The Ouroboros Cycle, Book Two: A Cautionary Tale for Young Vampires. G.D. Falksen

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      “Why not find another?” Luka asked.

      “Well.…” Cat looked away for a moment before replying, “I could go south, set meself up wi’ an abbess in Whitechapel, only I donne want te move. I’ve taken a likin’ te the neighborhood. Got meself a nice garret room ’round the corner. I’d so hate te leave ’t.”

      “Mmm, and I suppose Whitechapel isn’t the best place to be these days,” Luka said. “The papers say there’s a second victim.”

      Cat looked at him, shook her head, and drank some more.

      “Maybe I shouldne go contradictin’ a gentleman such as yerself,” she said, “but there’s nothin’ new about us girls gettin’ attacked in the streets. Only this time, respectable folk ’re takin’ notice.” She waved the idea away with a flick of her hand. “Mind ye, give it a month an’ they’ll lose int’rest again.”

      She leaned forward toward Luka and beckoned to him with one delicate finger. As Luka leaned in, she looked at him, eyes aflame, and said:

      “Dead whores is only int’restin’ when they’re freshly butchered. An’ the livin’ ain’t worth a mention.”

      She sat back in her chair, holding her glass loosely in her hands, and smirked at him. Her eyes, far less mirthful, watched Luka carefully. She was acting cocky, but she was testing his reaction.

      “There speaks the voice of truth,” Luka said. “A voice that is sadly absent in much of this newspaper.” He looked at the paper and shook his head. “The Star. And with such a lofty name too.” He set the paper down and said, “Hmm. Well, let us be to business.”

      “Here?” Cat asked, looking around.

      “A different sort of business,” Luka said. He fished two gold sovereigns out of his pocket and placed them on the table in front of Cat. “For your assistance,” he said.

      Cat’s eyes fell upon the coins and very nearly bulged out of her head. She quickly snatched up the coins and clutched them tightly in her hand.

      “Jus’ wha’ are y’ expectin’ me te do?” she asked, watching him suspiciously.

      “Something unrelated to your current profession,” Luka replied. “And I am hiring you for…let us say the month, not the night.”

      “The month?” Cat asked.

      “Do you recall,” Luka said, “what I told that man Higgins in the alley regarding my purpose here?”

      “Wha’, ’bout how ye were the new boss an’ all?” Cat asked. “An’ how ye’ll kill any pimp or thief or mobsman who sets foot ’round here?” She drank a little more wine. “’Tis a tall order fer one man.”

      “Killing them all is not the problem,” Luka said.

      “Oh aye, as I saw,” Cat said. “But ye canne be everywhere a’ once, can ye?” She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward, one lock of curly hair falling across her face. As she pushed it away, she asked, “So ye want me te stand in the street an’ hollar if I see a gang come prancin’ up Perrott Street, is tha’ ’t?”

      “Easiest money you’ll ever make,” Luka said. “But that’s not all that I intend for you.”

      “Oh, an’ wha’ else?”

      “I need someone who can spread the word for me,” Luka replied. “I want you to speak to everyone you know. All the prostitutes, urchins, anyone you are in contact with. Make it known that I will pay for reliable information about any criminal activities in the area.”

      Cat shrugged and said, “I’ll tell ’em. Donne know if they’ll listen.”

      “They will,” Luka said, “when the money’s good and when the bodies begin to pile up. I also want you to tell the local prostitutes that they no longer owe any money or allegiance to their pimps or to the gangs that used to run them. From now on, I will be taking over their protection. Any man who strikes one of the local girls will be soundly beaten for the first offense. Killed for the second.” Luka grinned. “I am nothing if not merciful.”

      Cat shook her head at him.

      “Ye really are declarin’ war, ain’t ye?” she asked.

      “I am,” Luka answered. “And it is a war that I intend to win.”

      “Have ye any idea wha’ ye’re gettin’ y’self inte?” Cat asked. “A gang war ain’t pretty. ’Twill be bloody an’ people are gonne get hurt.”

      “I have fought in war before,” Luka said, “and in what the Spanish call guerrilla. I have no concerns. But I assure you, I will do all in my power to minimize the suffering of the locals. I intend to make this neighborhood a place where criminals fear to tread. Fear is a sure means of ensuring peace. The Romans understood that, and so do I.”

      “Are the rest o’ us te fear ye as well?” Cat asked. She studied his eyes carefully.

      “Only the wicked need fear me,” Luka said.

      “Only the wicked?” Cat asked. She fluttered her eyes and tossed her hair. “Oh, but ain’t I wicked as well? Corruptin’ honest men an’ leadin’ ’em inte sin?”

      “Men require no temptation to sin,” Luka said. “What they require is the strength of will to resist. Women as well, though it seems popular to forget it. Lust and violence are in our nature, and it is healthy to indulge them from time to time, provided one is not ruled by them.”

      “I’d never have guessed,” Cat said, laughing. “Ye seemed such a peaceful sort when ye were beatin’ a man te death fer me. Like a country parson.”

      “Looks can deceive,” Luka answered. “I assure you that beneath this genteel exterior, I am a brutal monster.”

      Cat laughed again and said, “Oh, we’ve monsters aplenty ’round here. Tho’ ’tis unusual te find a monster tha’ hunts monsters. I donne know wha’ te think.”

      “Does it frighten you?” Luka asked.

      Cat thought for a little while before she answered:

      “No, I donne think so. ’Tis a nice change from the usual lot. ’Sides, if ye’ve a mind te kill any fella as tries te take wha’s mine, who am I te complain?”

      Luka smiled and reached for the bottle.

      “More wine?” he asked.

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