I had been through hundreds of dinners like this, before. Working in the city had taught me a lot, and fed me lots of new experiences such as expensive business dinners, statement of work agreements, and more paperwork than any forest would feel necessary. At first, I had felt seriously confined in the likes of a meeting like this. Tie knotted right, suit pressed correctly, etcetera. I felt like the knot was often slipping far too high up my throat, replacing the bare chest I'd been able to wear during "business" meetings at home. But those meetings? They were nothing like the upscale get-togethers like I attended, now. Africa was a world scales below this one, marred by the decisions of men and boys who were hardly qualified to walk the earth from whatever fiery cavern below the surface they washed up from. I might have been young, but some things are incredibly innate. The ability to stand at the head of a table while racks of guns lined the walls behind you, and disagree with men who frequently raided the streets with the intent to pillage, rape, and all but demolish the town; I think that ability was innate, for me.

I followed a path I created all my own, hacking the foliage away with my own machete. I'd be damned, even then, if anyone had stood in that path. And often? I was damned, lining the silver blade of that physical machete â€" instead of a metaphorical one, with the scarlet, glistening blood of whoever had told me no.

It wasn't a word I was prepared to hear, or accept.

They had told me that this would be "dangerous", and when I'd laughed? The indignant smirks had surfaced like they usually did, physically telling me that I would fail. But that was when I worked best, swimming down rivers of disbelief in order to prove someone wrong. I had all the motivation in the world, whether I wanted it or not, to succeed and watch the indignant smirks turn into appreciative frowns. I had planned the night out so well that every event was accounted for. There was absolutely no turn in the schedule that I hadn't accounted for; even now, if he declined his end, there was another waiting for him in his car. If he became suspicious, there was another end awaiting him.

He wasn't walking out of this evening intact... I could feel the satisfaction and condescension in my very being, humming in my blood just below the surface. They all thought they were doing me a favor, handing me a paycheck to do this.

I probably would have been happy to do it free of charge. I guess that's the sort of shit you don't admit to, and while I might appreciate a good set of handcuffs; orange isn't my color.

Frank had a similar face full of satisfaction, the lines of his face morphing into a similar expression. He felt comfortable enough to lean back, wipe his mouth with the cloth napkin lying in front of him. I had been watching him, engaging him and acquiescing to some minor conversation with the rest of the table. Simple answers cut short by small sips of the wine in front of me. Bland, flavorless answers came back from him while the lines around his eyes started to furrow further.

I turned my attention away from him, feeling the humming beneath my skin turning into almost effervescent vibrations.

" I have that tendency," I exhaled, smirking as her features contorted with the taste of the oyster. My voice was foreign for a moment to me, sounding much harsher and far more African than I remembered. The sound lured memories of far more volatile "meetings", and elicited a very subtle set of goose bumps that made me itch for a cigarette. " What did you expect?"

I love a good game. Serafina's expression, darkening too, was amusing. She clearly was enjoying it as much as I was. It was increasingly hard to find someone who enjoyed the play, the chase, whatever you want to call it, as much as I did. Whether the game was won by a body dropping on the floor, or with skin on skin... She clearly was an able player. I kept my eyes trained on her, regardless of the sudden silence falling on the table. My voice lowered, nearly inaudible as I gently touched her neck to ask her to lean in to me. My lips were close enough to her ear that each word would send shivers up her spine.

" Three, two, show time."

The waitress had casually refilled Frank's glass of wine moments before. The power flickered, the ground shaking at the same time. There was nothing but the sound of breaking plates, and raised voiced. And then? I felt the humming turn into a full set of shivers as the ground shook harder, and in the sudden panicked darkness, I saw his body fall. Patrons and employees hurried around in a terrified scuffle, trying to get out the front door as if the open world was safer than the quaking ground. I felt utterly, and completely, at home in the middle of the quake I had created. I felt more alive than I ever did, the very air feeling electric and soothing at the same time. Grounding me. I navigated the darkness easily, almost slithering through the throng to make it to the other side of the table, masked by the unnerving darkness.

Being invincible and invisible, I slipped into a familiar, well versed routine. His body was seizing, and I knelt quietly beside him, my fingers gently touching his throat. I had artist's fingers, gentle and soft. Though gentle and soft, they were extraordinarily careful and well versed in exertion. His eyes were clouded by the time I had even knelt near him. Serafina's potion clearly worked to a t. Impressive. I truly hadn't expected such pristine results; even so, I took pleasure in the audible snap of his neck beneath my fingers.

Now, I don't make mistakes. I plan for every breath, every step in the path of shit like this. But what the actual fuck. His neck cracked back into place seconds after I had moved my hands, preparing to help his body disintegrate there on the restaurant's wooden floor. Dust to dust, ash to ash, yeah... No. The fucker's body slowly ebbed back to life, and with an instant between us, he had rolled his eyes back to see me.

And they were red, accompanied by fangs.

Did I mention I hate vampires?