The air was thick with revelry and it turned her stomach as she sat nursing the highball glass. Her eyes scanned the semi-darkness and she nearly spit the whiskey on her lovely new dress. He was here, and he was on the dance floor. She watched him for a little while and decided he wasn't lit yet. She had to actually see him using before she could justify killing him. She wanted to watch him use her money to buy his high.
A man sidled up next to her and asked if he could buy her a drink. She decided the mark wasn't going anywhere and took her eyes from him. Ginnie smiled up at the man and wiggled her half empty glass at him.
"I'm good, but I wouldn't mind a dance."
She knew that the men in these clubs didn't want their women simpering docile things. If they wanted that they went to the country club or a more local tavern. They didn't pay the ungodly cover charge and drink prices for simpering airheads. She was given a grin and he offered his hand to her. Smiling she took it and put it on her hip. It would keep him close and let her lead.
She got them about half way to her mark when he spun her around and started gyrating his body against her's. She wanted to roll her eyes and push him away, but he was a good cover. It helped that the hair, make up and dress kept her from looking like the woman the junkie had seen in back alley dealings.
She moved her body to the music, but her brain was on over drive and so she was unable to let the music take her. She enjoyed dancing and was rather decent at the hip wiggling, body swaying dances of the day. She managed to get the man turned around so that her eyes could stay on, 'Joel! His fucking name is Joel.'
The song banged and boomed it's way through three versus and what had to be nine choruses. As they danced, she slowly pushed her dance partner toward Joel. She reached his small crowd as the song ended and moved into another. This one was slower and carried and edge of violent sex to it. She watched as Joel put a large wad of cash in a brunette's hand while a blonde pressed a little white pill to his tongue.
She deftly put another woman in her partners arms and moved up to dance behind Joel. With her mind she undid the little buckles of her shoes and toed them off. She was too tall for the man with them on. She slipped up behind him and pressed her body to his. He was starting to get high and full of himself so he was not being careful. He returned her advance by pressing his body into her's and putting a hand over the one she'd put around his stomach.
It was interesting to her that she felt nothing. No guilt, no shame, no second thoughts. This was business and he had been stealing from her. She put her mouth to his ear and nipped the lobe with a fang. Gently she licked the blood away and he moaned softly. "I don't suffer thieves to live Joel."
Liquer and Violence: The Answers to Life's Problems. (open)
Ginnie broke at least fifty traffic laws in her race to Club Eternity. She pulled herself together long enough to stop a block away and add a thigh holster and her browning to her wardrobe, before giving her car over to the mercies of the valets. She was glad that this outfit would be just as at home in Club E as it had been at the museum. The bouncer smiled at her approach and let her in with out even asking her name. "Lot of fair game tonight, ma'am."
He whispered in her ear as he held the door for her. She looked up at him in slight shock. Was this man a junkie or a dealer in the bite or be bitten game? She found she just didn't care. Maybe some other time she might. She nodded her head in acknowledgement and walked inside, become instantly enveloped in the throb of the music and the movement of the humanity within. Sighing, softly she made her way to the bar and ordered a double shot of single malt whiskey.
She needed a jump start before switching to the girly drinks. The bar tender served her with a smile and she slid on to the stool and stared down into the amber liquid.
Ginnie
18 years ago
Ginnie
18 years ago
Ginnie nearly cackled when she felt his body tense against her's and the ripe scent of fear started to flow from him. He knew who she was, and knew enough not to make a scene. Instead he continued to dance with her. She gave him points for that. He had been a good runner, and she had been thinking of giving him more responsibility then he went and got hooked on E. He was not as smart as she had believed. Pity.
"Do you know what is going to happen now, my little rat?"
One of her thugs had once asked her why she called them rats. She told him that a Cobra's least favorite prey was a rat and it would help to remind them just how low on the food chain they really were. The rat in question, nodded his head very slowly, as sweat broke out over his brow. He was feeling the effects of the E and terror at the same time. Very soon the feeling of invincibility would over take him and she needed to get him out of the club before that happened.
"Good, now you and I are going to leave the dance floor and go have a little talk outside."
He nodded again. She drew his hand around to his back and put it into a wrist lock as he began to move toward the side of the dance floor. Once there he jerked hard on his captive hand, and was almost too much for her to hold. Tightening the hold, she jerked just as hard on him and nearly toppled when he landed against her chest.
"We can do this two ways, rat. You can run and I get to hunt you down and you get to die nice and slow, or we can walk outside and you can die like a man. Either way you're going to die. A wise man once said. Do not run away from me, for you will only die tired. It's your choice, rat."
Ginnie let him go and he stood there a moment trying to decided what to do. That he didn't run immediately told her he was resigned to his fate. The dark head lowered and his shoulders slumped. She watched his back for a moment, and slowly the head raised and he finally turned to face her. His eyes were glassy and his breathing started to quicken. She was going to have a fight on her hands.
"Fine, bitch, you want to take this outside. Let's go. You can't hurt me now."
Damn. Oh well, she was armed, and he was not, well not that she had felt. She doubted he packed heat when going to do E. He was immortal for a few hours, who needed guns? She gave him a small smile and gestured for him to lead the way. They weaved through the crowd to the front door, had their hands stamped and were let loose on the night.
Ginnie pointed to the alley between Club E and the building next to it. He moved into the darkened corridor, stopping five feet from the wall that ended it. Ginnie stepped in something wet as she game to a stop eight feet from him, realizing that she'd left her shoes inside. Well that was alright, though the spike heels would have been a good asset in the fight.
He started to circle her. She'd been right, he had no weapons. Street rats pulled a weapon first thing, even doped up they used metal to help them fight. She circled with him, as she reached into the top of her dress to pull out the little knife clipped there. They moved around each other, like tigers in a cage, eyes wary fingers twitching. Well his twitched, hers unfolded the knife. Finally he lunged at her. Ginnie lept up, and over him, controlling her descent to light gently on the ground. It would have been pretty in the dress had she not been barefoot, in an alley with a man intent on killing her.
Stunned that he's missed, he spun around and caught the blade of her thrown knife in his shoulder. It buried itself to the hilt. She hadn't meant to throw it that hard. A howl of pain and rage tore from his throat as he reached up and jerked the knife from his flesh. Blood spurted out and flowed freely down his arm to drip rapidly on the ground. It slowed much more quickly than it should have, and that really annoyed her. He stood watching the wound fascinated, which gave her time to pull her gun and silencer from the holster on her thigh.
Metal whispered against metal as he began to laugh maniacally. She'd only ever seen stuff like that in the movies, and it was oddly disturbing. When he finally looked at her again, his eyes were crazed and he stood, knife in hand, heaving. He laughed again when she sighted down a two-handed grip at him.
"You're heart stops beating, just like everyone elses."
He laughed, a short wicked burst "No way, I'm a god, tonight Cobra. Not even you can kill me."
She tried really hard not to snicker at him. She failed in that her mouth twitched at the corners. He grinned at her and hefted the knife. His body tensed, knees bent, arms moved away, feet went up onto the toes. As his left foot lifted, she pulled the trigger. It was like a slow motion scene in an action flick. Her took finished the step, and began a second when the bullet hit. She'd almost seen the tiny projectile fly through the air. Blood blossomed on his chest, as he fell to the cold wet asphalt of the alley. With her gun still pointed at him, she closed the distance and nudged him with her toe. His chest did not rise and the look of surprise on his face made her want to laugh.
She stood over him, while she removed the silencer and put it and the gun back in their holster. Now she just had to figure out what the hell to do with him. You don't just leave bodies lying around in alleyways. She cast her eyes around the dark corridor and found a dumpster. In it she found a roll of clear plastic. It would cover the smell of decaying human, and if she pushed him down under the refuse in the dumpster, he wouldn't be found until he hit the trash barge.
Working quickly she wrapped him tightly, and with the help of telekinesis lugged him to the dumpster. She tossed him in and followed quickly. Six black bags covered him nicely. She put the plastic roll back in the dumpster and went to stare at the bloodstain on the ground. Next to the dumpster was a barrel labeled non-potable water. She had no idea what would make water non-potable and why it would be in barrels, but it would have to do. She moved it over to the stain, placing it just up the alley so that it was slightly uphill, and using the knife she'd retrieved from Joel, punctured the bottom of the barrel, just a small hole. Brown water flowed from the hole and began to wash the stain away.
She was probably poisoning the entire city, but she didn't have room in her brain to worry about it. She looked down at herself, her dress was ruined, there was no going back inside for her shoes. She swore under her breath, she'd really liked the dress too. Now it was just a four hundred dollar rag.
Sighing, she moved to the opening of the alley and peeked around the corner. The valet was about three yards away whistling to himself. She concentrated hard on him, planting in his mind that he heard a noise near the alley and should turn to look. When he did, she beckoned to him. He ran quickly to her, looking distressed. She smiled winningly at him.
"I had some trouble with my boyfriend, he left on foot that way." She pointed away from the club. "I need my car." Her little clutch purse was still attached to her wrist and she dug the valet ticket and a twenty from inside. "Bring it here please?"
She gave him pleading eyes. "Ok, but are you sure you wouldn't rather I call like an ambulance or the police or something?"
She gave him her most innocent and winning smile. "No, no, I'm ok. He made off worse than me. Black eye and the inability to conceive."
He chuckled and took her ticket and the tip. "Okay, okay." He ran off to collect her car. While she waited, Ginnie tried to make some order out of her black and white mess. It was hopeless and as he pulled up, she was taking the pins from her hair and putting them in her purse. She gave him another twenty, and a smile, before climbing in and driving carefully away. The Domicile was the only place she wanted to be now.
The whiskey had calmed her nerves and killing the rat, and disposing of his body had cleared her mind. She had to tell Alec, the very next chance she had, she had to tell him.
"Do you know what is going to happen now, my little rat?"
One of her thugs had once asked her why she called them rats. She told him that a Cobra's least favorite prey was a rat and it would help to remind them just how low on the food chain they really were. The rat in question, nodded his head very slowly, as sweat broke out over his brow. He was feeling the effects of the E and terror at the same time. Very soon the feeling of invincibility would over take him and she needed to get him out of the club before that happened.
"Good, now you and I are going to leave the dance floor and go have a little talk outside."
He nodded again. She drew his hand around to his back and put it into a wrist lock as he began to move toward the side of the dance floor. Once there he jerked hard on his captive hand, and was almost too much for her to hold. Tightening the hold, she jerked just as hard on him and nearly toppled when he landed against her chest.
"We can do this two ways, rat. You can run and I get to hunt you down and you get to die nice and slow, or we can walk outside and you can die like a man. Either way you're going to die. A wise man once said. Do not run away from me, for you will only die tired. It's your choice, rat."
Ginnie let him go and he stood there a moment trying to decided what to do. That he didn't run immediately told her he was resigned to his fate. The dark head lowered and his shoulders slumped. She watched his back for a moment, and slowly the head raised and he finally turned to face her. His eyes were glassy and his breathing started to quicken. She was going to have a fight on her hands.
"Fine, bitch, you want to take this outside. Let's go. You can't hurt me now."
Damn. Oh well, she was armed, and he was not, well not that she had felt. She doubted he packed heat when going to do E. He was immortal for a few hours, who needed guns? She gave him a small smile and gestured for him to lead the way. They weaved through the crowd to the front door, had their hands stamped and were let loose on the night.
Ginnie pointed to the alley between Club E and the building next to it. He moved into the darkened corridor, stopping five feet from the wall that ended it. Ginnie stepped in something wet as she game to a stop eight feet from him, realizing that she'd left her shoes inside. Well that was alright, though the spike heels would have been a good asset in the fight.
He started to circle her. She'd been right, he had no weapons. Street rats pulled a weapon first thing, even doped up they used metal to help them fight. She circled with him, as she reached into the top of her dress to pull out the little knife clipped there. They moved around each other, like tigers in a cage, eyes wary fingers twitching. Well his twitched, hers unfolded the knife. Finally he lunged at her. Ginnie lept up, and over him, controlling her descent to light gently on the ground. It would have been pretty in the dress had she not been barefoot, in an alley with a man intent on killing her.
Stunned that he's missed, he spun around and caught the blade of her thrown knife in his shoulder. It buried itself to the hilt. She hadn't meant to throw it that hard. A howl of pain and rage tore from his throat as he reached up and jerked the knife from his flesh. Blood spurted out and flowed freely down his arm to drip rapidly on the ground. It slowed much more quickly than it should have, and that really annoyed her. He stood watching the wound fascinated, which gave her time to pull her gun and silencer from the holster on her thigh.
Metal whispered against metal as he began to laugh maniacally. She'd only ever seen stuff like that in the movies, and it was oddly disturbing. When he finally looked at her again, his eyes were crazed and he stood, knife in hand, heaving. He laughed again when she sighted down a two-handed grip at him.
"You're heart stops beating, just like everyone elses."
He laughed, a short wicked burst "No way, I'm a god, tonight Cobra. Not even you can kill me."
She tried really hard not to snicker at him. She failed in that her mouth twitched at the corners. He grinned at her and hefted the knife. His body tensed, knees bent, arms moved away, feet went up onto the toes. As his left foot lifted, she pulled the trigger. It was like a slow motion scene in an action flick. Her took finished the step, and began a second when the bullet hit. She'd almost seen the tiny projectile fly through the air. Blood blossomed on his chest, as he fell to the cold wet asphalt of the alley. With her gun still pointed at him, she closed the distance and nudged him with her toe. His chest did not rise and the look of surprise on his face made her want to laugh.
She stood over him, while she removed the silencer and put it and the gun back in their holster. Now she just had to figure out what the hell to do with him. You don't just leave bodies lying around in alleyways. She cast her eyes around the dark corridor and found a dumpster. In it she found a roll of clear plastic. It would cover the smell of decaying human, and if she pushed him down under the refuse in the dumpster, he wouldn't be found until he hit the trash barge.
Working quickly she wrapped him tightly, and with the help of telekinesis lugged him to the dumpster. She tossed him in and followed quickly. Six black bags covered him nicely. She put the plastic roll back in the dumpster and went to stare at the bloodstain on the ground. Next to the dumpster was a barrel labeled non-potable water. She had no idea what would make water non-potable and why it would be in barrels, but it would have to do. She moved it over to the stain, placing it just up the alley so that it was slightly uphill, and using the knife she'd retrieved from Joel, punctured the bottom of the barrel, just a small hole. Brown water flowed from the hole and began to wash the stain away.
She was probably poisoning the entire city, but she didn't have room in her brain to worry about it. She looked down at herself, her dress was ruined, there was no going back inside for her shoes. She swore under her breath, she'd really liked the dress too. Now it was just a four hundred dollar rag.
Sighing, she moved to the opening of the alley and peeked around the corner. The valet was about three yards away whistling to himself. She concentrated hard on him, planting in his mind that he heard a noise near the alley and should turn to look. When he did, she beckoned to him. He ran quickly to her, looking distressed. She smiled winningly at him.
"I had some trouble with my boyfriend, he left on foot that way." She pointed away from the club. "I need my car." Her little clutch purse was still attached to her wrist and she dug the valet ticket and a twenty from inside. "Bring it here please?"
She gave him pleading eyes. "Ok, but are you sure you wouldn't rather I call like an ambulance or the police or something?"
She gave him her most innocent and winning smile. "No, no, I'm ok. He made off worse than me. Black eye and the inability to conceive."
He chuckled and took her ticket and the tip. "Okay, okay." He ran off to collect her car. While she waited, Ginnie tried to make some order out of her black and white mess. It was hopeless and as he pulled up, she was taking the pins from her hair and putting them in her purse. She gave him another twenty, and a smile, before climbing in and driving carefully away. The Domicile was the only place she wanted to be now.
The whiskey had calmed her nerves and killing the rat, and disposing of his body had cleared her mind. She had to tell Alec, the very next chance she had, she had to tell him.