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careful. Or at least I was careful on the ride back to my apartment. There was
nothing I enjoyed more than riding the major roads and back streets of the city
at top speeds. Whenever I left Morpheus, I tended to tone it down a bit.
Operating heavy machinery does not mix well with opium. It left me wishing I
had scored a second cup of coffee before I left Chaz and Pietra to their
devices. But even if I had managed to get it to Morpheus’ place without spillage,
it would only have made me drugged and wide-awake. So I took my time on
the way home and was extra careful.
    I left my bike in the unofficial
parking garage of my apartment building and went to take the elevator to the
second floor. It was unofficial, because as far as the city was concerned, the
space leased by the occupants of the warehouse was strictly for business use.
No one officially lived here, yet all of the spaces were actually
apartments. I wondered how much of a pay-off the landlord had to make to
inspectors each year. It wasn’t my problem. I more than covered my share of the
bribe money with the exorbitant prices I paid on my lease.
    It was my lucky day. The elevator
was functional. It was a crapshoot as to whether it worked from one day to the
next. I frowned as I stepped inside and the doors closed behind me. There was a
tangy, metallic taste to the stale air of the freight box lumbering its way to
the second floor. It was subtle, so I barely noticed it at first. I knew the
smell for what it was. The doors opened on my floor and the smell was stronger.
A look down verified what I already knew. Blood.
    It was streaked in spots across
the floor, drawing a trail around the corner up ahead. My apartment door was
around that corner. I stepped out of the freight elevator and moved forward
slowly, reaching at the same time to the middle of my back where my weapon was
tucked into my belt. I didn’t carry a gun. The things I dealt with were not the
type to be taken down with bullets––not even silver ones.
    Before I hit the corner of the
hall, my fist was gripped tight to nine inches of layered carbon steel, its
blue-black, wavy pattern glinting iridescent colors in the faded light of the
hallway. It was a special blade given to me by Father David. The grip was
smooth oak from an ancient, lightning-struck tree. A band of interlaced silver
and gold circled the handle, carved with runes from a language so old that he
couldn’t even tell me what they said. Silver crosses made up the guard,
protruding between the blade and the grip on either side. At the cross point on
both sides, a Seal of Solomon gleamed gold in contrast to the cross.
    Father David told me it was one of
a set of ancient blades specially made by the church for their elite demon
slayers. I just called it my “Companion” and left it at that. My Companion has
taken good care of me over the years.
    I paused at the corner, preparing
myself for whatever I might find. The edges of the opium still tickled a fog
across my mind. That irritated me. This was no time for my senses and reflexes
to be dulled. The sound of the freight elevator kicking into slow gear made me
jump, as it started to move its way back down to the first floor. I didn’t know
whether or not it was headed back up to my floor, but I couldn’t take the
chance of being sandwiched between two unknown and potentially unfriendly
fronts. I had to move now.
    I did look before I leapt. A quick
glance around the corner gave me a clear shot of a semi-conscious man leaned up
against the wall across from my door. It seemed okay for the moment. I stepped
cautiously around the corner, my Companion held in front of me. My eyes checked
the shadows. There was nothing. I went to reach out with my other senses, when
the man turned his eyes toward me. They were glazed with pain and I could tell
he was hanging onto to consciousness by a thread.
    The blood trail stopped where he
sat and was coalescing into a small pool beneath him. There was a