn't slip up once. The police were apparently investigating whether this murder was about a grudge from someone at the club or someone who Morris wronged in the past. My money was on both.

The news then went on about the weather, so I stopped caring. Stupid, really, I should have paid attention, but I found my empty plate suddenly more interesting. There wouldn't be any rain delays for me, anyway. I must have been staring at it for a while, because I had to be poked on the shoulder before I even noticed the waiter. He asked me if I wanted anything, and I said I wanted a Johnny Walker. He came back with it pretty quick, and was turning to leave when I asked if there was a place I could pour it out. He looked all sorts of angry, but he kept it out of his voice when he asked if something was wrong. I then smiled and told him the drink wasn't for me, but for someone I knew who had died. He seemed taken aback, but I accepted his apology and said it was no big deal, how could he know? He then led me to an employee area with a sink (going outside with a drink is illegal in this state, and the cops didn't have much to do), and I poured it out, thanked him, and gave him as decent enough of a tip that I could afford to.

By the time all that was over, the transfer train pulled in. I waded back into the smell, and slept until I hit my destination.

===+++===

I hadn't been that far upstate in a while. I say upstate, but keep in mind, I was only a few hours outside of the city. The real upstate has a view of Canada from its backyard. Still, there were more trees than people, so it was a bit of a shock. The air was a bit fresher, but the train and highway ruined it a bit. Earlier in the day, I had sketched out some directions to the manor where Liz was based off what Morris gave me. I had no choice but to walk. Hopefully, people would be fooled and think I was just some wayward repair man en-route to his truck.

I turned over plans in my head, but eventually stopped. I didn't have a plan. I didn't even know what the place looked like. I was still going there all the same. Stupid, really, about as stupid as this whole situation. But all my money was pretty much gone, and that had been all in one day. I started to realize that I never really had a choice in the matter. Run away, find a job... the hell was I thinking. I wouldn't even be able to feed myself past a few days. Maybe they'd find me, maybe not. Maybe I would have just starved to death.

It was plenty dark when I got close enough. I climbed a tree, and looked down at the manor. The place was huge. I had no idea as to how I was to find anything in there. It was two stories. It was not very wide, but it was quite long, and nestled in a remote area, surrounded by forest. The road had no other houses on it what-so-ever, and was far removed from the town. I was still winded from the walk. I hoped they didn't rig any surveillance on the road, or at least have one guy camping out in the woods who would have saw me. The whole place was surrounded by a huge stone wall. Thankfully, it was topped only with metal spikes that would hurt if you were dumb enough to grab the points. The stretch between the grounds and the manor proper was daunting, though. I'd somehow have to slither across the whole lawn without being noticed. I didn't see any person wandering, and wondered if they were all perched on the roof, sitting a room monitoring cameras, had dogs running around doing the dirty work, or all three. No matter which way you sliced it, I looked plenty fucked. And no matter what, I had to go through with it.

I dropped down, and ran over to the wall. Every so often, there was a sort of square extension or bump before the wall went back to being straight and formidable. I kicked off one of these, surprised myself with my athletic ability, managed to snap out of it, and grab the top of the wall. I pulled myself up and lay prone on the wall, scanning for anyone. There was nothing. I took a few deep breaths, stepped over the spikes, and let myself hang over the ledge, dangling over the lawn.

I looked to my left and saw a camera.

I gasped and dropped. It was a miracle I didn't turn my ankle. I stupidly looked back up at the camera. You know, that way they'd get a good look at my face.

I blinked, unable to comprehend what I was seeing for a second. The lens was smashed, the outer body of the camera was bent out of shape, and wires dangled from it.

It was totally broken.

Long tears in the body looked like some kind of powerful animal clawed it. Worse yet, the wall itself looked like it had been clawed up feverishly, like whatever had done it was in a state of panic.

I swallowed hard and licked my lips. I thought back to what Morris had hinted at: Liz had been caught. Was this her attempt at escape? I shuddered. If something as powerful as her had failed...

I shook my head and dropped to my stomach. I started the slow crawl to the mansion, occasionally looking around. Every time I saw nothing, I felt like an even bigger idiot. I also noticed I was smearing dirt all over my new clothes. A clap of thunder sounded, and I realized I would soon have mud to look forward to. This got me to get up and jog towards the mansion. Eventually, I slowed it to a walk. Either no one noticed me or they were playing a hell of a mean trick.

In few spots towards the front, there were spotlights gleaming off the walls, but not anywhere else. I guessed the owner had some sense of humility. I walked around the mansion, looking for any kind of way in. Careless open window, unguarded (and hopefully un-wired) door, whatever. I did find a door with two guys decked out like SWAT members standing in front of it. They both had sub-machine guns, either MP5's or good mock-ups. I dropped to the ground and snorted. If a 9mm could take out a monster like Liz no wonder I had gotten away. If that was even the right caliber.

I crawled up close enough to them to see that they didn't have helmets and goggles on (which wouldn't make much sense, when I thought about it; how would they see through that shit?), and close enough to hear them talking a bit, albeit quietly.

"So," said the shorter one, "how many did she get?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know."

The smaller one clenched his jaw. "I heard a few got killed..."

"Yep." He cut the smaller guy off easily, trying to look like he didn't care.

The smaller one started to get angry, "Hey, don't blow me off. I heard more than a few of us are dead."

"Sure."

The smaller guy was shaking now, "Sure? Doesn't it bother you that they aren't going to even get a fuckin' funeral? I mean... Jesus. Where'd they even bury them?"

"Stop it. It doesn't do any good to ask questions like that. We know the rules. We're lucky to have enough of us left to even do what we can."

The smaller guy snorted.

The other guy turned on him, and I took the opportunity to slink closer to them, to where I was lying against the wall. The other guy said, "Don't be like that. You knew what you're getting into. So did they. Don't let it get to you. Yeah," he said, raising a hand, "I'm pissed too. But it won't do any good or bring any of them back. We have to keep sharp. She killed all the dogs for Christ's sake. Ripped them clean apart. They only just cleaned up the mess; whatever of the help is still alive, at least. We're short. We only have a few guys around the servants' quarters. Anyone will probably get in through that way. She also smashed up a lot of the cameras and ripped apart the tech-guys. That was an even bigger mess than the friggin' dogs. That still isn't cleaned up. Just be glad it isn't warm out. The flies..."

"Please stop. So no one is manning the security equipment?"

"When she saw what was up, she made it look like she was making a break, after she panicked and smashed a couple of cameras. She was so quick, man. I only saw her for a second. She went right back in and waited until someone went to the security room for an update. She slipped in and tore them up. Didn't even drink them, just ripped them to shreds. Someone put some holes in her, and that weakened her. She got the guy, but made too much noise; she got into a few more fights, but was shot almost to pieces. So now, all we have is us flesh-and-blood guys, whatever is left, so don't fuck around. Got it?"

The smaller guy looked down, "I heard they got Todd..."

"Maybe. They won't tell us the names, I don't know why, and I don't care. Everything is a mess. Us down here can barely tell who made it out alive that night. We'll find out. But until then, don't screw around. They'll be back, and probably soon. We're almost ready to leave here. Until then..."

"Yeah, yeah, 'don't screw around.' Got it."

The smaller guy went through the door, and as he did, I stood up, slipped behind the other guy, and then through the closing door.

I laid down and let the smaller guard wander off to wherever he was supposed to be. I was in a kitchen that was bigger than my whole apartment. Cleaner, too. I waited until the guy left before braving the tiled floors. I found a push door, cracked it slightly, and saw a dining room, and in it a guy decked out in commando gear.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

I slipped back into the kitchen. I took just a second to think about what I just heard. Shot her up? Maybe she wasn't alive. That wouldn't be so bad; I honestly didn't care if she was alive or dead. But if things had gotten that bad when she was caught, there was a good chance that I wasn't going to find what I wanted. They would be way too alert, and on top of that, I hadn't been expecting to see commandos guarding the place. Could I even keep dodging them? I was good, but not that good.

But on the other hand, Liz had torn up the security pretty bad. Horrendously, even. A big number of the guys were dead. It was scary to think that she had that much power, and even worse when I realized how lucky I had been to get away from her in the first place. Christ. If I'd dicked around for second longer, those two might have started to take me seriously. Not as much taunting, not as much walking after me...

Something else bugged me. Maybe it would make sense for them not to say it, but no one had mentioned the fact that her eye was fucked up.

Even worse, the two outside had just talked about she had been shot before she had been taken down.

No more time for thinking. I checked the dining room again. The guy was gone. The push door would make little noise, so I went in that way.

The mansion might have looked impressive during the day, but at night, it looked rather monotonous. But damn, did it try. The walls had wood paneling, the floors were polished, and there were expensive looking drapes on the windows. I figured it would cost six figures just to breathe the air in the place. I didn't know why the lights were off, and didn't care. There were plenty of shadows to slink about in, that's all that mattered. There were a million rooms. I didn't even know what half of them were for. There were guards all about, but plenty of rooms to duck them in.

I tried to pick up what I could from the occasional chatter from the guards. I got a few words on the orb: it was locked away in its own room, you needed to have a key-card and pass code to open its case, and it was guarded by trip lasers. Liz had managed to sneak it out when she was first inside, but now it was back where it belonged. The guards were under-staffed, and they had just gotten word on the mansion owner's son. I didn't quite catch what they said his deal was, but the owner wasn't taking it so good. I felt sorry for the guy. All the guards wanted to get the owner out, but he was staying put for right then. Maybe by the morning he would skip the country and regroup; he had some kind of safe place out in Italy or something.

I figured that the owner would know how to get at the orb in the best way, and maybe even talking with him would help me. Maybe I should have thought of that first, but maybe they would have threw the dogs at me the instant I wandered up to the gate. On top of that, why would he even care about my situation? The hell could I offer him? Maybe he needed a forklift driver. Or a carpenter. I could be a caretaker for free. Or I could just get the orb from him. I'd at least draw the monsters' attention from him. What a nice guy I am.

There was a stairway in the main entrance, and it was crawling with guards on both floors. But it wasn't too hard to find a time when all their backs were turned. I crept up the stairs. I figured that's where his bedroom was, where he could be high in the air and over his servants. At the top of the stairs, I had to slide around a guard who turned to look over the railing. I could have slipped something out of his pocket, it was that close. I kept on going, slowly making my way through the second floor.

I kept my eyes peeled, looking for a room that would have a ton of guards around it, thinking that would be his room. After a tiring fifteen minutes of creeping about, I finally found it. The door was open, and one big guard was back-handing another. There was a group of four around him. I got as close as I would dare, and tried to find out what was going on. The guy that got hit was apologizing for letting the owner out of his sight. My body cooled by at least twenty degrees. I peered around their legs and into the room, but didn't see any blood. The big guy, who I guess was in charge, chewed out the one guard for a few minutes, and then turned to the others. He said they had to find the owner as soon as possible. The owner had left the walkie-talkie that had been given to him on his night-stand. He'd been acting erratically ever since he got the phone call. I didn't know what phone call. I slipped away right after that, being it looked like the big guy was about to break up their meeting.

I wondered how the owner had just disappeared on them like that. The idea was ridiculous; how can you let the guy that signs your checks for protecting him vanish?

Whatever. I started poking into every room, hoping like hell I'd find him first. I could have just hung out near a guard and eaves-dropped on his radio talk, but I didn't feel sprightly enough to pull it off. I'd just have to hope I found the guy first; plus, it'd be easier for me to get what I wanted out of him.

Right before I was going to head downstairs, I heard something slam down the hall. I froze for a moment, cursed myself for doing that, and then ducked into a room, waiting for any guards to run by. I must have waited for five minutes, but no one came. I stuck my head in to the hall, curious, and looked around. No one was about. Right after that, I went down the stairs as quickly as I could without making any noise.

Back on the first floor, I didn't have to be so careful, being that I wasn't running into much of anybody. They must have already cleared the first floor. Wait, then what was I doing here?

I then heard sobs, the sobs of an older man.

I walked up to a set of double doors, and pushed them open a crack. Inside, I saw what appeared to be a library, and an old man in expensive-looking pajamas and a bathrobe was leaning on a desk while standing. The sobs were getting quiet, more like choking sniffles, now. I slipped in, and started to creep on the guy, when he turned to the side. I ducked behind a chair and didn't move. The guy walked over to a bookshelf, not having seen me, and started to pull books off violently, letting them fall to the ground. It made a horrible noise, but he didn't make any himself; he just grunted lightly with his efforts. After ravaging one, he side-stepped and gave another the same treatment. This went on for several minutes, with me flicking glances at the door in a panic and wondering if I should just grab the guy so he'd stop making so much goddamned noise.

The guy then turned and started to walk towards the chair I was behind. I curled up in a standing fetal position behind it, gritting my teeth and wondering how wide my eyes were. The guy spun and flopped into the chair, sliding it backwards slightly with the force of his weight. The chair hit me, and I started to tip over. I went to throw a hand out to brace myself, but realized that would make too much noise. Panicking, I rocked back and forth, trying to get my balance back. I couldn't lean on the chair, he would feel that. Slowly, and carefully, I leaned back. I put my hands behind me, and sat down on the floor softly. My legs screamed at me for stretching them in such a weird way, and for so long; it took me a good minute to get back to my feet.

When I finally did manage to get into a real crouch, I peeked around at the old guy. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the owner, and that phone call must have really screwed him up. He was leaned totally back, with a hand over his eyes, barely making any noise. He didn't look so old, but with how still he was, you could easily think he had just died in that chair. After a moment or two, he pulled his hand from his eyes, and reached another into the pocket of his robe. Out of it came a small sphere, colored blue, that could easily fit in the palm of your hand. We were both transfixed by it. In the center, a very faint light seemed to come from it. It wasn't like the whole thing glowed, but instead there seemed to be this constantly shifting sparkle, like a small star was caught inside of it. The owner held it gingerly, like the slightest pressure could break the orb, turning it over and around, staring at the winking light in the center of it.

"They really want it that bad," he murmured to himself. He then closed his fist on the orb tightly, and I started to get nervous. "I told him," the owner whispered, "I told him, I told him, I... Goddammit!!!"

He suddenly stood, and cocked his arm like a quarter-back. The orb shone threw his fingers. His face was twisted into a snarl, and he was aiming at the wall ahead of him.

I got up too, reaching for him. Uh-uh, no, no, no no no no no no no no...!

His arm went forward, and so did mine. And then it stopped, and so did mine. We were both frozen in that ridiculous pose, with him mid-throw, and me leaning over the chair, teeth-bared in fear, my eyes wild and excited, reaching for his hand.

He slowly turned his head to his hand, and I pulled back my hands, but didn't shoot down behind the chair; the tools would have rattled. Instead, I stepped to the side quietly, staying out of his sight, wondering how stupid I looked.

He turned forward and cradled the orb, looking down at it. "No," he muttered, "I'm not just going to lay down. I won't let them get away with this. It's just not my son, there are many of us. We'll... regroup. And then, we hunt them down. All of them."

He put the orb back in his pocket, and turned towards the door. He sighed, "All this, for such a fragile little thing." I stepped around again, staying behind him.

The owner cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to make the call. No time to stay here, pining like a child." He strode to the doors, I guess heading back upstairs to his room, to get his walkie-talkie and start barking orders. But before he got out, I stepped up, and slipped my hand into his pocket. The robe was loose fitting, and he didn't have it tied shut, so he never noticed my picking the orb from him.

He slammed out the doors, and I stared at the orb. It felt really fragile, as if a good hard look would crack it. I shook my head, and slipped it into a pocket.

Time to leave.

I went back out into the hall, and towards the main entrance. I was wondering if I could just walk right out that way, as there didn't seem to be many people around anymore, when I heard another slam from that way. It sounded really damn close. I gulped, and started to head back to the kitchen, where I first came in. I walked peacefully for quite a few minutes, when I heard footsteps thundering away. I ducked into a room, and let the guard run past. I then kept on my way.

It took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to curse as loud as I could when I reached the dining-room again. There was another little power-meeting going on, right where I was supposed to leave from. I turned and snuck back down the hall, but then I heard more footsteps, getting closer, and coming from ahead. I turned quickly, and saw an open door, so I went in and shut it, listening to the steps pass.

"You have it, don't you, Alex?" There was a little silvery tinkle of a laugh.

I spun around, and saw no one there. I blinked, and looked over the room. There was a large fireplace off to the side, and some easy chairs and a table in front of it. There were some cabinets with what looked like glasses on the side, and a tray was kept there as well. A nice rug was thrown down on the hard-wood floor. There were a few of those huge windows, with long maroon curtains hanging down them. But there was no one there.

The little silvery tinkle reached me again, along with a sweet voice, the sweet voice of a young girl, one who loved to poke at a dog with a stick while it was locked in a cage. "The case was empty, and man, let me tell you, Alex, that was a real bitch to get to. You have no idea how angry I was when I saw that. So then, I go looking for the old fart, and when I find him, he doesn't know where it is. But he said he had it earlier. So, after I drain him, I get to thinking: just how senile is old Laidlaw? He's not that old, and that thing is just too important for him to leave around.

And then, I saw you."

I was still crouched by the door, but I had put my back to it, swinging my head wildly, trying to find out where they were.

The voice was vicious without being vicious, with each word making my heart beat slower and slower, convincing it to just give up and shut down. "Up here, Alex."

I gulped, and let my gaze rise. There were only two floors of the mansion, but the ceilings were quite high, ridiculously high. That's why I hadn't seen her at first.

There were scars, scratches, and marks all over her. I guess this Laidlaw guy had that weird fetish for properly dressed maids or whatever, but the already quite revealing dress she had on was torn to shreds. There were plenty of bullet-sized holes in it, too. There was no white frock on the front, it was just the black dress, but it had been ripped short, so that it didn't fall past her knees. She'd probably done that herself, so she'd be more mobile. She didn't have any stockings on, or any shoes. Her bare feet were elongated by a few inches and clawed, just like her blood-stained hands; they were dug into the ceiling, holding her up there. Her back was to me as a result, but she had turned her head towards me, turned it a little further than it should be able to, peeking around her curly, flowing blonde hair. I locked eyes with her. I locked eyes with her to keep the wide, blood smeared mouth out of my vision. She was smiling, showing off what looked like a million needle teeth, all very thin, and all very sharp. Her smile almost stretched from ear to ear. And when I say that, I don't mean to use that cliche in the usual way, the way we're all used to. I mean it literally almost stretched from ear to ear. Go look in a mirror. Smile. Smile as wide as you can. Now imagine it getting wide enough to where you could shove both your fists into your mouth and have room to spare. It was wide enough for me to keep staring at her eyes, as disgusting as they'd become. The whites had turned blood red, and her pupils were now as blue as her irises had been. It looked like she didn't even have pupils. And I did see both of her eyes; she really was able to turn her head around that much. Not entirely one-hundred and eighty degrees, but pretty damn close, with the rest of her body facing the opposite direction. Like I said, just far enough for it to make me feel sick.

Liz gave me one more little silvery laugh. "Hey there, long time, no see." She then winked at me, and it was with the eye that I had gouged. "How does it go again, an eye for an eye?" And then, the smile somehow got even wider. "It was so easy to guide you in here," she said, "You heard me pounce before, didn't you? And I knew that way out up ahead was being watched. I was thinking about using it myself! But then I heard you, so I just slipped in here, and left the door open." Her laugh was a purr this time, and then she sighed with disappointment. "So easy... too easy..." Her words were then covered by a sudden clap of thunder, her wrecked body flashing in the lightening that followed.

The sound echoed for a few silent moments.

I slowly stood up, walked over to one of the cabinets in the room, and opened it. Inside there were a few good bottles, but the Johnny Walker blue label and whiskey glasses caught my eye. Awesome. I opened the Johnny and poured myself a stiff double. I took a few breaths while closing my eyes, and then downed it all in one gulp. I shivered as it went through, and kept shaking for a few seconds after as well. I then turned back and looked up at Liz, who tilted her head a bit and cocked an eyebrow at me, looking confused.

I threw the glass at her.

It bounced off her forehead with a thunk, and shattered on the floor.

She sighed. "Oh, I am so going to kill you."

I was too busy sprinting at the door to bother retorting. I heard her claws scratching up the ceiling as she closed in. I wanted to scream in frustration and terror.

But then, just as she reached the wall ahead of me, and I the door, it started to open.

She freaked out, but didn't make a sound. She scampered down so that the now open door would be between her and the guards. I managed to slide behind the cabinet before they saw me.