“It’s almost three nights now, kid,” Gordon’s voice rang out anxiously over the earpiece of the mobile phone. “I think you’d better get back to work with me.”


    Ryan paced back and forth tensely in his flat in the early evening while he spoke to the detective on the phone. "No, I’m not letting these wankers get away with it!" he said angrily. His anger at Helen’s serious injury was still swelling inside him. “And I’m not the one who was taken by surprise. So you’d better look after yourself."


    "Occupational hazard," Gordon dismissed the incident in the garage that he had told Ryan about. The detective’s voice remained calm but firm. "I honour your intentions, and I fully support them, but you’re just too new to this world. There’s no shame in calling off the hunt for now."


    "Calling it off is just another word for giving up and that would mean the apostles have won!"


    "For now, but even the Tenebrae are having enormous difficulty tracking down those bastards in Great Kingston," Gordon mentioned, taking an audible sip. “And the Tenebrae have good scouts and contacts. All the things you don’t have, unfortunately. So don’t take it so tragically."


    Ryan gripped the metal armrest of his desk chair and crushed it with rage, but he wanted to restrain himself in the face of Gordon. The detective had always been good to him so far. "I don’t want to give up, Mr Mitchell. I want to ... kill."


    Gordon’s voice wasn’t all concern. He wanted to make sure. "Even if it kills you?"


    "... yes."


    "All right, Ryan," Gordon murmured thoughtfully, as if he were passing on secret information. "I’ll give you that chance if you’re really ready for it."


    "I am," Ryan confirmed with focus. "How are you giving me this chance?"


    "Our investigation ... take the next lead on your own," Gordon said, probably putting his feet up on his desk. "Because I’m sure you’ll have Apostles to slaughter."


    "Yes? Why? What did you find out?" Ryan enquired. Of course, he had realised beforehand that working with Gordon would also have put him on the trail of the apostles. However, he wanted to do it on his own, as he was now being offered.


    "I was at the King’s Eye, but that was a dead end," Gordon sighed, but the detective wasn’t tired of it. "Only then I thought to myself, reporters like to seek out public places when they want to talk to informants about juicy details and the victim might have met his killer that way."


    "So you searched the reporter’s schedule?"


    "No, everything in the King’s Eye was gone," Gordon said in a cautionary voice. "The flat was also completely empty and the house server must have been completely rebuilt a few days ago. That was also the case with two of the three remaining victims. The Apostles seem to be trying to cover their tracks."


    "Shit, and what have you got then?"


    "Fortunately, we still have the data we’ve already saved," Gordon laughed heartily. "My private agency was probably even attacked last night because of it."


    "What? Why didn’t you say anything?"


    "Hey, I told you the day before yesterday to come back to work," Gordon said light-heartedly and took another sip. "Besides, Mato and his men fought that bunch of ... oh, you can’t even call it a fight. There were no vampires there. Just cannon fodder."


    With regard to the detective agency, Ryan was briefly curious. "And ... how did your unsuspecting secretary Kylie take the whole thing?"


    "I told you, you couldn’t even call it a fight. Apart from that, she didn’t see it directly and to her it was just a brutal brawl in the alley, in our bad neighbourhood ... even if it happened all around the building."


    "Was the data worth the attack? Were they of any use again?"


    "It would seem so," Gordon replied. He was a blood knight and a member of the Night, but in the end he was an investigator first and foremost. "I have a bar in my sights, small but nice. The ideal place for quiet business meetings."


    "I don’t quite understand," Ryan tried to follow. "Of course you were talking about public places, but I thought you didn’t get any information about the reporter? How do you come up with a bar?"


    "Well, I’ve spun this thread further," Gordon, the old rascal, connected. "Let’s assume the murderer met the reporter at a certain place. Maybe the killer chose the same place to meet the rest of the victims, and lo and behold, we have three hits: Brad Sederik, Cecile Hamilton from Steeling Goods and the state controller had all visited the bar in question for a business lunch in the last few months."


    "I assume the inspector is the one whose details you were able to obtain?"


    "No, everything was gone from him too, but still. The state itself really does keep all sorts of shit and you can’t just get hold of it, especially not such sensitive files. I passed it on to Saunders and a night later he sent me the information."


    Ryan wasn’t surprised. "Tz, the Tenebrae must be paying someone high up in the civil service?"


    "Someone? A lot of them certainly."


    "And you’re sure about the bar?" Ryan followed up and went to his fridge. A slight inhibition was still there, but he tore open a blood bag and quenched his thirst.


    "I think it’s the best lead," Gordon said, his voice softer. "Three out of six dead is no coincidence and the rest were probably there too. You need to go there and search."


    "More data?"


    "Hardly," Gordon doubted. For him, only the old-fashioned method remained. "Places like this regularly delete everything, and the last victim we looked for was only hours ago when the servers were reset. So if the bar didn’t delete everything, then the Apostles probably did. You’ll have to ask the staff or guests."


    "Does anyone remember?" questioned Ryan, whose body was now filled with renewed vigour to match his spirit. "There must be hundreds of people in and out a month."


    "You’d be surprised how some people are remembered, especially those who want to be inconspicuous."


    "Well, you’re probably right. It doesn’t hurt to try and I can fixate on a target," Ryan said gratefully. "Any more advice?"


    Hard to believe, but Gordon could be really serious and even quieter. "If this is the trail and you screw it up, we should enjoy one last sunrise. Clear?"


    "Crystal clear, Mr Mitchell. I’ll call you when I know more. Goodbye."


    "Good luck, Ryan."


    It was probably a blessing in disguise that Ryan still had the fine clothes from Lithia’s job and that they were freshly laundered. An ideal outfit for a visit to the bar, where he was about to leave his flat and bump into someone outside his door.


    "Slow down Mister Bond," Melissa tried to tame the eagerness and a savoury whistle escaped her lips. "And what a secret agent. What have you got yourself all dressed up for?"


    "Oh hi, Melissa," Ryan raised his hand, but he couldn’t contain his impatience. After drinking, he was extremely energised. "I wanted to go out and you? Were you just about to knock?"


    "Guilty," Melissa said, imitating a knock. "And I seem to have the perfect timing to stop you."


    "Stopping me?" asked Ryan, only now taking notice that the woman looked like she was getting ready for a nice night out. "So I don’t go out?"


    "A hundred points for the candidate!" nodded Melissa, with two thumbs up and she smiled warmly. "You know, I’ve never noticed that you’re any great cook and, as a computer expert, I’m sure you live on fast food and reheated food, so I thought, as a big thank you for your help with my connection the other day, I’d invite you to a hearty dinner among neighbours. Only good home cooking, so the best."


    This was far from perfect for Ryan, but he tried not to let it show. Yes, he had helped Melissa and his relationship with her was good and her gesture very warm, so he didn’t want to offend her directly. "That sounds really tempting," he began honestly, because the smell from Melissa’s flat really promised a damn tasty meal. Now he really wished he knew how to cast blood magic to politely talk his way out of this situation. "Just you know, this, well, where I’m going, this is an important business meeting! You know, work, work."


    Actually, that was a plausible reason to turn down the food, but Melissa’s joyful mood faded anyway. "Oh, work," she repeated in disillusionment and turned away in frustration. "God, I’m such an idiot! I knew I shouldn’t have planned this as a surprise!"


    "Hey, it’s the thought that counts," Ryan said encouragingly. "And besides, I’d only be disturbing little Andrew’s sleep."


    "Andrew is staying with my mum for the next few days. She likes having him with her and I so rarely get the chance for my own time."


    "You’ve put him somewhere else especially because of me? Then I should probably have known better."


    "I’m a terrible mum, aren’t I?" Melissa replied, disappointed in herself, without looking at the man. "Saying something like that."


    If there was one thing Ryan knew by now, it was that his emotions were extremely heightened after drinking and that applied to everything and at that moment, it was appreciation and compassion. "I’m not a dad, but mums and dads need their lives too and I can’t imagine how hard it must be as a single parent. You deserve an evening like this."


    "Which I won’t have now..." Melissa realised sadly. She looked at him, dissatisfaction at his rejection resting in her gaze. "But my fault, my problem. We all have our jobs. Have a good evening."


    "Melissa, wait!", Ryan stopped her in quick motion, with a firm grip on her arm. Fortunately, he had his strength halfway under control by now.


    This unexpected, perhaps somewhat rough manner made Melissa pause, undecided. "You’re going to be late."


    "Come with me!" Ryan said hastily before he even realised what he had just said and let go again.


    "Huh? To a business lunch?"


    Ryan couldn’t take that back now without seriously offending the woman. "Well, sure!" he clung to the invitation tensely. "It’s not like we’re discussing super secret information there and who says I can’t bring an escort?"


    "Oh, I can see what this is going to be," Melissa grumbled and walked towards him sternly. Was she about to make a scene? "Poor single mummy has to be pitied?"


    "W-what, it’s not like that."


    "Aha? What’s it like then?"


    "Well, well," Ryan faltered. If he was honest, he found the woman’s reaction unnecessary and beastly and was building up a little aversion. "You’ve gone to all this trouble and it won’t hurt anyone if you come with me."


    Women, with that certain look that could kill. Melissa was about to put it on. "If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s your kind."


    Ryan admitted defeat. "My kind?"


    "Yeah, caught stone cold," Melissa abruptly changed her mood to cheerful and pulled an imaginary zip over the man’s upper body, right up to his chin.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Huh?" blinked Ryan.


    "Oh your face, too delicious," Melissa smirked. Her scene had just been an act. "Did you really think I was one of those people who twist everything in a man’s mouth?"


    "Yes, he was really nasty!" Ryan sighed with relief. He’d really been taken for a ride. "You’ve just really won me over."


    "That’s as sweet as your invitation," Melissa smiled gratefully and scurried into her flat. "Just give me ten minutes, please, so I can put the food in the fridge."


    "Wait, I’ll help you."


    What was Ryan thinking? Nothing, he realised. It had been an impulsive act that had led him to find himself with Melissa at Richie’s, the supposed place where the Red Artist met his victims. He had put Melissa in extreme danger, but at least it had heightened all his senses and it was a good sign that he didn’t smell any odours of blood knights or other vampires. Not again would someone get hurt or even killed because of him!


    "IT must really be worth it," Melissa marvelled as she entered the manageable bar. It was 10 p.m. and there were maybe 20 people here, some of them keeping to themselves. The atmosphere was tranquil, accompanied by a real piano player and his slow, soft tones.


    "What do you mean?" asked Ryan, taking the woman’s fluffy winter jacket from her and hanging it up by the entrance.


    "Not the most expensive place, but the decor and flair alone. You have to leave a few dollars here."


    "Well, you’re my guest. Everything’s on me."


    "That’s sweet," Melissa said, but she turned round and pressed her purse against the man’s chest. "But I actually wanted to feed you and instead you were kind enough to take me with you, so at least I’m paying."


    "Fine, give me a few notes then," Ryan smirked, cheekily holding out his hand. "You find us the table and I’ll get us a few drinks, agreed?"


    "Division of labour, I like it," Melissa grinned back and pressed a 50 dollar note into his hand. "I’d like a Long Island Iced Tea and give the barmaid some of the good Ulysses."


    "Aye, aye ma’am," Ryan saluted playfully and walked over to the long bar counter. It appeared to be handmade and one of a kind, befitting his new league. Not that Ryan was super rich now, but after uncovering the Apostles alone, he received $5000 in cash from Gordon, sponsored by the Tenebrae, and another 20000 in his new bank account as a reward for the successful mission for Lithia. "Good evening."


    "Evening," the barmaid replied as she polished off a glass. She was a slim girl, maybe in her early 20s and not exactly tall. "Always nice to see new faces at Richie’s. Date night?"


    "Not quite," Ryan said, looking back queasily at Melissa, who had already taken up a separee by a window. "I have a business dinner here and had the spontaneous idea to take my neighbour with me."


    "Wow, that sounds really enthusiastic."


    "It was a bit of a quandary," Ryan shook his head and kept his tone low. "She’s my neighbour and wanted to surprise me with dinner and well, I just have this appointment here and she felt so bad and I actually thought her invitation was great, so now we’re just having dinner here instead of at her place."


    The barmaid smiled respectfully. "That’s very decent of you. It’s not easy as a mum to get time off for a meal."


    That made Ryan a little perplexed. "How do you know she’s a mum?"


    "Guessed," the barmaid lifted her shoulders. "She just has that mum vibe. I saw exactly how she had you under her thumb at the entrance."


    "At least she has a strong personality, that’s true," laughed Ryan, placing the 50 on the counter. "And she’d like a Long Island Iced Tea or no, make that two, please."


    "The classics are still the best," nodded the waitress and started mixing. "And your business? Reporters? Corporations?"


    "Reporters, perfect keyword," Ryan introduced, leaning on the counter to show her the picture of the dead reporter. "My business is more of a search. Have you seen this one here before?"


    The barmaid took her time mixing drinks and examining the photo, but she shook her head. "No, sorry. Doesn’t look particularly memorable either and isn’t one of our regulars or one of the ones who pop in from time to time."


    "Too bad, and what about them?" Ryan kept the ball rolling and showed the pictures of all the Red Artist’s victims.


    Less willing, the woman enquired. "Are you a cop?"


    "Private investigator."


    "Okay, then I’ll answer that too," the waitress winked, unabashedly relaxed. "But no, I’m sorry. They were probably all one-off guests. But I’ll definitely remember you for a long time."


    "Thank you for the compliment," Ryan replied unexpectedly and a sweet odour rose in the air, which he couldn’t quite place, but it came from the waitress. "I don’t hear that often."


    "As if," grinned the barmaid as she put down the two tall glasses of iced tea and took the money from the counter. "That’ll be twenty-five dollars."


    "Make it 30."


    "Nice and generous," the waitress said happily as she returned the money and leaned meaningfully over the counter. "Don’t take this as an extra bonus, but what are you planning to do after your meal?"


    The sweet smell intensified and Ryan was unprepared for the directness. "Eh ... walking home with my neighbour, I guess."


    "All the way to your flat?"


    "Oh, no, no, we part ways at the doors."


    "Then the place would be free for me later, when my shift ends in two hours."


    "Damn, you’re not holding back, are you," Ryan realised, not averse, but he pulled himself together. "I ... how about my mobile number?"


    "Not the answer I was hoping for, but a start," the barmaid said and exchanged numbers with him before blowing a kiss in the air. "And call me Sandra, sweetie."


    "Sandra, you’re welcome. I’m Ryan," Ryan introduced himself and took the ice-cold, steamed-up glasses.


    "Well then ... maybe I’ll see you later, Ryan, and a tip: my colleague André might know something about this wanted man."


    "Sounds good to me. Is he there right now?"


    "The gorgeous guy at the piano."


    "Thanks for the info," Ryan nodded and went to the private room.


    "Found a new girlfriend?" Melissa joked as she got her glass and took a sip with relish. "If so, she definitely knows how to mix cocktails."


    Ryan took a seat opposite the woman. "Let’s just say she was pretty open-hearted."


    "I could see that."


    "Surprised me, too."


    "Just don’t break a sweat," Melissa giggled and leaned back. She didn’t seem to have any expectations of the man, but instead of just a smell, she became noticeably warmer and a faint whiff of vinegar surrounded her. "Although I have to admit, a chat like this between us would be nice."


    "Until you find out that I’m not a racketeer, but a mobster."


    Melissa raised her drink and the glasses clinked against each other. "Nice try, but you’ll have to pay me back for my mean joke on the doorstep in another way."


    Ryan didn’t have any of the drink, but he let the flavour of the Long Island melt in his mouth. "Oh, you’re paying. I’ll take that as an apology."


    "For someone who spends a lot of time holed up in his den, you’re pretty smart," Melissa admitted. She wasn’t a woman who couldn’t admit to mistakes. "At first I thought you were the typical cliché, pretty to look at but a quiet type."


    "New circumstances are always difficult for me," Ryan admitted. As a human, he had always been more of a settled, steady type. He could change, but that always took time and what was his last change, if not the biggest and probably the last of his life. "And let’s just say my new working environment isn’t as comfortable as my previous one."


    "Working environment? You’re sitting in your own flat. What can’t be comfortable there?"


    "Maybe, but there are still video meetings and phone calls," Ryan listed, remembering the past. He didn’t like making calls without a picture, not even today. No matter who he called, he always had to prepare sentences in advance and even then he often got his words wrong. "And believe me, when an angry, perhaps unjustifiably annoyed voice booms in my ear, it’s 100 times worse than getting an enema in the office."


    Tell me about it," Melissa said sympathetically, taking a particularly hearty sip of her iced tea. "When clients complain about photos. Especially the ones who don’t have an artistic streak or when they try to push the price down because I -didn’t work according to their ideas-, which is a euphemism for bad work."


    "Cheapskates, eh?"


    "Hell yes. You often find them in my line of work because photography is so easy and you can charge so much money for this and that."


    Ryan remembered a little wistfully. "Every job deserves respect. My father worked as a plumber for 42 years. A backbreaking job, and the money could have been more, but he was satisfied and often said to me: ′Son, everyone can do something or does something that the other person can’t or won’t do. Make a joke about professions, but don’t belittle them and money alone says nothing about importance ... and now grab the üummel and unclog the blocked toilet."


    Melissa laughed. "I guess he proved his point in the end."


    "He did and he lived by his motto. He often railed against bankers, office jobs and civil servants, but usually emphasised that we needed them somehow ... most of them, anyway."


    "Lived?"


    For Ryan, his family had to be dead, but unfortunately that really applied to his father. "He didn’t get to enjoy his retirement for long. Heart attack."


    "I’m sorry."


    "It’s all right," Ryan raised his hand, wanting to get off the subject before he had to declare his whole family dead. "He could never turn down a good meal and what better way to do it than to do the same and enjoy a good meal?"


    "And your business appointment?"


    "What can I say ... probably late. Too bad."


    "Those who are late, how right you are," Melissa raised her a toast. "Honouring death, that’s what I toast - to your dad."


    "To Dad," Ryan joined in and then they both ordered their food. It was nothing out of the ordinary and while she had a burger with a side of fries and a salad, Ryan tried a steak with gravy and potatoes. The flavour melted in his mouth, but he ate with restraint and couldn’t bring himself to feign a healthy appetite. It must have seemed strange to his companion, but it was probably just because he had drunk his fill beforehand.


    "Everything okay?" asked Melissa, who had almost finished her plate. "You’re not even halfway through."


    "Mh, my stomach’s a bit queasy," Ryan talked himself out and glanced at his mobile phone. "My client is way overdue and appointments should be honoured."


    "Nothing worse than waiting and waiting, like at the doctor’s," Melissa sighed in unison, but she wasn’t too sad about it. "But you know, then we can enjoy the evening a little more. Always look on the bright side."


    "I prefer that to this stress every time," Ryan nodded and stood up. "I’ll tell you what. Get us two more Long Islands and I’ll go to the quiet room and make a phone call about my client so that I at least know what’s going on."


    "But don’t keep me waiting too long," Melissa giggled and headed for the bar.


    Once Ryan was sure she was busy, he walked towards the bathroom and past the piano player. "Hey man," he said, further shielded from possible view by a narrow column. "You’re really good."


    "It’s always a pleasure when my work falls on willing ears," smiled the bald André. He was built like an Adonis and his face was smoother than a baby’s bottom and the warm light from the bar accentuated his sandstone-coloured skin. "Certainly sweetens your evening, you and your pretty lady."


    "It certainly adds to the atmosphere," Ryan praised, searching through the photos on his mobile phone. "Oh, I hope you don’t mind if I talk to you while you’re playing?"


    "I can multitask. But what else could you tell me?"


    "More like a question," Ryan replied, showing the man the pictures. "Any chance you’ve seen any of these people here?"


    "Mhh, no, no," André looked through the photos without stopping to play. The face of the report, however, brought a grin to his lips. "Oh, I remember that one. Really handsome, although he’s a little too tall for my taste."


    "Yes? You remember him? Did he happen to meet anyone here?"


    "You bet," André’s eyes lit up and he spoke normally. "The real eye-catcher was that skinny bloke he was seeing. Lean isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I love smaller men."


    Ryan respected this orientation without any ifs or buts. "It’s often the same for me with women. You can give them a great feeling of security when you can embrace them completely."


    "My words exactly, but why are you looking for the man?"


    "Well I’m a private investigator and the little guy ... well, he’s married and tends to ..."


    "There’s always a catch and it fits, because he’s been seeing lots of different people here for the last few months," André sighed disappointedly as he came to the end of his current piece and spoke to the guests via a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, after a short break, I’m here for you again."


    Ryan’s investigator role seemed to be working. "You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of him, would you?"


    "More than one," André said, still reeling from the infidelity, and he pulled out his mobile phone. "He just looked too good, I couldn’t resist."


    Ryan finally got a glimpse of the supposed red artist. "Looks harmless," he murmured to himself. The man was indeed short and a little scrawny, wearing a Dolce & Gabbana suit. "Would it be okay if you sent me the pictures?"


    And there it was again, the rise of a new, intense smell, which this man was now giving off and in his case it was a spicy chilli pepper "Sure, but you’ll pay for my after-work drink later. I need to digest this shock."


    "Sure thing," Ryan agreed. He gave the man a 20 dollar note and received five pictures of the suspect in return. "That’s a real help, thank you very much."


    "Not for that," André grinned and went to the bar himself


    At last!, Ryan thought and hurried to the toilet. There were only two cubicles and after checking that no one was there, he sent the pictures to Gordon’s mobile phone with a message. Mr Mitchell, this is our suspect! A Richie’s employee confirmed to me that this man had met with several people over the past few months, one of whom he could positively identify as the dead reporter!


    Five minutes later, Gordon’s text message came back. This is an absolute slam dunk Ryan! I texted Saunders directly and he sent me a file immediately! The linnet in the picture, that’s Clément Chevalier! He’s a high-ranking Apostle!


    So our guess was right that the Red Artist is an Apostle! What now?! How does that help us?!


    Now that we know who we’re dealing with, perhaps we can follow new leads on these companies. Have you forgotten? It was a big project and that means a lot of money and money can always be traced somehow, especially with a name! Come to the my agency tonight and we’ll take these sons of bitches down! See you later, I’m busy now! Great work Ryan!


    Ryan splashed a few litres of water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His muscles were trembling and the prospect of imminent revenge fuelled his bloodlust. But first he had to let the evening fade away and didn’t want to rush his companion home to avoid arousing suspicion. There was so much time inside and he stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes to control himself better. As soon as the door opened a crack, he instantly tensed, the scent of a vampire clearly floating in the air and his eyes darted around the bar.


    Fortunately, Melissa was sitting unmolested in the private room. Sandra was behind the bar, André was playing the piano and none of the other guests were behaving suspiciously or seemed to be a threat.


    "That took a long time for so little food," Melissa noted with amusement and pushed a Long Island across the table. "And you missed out."


    "Missed out?" asked Ryan, stopping, prepared for a nasty surprise any second.


    "Yeah, apparently your complaint call did something," Melissa informed him, pointing to the exit. "Maybe three or four minutes ago, a smartly dressed guy called Patrick was here enquiring about you. I asked if he was here for the business lunch and he said yes. When he asked where you were and I said in the toilet, he said he wanted to speak to you in private outside."


    "Yeah, right," Ryan said, using that lie, surreptitiously rubbing his fingers together tightly. "I told him on the phone I wanted to talk to you in private first."


    That sounded quite Spanish to Melissa, as her expression revealed. "You don’t have to read him the riot act outside because of me. I’m your guest here."


    "And as my guest, you stay in the warm. Besides, you pay and whoever pays, enjoys."


    "But don’t leave me sitting here alone," said Melissa, glancing sharply at the counter. "Miss in heat is already pawing with her runners and just waiting to jump on you."


    "My word, I won’t run off with her," Ryan promised with a smile, even if it was a good face. "See you in a bit." That was his goodbye, maybe forever, he realised.