Oh how Vivienne had been right! Three days had passed since Ryan had been turned into a vampire and after the spell, curse or whatever you could call it had disappeared, it had all come crashing down on him and he had almost only entrenched himself in his windowless bedroom. It had been a small room, with a bed through it, and in desperation Ryan had clung to the only thing that sustained him - the TV programme on his ft screen TV. It hadn’t mattered to him whether it was the news or a tearjerker film, a long-running commercial or even a test pattern with music. The main thing had been that he could feel human, as if everything was the same as always and he had even ignored the prolonged ringing and knocking at his new ft door two days ago. However, Ryan was a vampire now, but so far he hadn’t felt any thirst or anything that could be called hunger for blood. That irritated him and that was why he still clung to the vague hope that it was all just a very bad joke. On the other hand, he had seen what Vivienne could do and it was real, as far as Ryan could tell. Then there were the noticeable changes to his body that he had noticed and surveyed. Ryan had otherwise been of average nature, but the way he saw it, from society’s point of view, he would probably now be considered very handsome and extremely well trained. His face in particur not only looked better, but his features had changed a little. Perhaps enough so that none of Ryan’s acquaintances would immediately recognise him, but what did it matter? The rules were clear - Ryan Walker no longer existed and his family and friends had to believe that, for their own good. “What now?” he sighed wearily as his mobile vibrated once again. Yesterday he had already received a message from Saunders regarding his new names and a new message from the wyer had arrived on the device’s dispy.

  Mr Walker, I hope you have acclimatised and got used to your new existence by now, because there is work waiting for you and I don’t have to stress how important it is that you solve this task to the complete satisfaction of the Tenebrae. More information will be given to you by one of our contacts. His name is Gordon Mitchell and he is a private investigator. He has his agency on 53rd Street, not far from you and has been informed about you and your task. You don’t have to hide from Mr Mitchell either - he knows what you are, what the Tenebrae is, everything. Should you succeed in your task, contact me. Should you fail, I recommend you enjoy one st sunrise. That would be far more humane than possible alternatives.

  O. Saunders

  Ryan cpped his hand over his face and ran it over his face unwillingly. It must be, he thought. His situation still caused him a lot of discomfort, but he didn’t want to just surrender to its end either. Besides, he somehow had the strange feeling that it might not only affect him if he failed. Forkner, Vivienne, both had stood up for him in their own way and if there was one thing Ryan had always done, it was to return the favour and at least in doing so he could also get in touch with someone who knew. So he freshened up a bit, although that didn’t apply to his 3 day old clothes. He probably should have ordered new ones, but it was what it was and an hour ter, around 9pm, he left his ft.

  "Well hello stranger!" came from behind him.

  Ryan had just locked up and turned around in surprise. "Mh?"

  A woman of about 25 to 30 was standing in the hallway, at the opposite ft door. "Welcome to the neighbourhood," the stranger greeted with an amused shake of her head. She had a sleeping boy of about 2 years on one arm and a paper shopping bag on the other. "I’ve liked it so quiet so far, but feel free to say something."

  "Oh, yes, hello," Ryan finally raised his hand. Vampiric abilities? My ass. The woman had snuck up on him like a mouse. "Sorry, I haven’t quite arrived here yet."

  "I noticed," the woman said, trying to fish her ft key out of her pants, but it wasn’t that easy with full arms.

  Ryan was well behaved, though. "I’ll take that for a minute," he offered and had the shopping bag handed to him.

  "Thank you," the woman said and then had no trouble opening hers. "I’m Melissa Hard, by the way, and who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

  "Ryan."

  "Ryan who?"

  "Oh, Ryan," Ryan faltered. He hoped that kind of just came across as more shy than confused, because at least with his new identity he’d been allowed to keep his old first name. "Ryan Tavish."

  "Again then - welcome, Ryan Tavish," Melissa greeted, getting the shopping bag back. "By the way, I have something for you."

  "For me?"

  "Yes, a messenger was here the day before yesterday, but you didn’t answer your door. So he rang my doorbell and I took the package."

  Briefly Ryan swallowed and he hoped she hadn’t peeped into the delivery. "That’s very kind of you."

  "Yes, don’t mention it, but I want to know one thing right away," Melissa pointed out seriously, taking the box from behind the door with her foot. It still looked sealed. "There’s nothing illegal in there, is there?!"

  "What? No!" affirmed Ryan. It was questionable to him whether the cash and blood were really legal, but from his point of view they were. "What makes you think that?"

  "Her predecessor, he used to get packages too, which I sometimes accepted," Melissa expined, looking anything but happy. "And then at some point the cops not only kicked down his door, they kicked down mine too!"

  "Why? Did he have a drug b?"

  "No, he was a pusher and dealt in prohibited items: Pictures, guns, videos, you name it and I can tell you!" sighed Melissa in frustration. "Convincing the police that I didn’t know about it wasn’t exactly easy!"

  "That must have been really bitter," Ryan empathised with his mother and reiterated his statement. "I’m not involved in anything like that, I promise! I’m in IT and I work from home a lot." Lied wasn’t even a lie and it clicked with Ryan! His former job was the excuse. "That’s why I’m more of a night owl and must have been asleep when the delivery guy brought the package."

  "So you’re a bit of a nerd?" grinned Melissa cheekily. "You look more like an Olympic runner or a model."

  "Haha, model," Ryan dismissed the statement and ran an embarrassed hand through his oak brown, medium length hair. "I’ve heard some things, but not that."

  "Well I should know," Melissa said with conviction and began to gently cradle the child in her arms as the tter became restless. "I work as a photographer for an agency and we take those great pictures you see of products on websites and in advertisements."

  "So," Ryan smirked for the first time in days. "If I see a gorgeous can of beans, maybe you photographed them?"

  Melissa smiled proudly. "Among other things. Isn’t quite as exciting as working with models or rger objects, but even the essence of a can has to be captured!"

  "Definitely sounds more exciting than fixing bug 34 over and over again that isn’t actually a bug," Ryan ranted expertly, but also annoyed. "In short, people just type codes wrong and some still don’t understand to this day."

  "You’re right," Melissa agreed, swinging her curly, luscious blonde hair out of her face. Over all, it was only now that she noticed her sweet vender scent. "I have the more exciting job."

  "Ouch, that one was sitting," Ryan ughed and the longer he looked at the woman, the more he noticed every little detail about her. Silky smooth pink skin, with no freckles or anything, the gorgeous contours of her body, the light brown of her eyes and her brightly painted but not overly long fingernails. The little boy’s nascent whining, however, snapped Ryan out of that focus. "Oh, someone’s getting feisty."

  "Rather cranky," Melissa sighed, shoving the box outside her door. "I’m afraid that’s my cue Ryan. The little one really needs to go to bed."

  "You’re welcome, nice to meet you Melissa," Ryan replied, picking up the package.

  "Ditto, have a good, less busy night," Melissa bade a friendly farewell and shut her door, followed by a multiple lock click.

  At least the neighbourhood seemed to be in order, which gave Ryan some comfort as he set the package down in his ft. As advertised by Saunders, inside was an envelope containing 5000 cash, but Ryan only pocketed 500 of it. Also in the package was another bck box. It was completely sealed and after Ryan opened it and a gush of ice-cold air poured out of the sides, he found half a dozen units of blood inside. Don’t! No, he didn’t want to deal with that now and sealed the box again. He felt fine and he had no desire to consume blood. Instead, he called a taxi.

  Not far was always a retive term for anyone, but it took Ryan 20 minutes to reach 53rd Street. At least it looked more mannerly than his neighbourhood, even if police car sirens kept bring in the vicinity and in the distance.

  The main focal point of the street was a Y-junction, at the fork in the road of which was a busy, for this time of night, triangur-shaped kiosk. A good ten customers stood around the substantial mini-building, where all sorts of things were avaible. Smells of meat, such as burgers, chicken or hot dogs, pizza and simir fast food favourites rose up there. Various drinks were avaible as well, and next to TV screens, there were also information columns that were the newspaper of today and could be consulted for a fee, as there were hardly any printed paper publications left. At least not as far as magazines and the like were concerned.

  Ryan also saw a dispy on the kiosk, with the time and temperature. It was actually a frosty seven degrees below zero, but he didn’t even feel a shallow draft and suspected that vampires were much more resolute about environmental influences. "Gordon Mitchell," Ryan muttered to himself after pulling out his mobile phone and searching for the address.

  The destination could well be described as a backyard business, because even though the actual building was on the street, you had to go down a narrow side alley where dumpsters and wire fences dominated the scene before you reached the entrance. On the doorbell, however, there were almost only normal names and only the private eyes agency stood out.

  G.M., private investigator

  Search, peep, protect

  Peep, it went through Ryan’s mind. A very elegant word for spying. However, he didn’t want to judge. Everyone had to make a living somehow and in the IT field there were far worse things when it came to gathering information. A man who worked for vampires, however, had to be of a completely different calibre and was certainly not out to prove the infidelity of men or women.

  After the bell rang, a young woman’s voice listened over the intercom. "Yes please?"

  "Good evening," Ryan greeted. "My name is Tavish. I have an appointment with Mr Mitchell."

  "Just a moment," the voice asked, loosely humming for more than a few seconds already. "There you are, Ryan Tavish. Fifth floor. You can’t miss us."

  Ryan didn’t have to lift a finger. A beep sounded and the colourless door slid open of its own accord. Inside it was quiet, appropriate for this time of night, and truly Ryan couldn’t miss the agency, for on the 5th floor was a heavy, metal door that had the same inscription as the bell. "Yep, definitely anything but a regur detective."

  "Hey, we live in a dangerous neighbourhood," the young woman’s voice chimed in again, but she didn’t really sound concerned. "If you only knew, but come in first. Press once."

  A rustier beeping sound came to Ryan and he pushed the metal in the hinge. "Cosy," he said immediately. The hallway ahead was narrow, with the reception desk taking up much of the avaible space.

  "Just our little world," a woman in her early 20s grinned, her whole style screaming goth. From her hair to her eye shadow and lipstick, to her casual clothes. Almost everything about her was bck, or at least with a dark tinge. Only the snowy blue strands of her hairstyle, tied into a sort of cross on the back of her head and bristling with a lone, long parting on her forehead , stood out against all the bck. "MG has another session right now. Why don’t you go to the waiting room for that long. I can also bring you something to drink if you want. A water? A Coke?"

  "MG?"

  "Well Gordon Mitchell," the woman said naturally, clearly listening to music through a wireless earpiece on the side. "He solves a lot of cases so fast, though, that I prefer to call him MG. Fast as a machine gun."

  "Ah, MG," Ryan rubbed his index finger across the side of his forehead. "And what may I call you?"

  "Aeternitas, but only when MG isn’t around," the woman sighed, making entries on her PC as she chatted without really looking. "He gives me a lot of liberties, but for the sake of professionalism, Kylie Cameron is preferred."

  "How about KC?"

  "Not just pretty, but something in the head," Kylie grinned coquettishly. "So Ryan, something to drink?"

  No, Ryan still didn’t feel any urge, although he was a little dishonest in saying so. "No thanks, I’m not thirsty."

  "Okay then, take a seat with your bum for once."

  Ryan nodded mutely and followed Kylie’s pointing. To his right was a doorless frame containing a room that, in terms of space, could have been more accurately described as a storeroom. But at least there were six comfortable wooden chairs, all spread out along the walls, and there was even an information pilr in the middle. Ryan didn’t use it, however, and he didn’t have to wait too long.

  The slide of a door could be heard and two men were soon standing outside the waiting room. "Well, I hope this helps you," said a man estimated to be 40 years old, who didn’t have a single hair on his head but did have the crisp brown beard of a strapping lumberjack sprouting on his face. Physically, his stature said the same and he wore the matching bck and red tiled shirt and trousers with straps.

  "Thank you so much, Mr Mitchell," said a much older, white-haired man, rubbing a tear from his face. "After so many years, I have found my daughter."

  "A real pleasure," Gordon replied, shaking his obvious client’s hand firmly. "I hope you’ll be able to make a connection. Good luck."

  "Thank you very much," the old man repeated himself, refusing to be bounced for a hug.

  It seemed routine for Gordon, but he still seemed very cordial and patted the man warmly on the back. "So if you hug your daughter half as well, she’ll be in tears of joy."

  The old man smiled happily and eased away from the detective, rather nodding politely to Kylie and leaving the agency.

  "Mr Tavish, I presume?", Gordon gnced into the waiting room and curtly beckoned his guest. "Come."

  Even as Ryan was about to get up and comply with the request, there was a brief conversation at the counter.

  Gordon did not seem happy. "Miss Cameron, has our special case finally paid?"

  "Nope, just checked fifteen minutes ago," Kylie shook her head buoyantly. "No entrance MG."

  "Unbelievable," Gordon ran his beard through his widened eyes and spoke pinly. "Write him a final warning. Either he pays at least half or I let his partner know and instead sell him the information I found."

  "Will do MG," Kylie replied lightly and set about pounding the keys.

  "Trouble?" asked Ryan forebodingly.

  "Since I’m getting my money either way, not really," Gordon now said unconcernedly. He put an arm around his guest and led him along. "But let’s talk in my office."

  Somehow Ryan liked the private investigator immediately. He seemed like the kind of guy who would tell you everything to your face and still not be an ass. "I guess I listen more," Ryan guessed, taking a seat across from an electronic desk. "This is ... all new territory for me."

  Gordon’s office was halfway more spacious than the waiting room, with old-fashioned filing cabinets and an open window that let fresh evening air into the room. He closed that now, though. "Yes, I’ve been told that much," the detective confirmed, but interestingly, he seemed as uncomfortable with the situation as his guest. "And I can tell you, the two of us have really ended up in deep shit."

  "Sorry, I had no saying in it," Ryan defended himself calmly. "If you’re in trouble for it now, compin to Lady Gardner or this Tenedae."

  "Tenebrae," Gordon corrected, dropping into his swivel chair. A half-smoked cigar was needed, which the detective relit. "And no kid, I don’t bme you. I probably would have got the job anyway because the other vampires were apparently too stupid to pull it off."

  "That bad?"

  "I told you, really in deep shit," Gordon remarked with a deep draw on his cigar. "That’s why I’ve worked something else out for you for now."

  "Something else?" listened Ryan thoughtfully. "What do you mean by that?"

  "No offence, but our assignment is getting really dangerous and I want to know first if I can rely on you," Gordon crified, dabbing ash from his cigar into an ashtray. "That’s why I’m giving you another task for now, a little test."

  "But there was nothing about that in Mr Saunders′ memo," Ryan replied, caught off guard. He already had no say in any of this, but should it be standard for everyone to use him as they pleased? "This really fucks me off. So now I’m being tested to take a test?"

  "Believe me, I still mean well by you," Gordon spoke bnkly honestly and he had his reasons for wanting what he wanted. "I’ve been working for the Tenebrae for 30 years and if what they say is true, that’s a strong thing for humans to survive that long. That’s why I want to know I can count on you. Otherwise, I’ll do Saunders′ job alone."

  "Is that even allowed?" questioned Ryan, and not just out of spite. "I don’t know the rules, but I’m supposed to be doing a job for the Tenebrae, not for you."

  "Retract the cws, kid," Gordon tried to reassure. "I’ve been given a free hand and you do as I tell you. If that’s a problem for you, please - there’s the door."

  Ryan folded his arms and slumped back in the chair. He looked at the door and considered it grimly to himself. Yes, he could just run away now, preferably far away and disappear into some backwater. Maybe he would be able to disappear and the vampires would leave him alone, but then Julia’s fate came to his mind again. He still didn’t understand, but she lost her head just because she had turned him into a vampire. Surely there was more to it than that, only it showed Ryan that vampires certainly wouldn’t leave anything undone and Saunders had made it clear to him again what would happen if they failed. "Fine, fine by me," Ryan panted reluctantly and smmed his arms down on the table.

  This caused a loud crack and left more than one dent before all the electronics gave up the ghost with a crackle. "Indeed, a child," the private eye noted with little surprise, ticking it off unconcernedly. "Don’t worry about it, the Tenebrae will pay for it."

  Kylie hurried through the door. "MG! Everything all right in here?!" the receptionist asked, looking at the men and the damage. "Do you want me to call the police?!"

  "Calm down Miss Cameron," Gordon shook his head nonchantly, taking his guest in his stride. "Mr Tavish got up a bit unhappily and I always knew that table was scrap."

  "Well MG, that’s what you get for buying it off a truck," Kylie said knowingly. She bought the investigators statement, or maybe she had just seen enough in this trade and at this time of night to not ask further. "I’ll order another one right away, but a real one this time!"

  "Sure thing, you do that."

  "Then I might as well order a new air conditioner too!" added Kylie as she left, the door closing behind her. "The old one doesn’t heat properly anymore!"

  "Hey i-!", Gordon spoke up, but by then the woman was gone and the room closed. The private eye scratched his head in defeat. "Like I could stop her, and it’s true, it’s mighty nippy in here."

  The conversation between the two had given Ryan a moment to get down and enjoy this human conversation. "The girl’s got a strong personality, eh?"

  "She’s perfect for the job," Gordon praised without overdoing it. "Twenty-two years young and has worked for me for more than three years, but shhh! She knows nothing about vampires and co! I needed someone who could cope with our nocturnal clientele and with my working hours in general. If you only knew what sometimes happens when others are asleep."

  "I guess I’ll find out for myself soon enough," Ryan replied after his suspicions were confirmed that Kylie had certainly seen a lot of things. "So what do you want me to do to prove myself?"

  Gordon’s cigar was almost a stub, but there was still something left. "Keep things tidy," he said sarcastically, stubbing out the cigar in the ashtray where he left it. "I mean, here we are in one of the greatest, most modern cities in America: what else would you do here?"

  Ryan was undecided how to respond. "Become a movie star?"

  "Yes, oh yes, the second Hollywood," Gordon grinned broadly. "With all its undiscovered waiters, taxi drivers and dishwashers." For a moment the mood remained rexed, but then Gordon put on a professional face. "No seriously now, this area has a problem that was brought to my attention just a while ago. A small gang has set up shop here and is terrorising the people. They’re stealing, dealing drugs and extorting protection money."

  "Isn’t that a job for the police?" asked Ryan logically. If the problem was known, why wouldn’t they do something about it? "I mean, you make the problem sound more than obvious. Surely it should be dealt with by the w?"

  "That’s how it goes in a world of imagination," Gordon sighed and for a moment, the seemingly 40 year old looked a few decades older and he turned slightly sour. "In this part of town, the police budget has been cut in recent years. You have to spend so much on other pointless shit."

  "You’re saying there’s not enough officer presence?"

  "Yep, and I know some cops in the area," Gorodon mentioned, stroking his portly beard thoughtfully. "Most of them are good, hard-working cops, but they can only do so much and in some cases their hands are tied. Not to mention the problem is hardly official. This gang intimidates people and threatens families."

  This was the first time Ryan had come into contact with such things and it was uncomfortable for him, he couldn’t deny that. "And you now expect me to ...?"

  "Precisely not!" emphatically denied Gordon. The man knew his business, it became clear. "In case you haven’t figured it out yet - the Tenebrae doesn’t want attention. Sure, you could make the bodies disappear and we wouldn’t have any problems, but don’t think that’s going to go unnoticed, because you want me to be honest kid?"

  "I don’t think you could be anything else," Ryan said, honest and pleased. "What’s the catch?"

  "I’ll bet my ass you’re being watched," Gordon surmised, pointing to the shuttered window. "At least a pair of eyes, or even two, three."

  "Watchers?"

  "More like snitches," Gordon waved it off contemptuously, sounding like he already knew quite a bit about the situation, but not necessarily from Mr Saunders. "The point is, everyone is trying to piss on everyone’s leg and I’ve already heard about your story. Pure dynamite that could tear some people apart."

  Vivienne had already hinted at it and now Ryan was hearing it again. Whether he could endure this world for long he didn’t know, but at least he could now better understand Gordon’s desire. "Now then, what exactly do you want me to do about this gang?"

  "Teach them a lesson," Gordon said, leaning forward to look his guest straight in the eye. "Don’t kill them! Under no circumstances! I want you to chase this scum away. Words will hardly do it, but I’ll give you complete freedom on how. The main thing is that they disappear! No more bckmail, no more drug dealing, the end of the line! If they know what’s good for them, they’ll leave Great Kingston!" That was the instruction from the private eye, who looked at the damage to his table and tapped his index finger on his intact side. "I want to see how reliable you are. Maybe break a few bricks first so you can get a feel for your strength, otherwise these gangsters′ heads will fly off their shoulders at the first blow."

  First Ryan looked at the damage to the table and then at his hands. Yes, this was his doing and he tried to comprehend the brute strength he now called his own. "Do you know where I can find this scum then?"

  "About. You must have a mobile phone?" asked Gordon. Having seen the mobile phone, he had it handed to him and tapped away on it. "There’s a hauge company on the edge of the district. There was a fire there a few months ago and the owner went bankrupt. Supposedly the gang is hanging around there. If that’s not the case, you’ll just have to do some investigative work."

  Ryan jokingly reached out and got the phone pced in his hand. "A new job, great. How much are you paying me?"

  "I like your humour," Gordon ughed. There was no money from him, but he opened a drawer of his desk and took out a bunch of keys. "As a token of my trust, you even get my second car. Old, but sturdy."

  "For the couple of blocks?" doubted Ryan as he reached for the bunch.

  "It needs an inspection," Gordon merely commented, eyeing his counterpart for a while before tempering the tter’s expectations. "Hey, the workshop is on your way. I so rarely get a helper from the Tenebrae."

  Ryan let his shoulders and the corners of his mouth hang appropriately stultified. "Do I ever actually want to work for vampires? What will they ask of me?"

  "Difficult question, but you’ll have to find that out for yourself," Gordon admitted, turning a little in his chair. He had a mini-fridge from which he pulled out a thick, juicy sandwich with all sorts of toppings. "I try to stay out of politics as much as possible."

  The smell of the sandwich was a relief to Ryan’s sensitive nose and yet he felt little appetite for it. "In that case, why are you working for the Tenebrae in the first pce?"

  "Long story, some reasons," Gordon replied, biting heartily into his sandwich, his mouth full. "You should care less about me." He smacked his lips a few times first and swallowed the chunk. "Take care of the gang first. After that, maybe we can py a little future music."

  The private eye was probably right. "Aye, aye, boss," Ryan agreed and rose. "Do you have any more well-intentioned advice for me?"

  "Don’t look around."

  "What for?"

  "Your watchers," Gordon wiped his mouth. "You won’t spot them, but you’ll make yourself more vulnerable. You’d better not do that."

  "I’m curious what I get to do, after all those bans," Ryan puffed in amusement and went his way.

  At the counter, Kylie was still waving at him sweet as sugar. "Bye, bye Ryan."

  "See you soon, KC," Ryan winked nonchantly. Maybe he was going down soon, but if he was, he was going down in style.