Chapter 52: Draugr
"Fucking draugr," Kaine muttered, leaping from one rooftop to the next with practiced ease. His ribs still ached where the creature’s claws had found their mark, and his coat was torn in three places. "Should’ve just torched the restaurant and called it a day."
Marcus landed silently beside him, pale eyes reflecting the city lights below. The ghoul’s wounds had already healed completely, leaving only torn fabric as evidence of their earlier fight.
The system notification had come through right after Marcus had separated the draugr’s head from its shoulders—500 ME for the kill, plus another 300 for what turned out to be the creature’s last victim. Some poor bastard who’d been dragged into that storage room for dinner. Fresh blood, warm flesh. The draugr had been in the middle of feeding when they’d interrupted.
’At least someone’s mortal essence got put to good use,’ Kaine thought grimly.
They moved across the industrial district with the fluid grace of predators, heading toward the address their client had provided. Mrs. Kendricks had called three hours ago, convinced her twenty-two-year-old son was dating a bloodsucker. Standard paranoid parent bullshit, except she was paying triple rates for discretion.
"Kid’s probably just dating someone with a goth phase," Kaine said to Marcus as they dropped down into an alley. "But who am I to turn down a handful of cash"
The target location was a converted loft building in the arts district—the kind of place where trust fund kids played at being bohemian while daddy paid the rent. According to Mrs. Kendricks, her son Tommy had been spending every night here with his new girlfriend, coming home pale and exhausted.
’Either she’s a vampire or she’s just really good in bed.’
They scaled the fire escape of the adjacent building, giving them a clear view into the loft’s oversized windows. The space was typical young adult chic—exposed brick, industrial lighting, furniture that cost more than most people’s cars but was designed to look like it came from a thrift store.
And there they were.
Tommy Kendricks was sprawled on a leather couch, looking exactly as tired as his mother had described. Dark circles under his eyes, skin with that translucent quality that came from too little sleep and too much stress. Beside him sat a petite redhead in ripped jeans and a vintage band t-shirt.
Kaine activated his Death Sight, scanning both figures through the window.