Quid Pro Bono

Cities don't sleep at night, not any more. Once, the world of man came to a near standstill when the sun went down. But now, with the harnessing of electricity, the temp may change, but it never stops. Man may think that this is just a way to make use of each and every hour, but in truth it's man's fear of what lay in the dark led him to find ways to banish it, to reclaim their world. They may feel safe in their brave new would, but the darkness is still there, waiting at the edges; ready to take those who wander too far from the light. London is a different place at night, more primal, full of those who seek to avoid the light.

For some this is a choice. For others, a necessity.

Dan could feel the Hunger rising up inside him like a caged beast, eager to escape. It had been almost a week since he'd last let it out, since he'd last embraced the darkness within his soul. He could still taste the thrill that came with the power it gave him, the rush of primal fire that reminded him just who and what he was. Looking out across his hunting ground, he could see his prey moving, their little, inconsequential lives little more than pale imitations of his own. So few of them knew what it was to be truly alive, not like Dan did.

The Hunger snarled, demanding a fresh sacrifice. Dan was eager to feed it, but he knew he had to be careful; the last thing he wanted was to be caged, to be put where he couldn't heed the Hunger. He knew he had to pick his next target carefully, otherwise those who hunted him would catch him. Still, it didn't take him long to select his prey for the evening. It was the contrast between her pale, almost translucent skin and her flame-red hair that first caught his eye, but a closer examination showed that she had other attributes that singled her out. It wasn't only blood that the Hunger sort, and it had been a while since Dan had sated its other desires. Tracking her was easy; the shadows were deep in this part of the city, and there were few of the ever present cameras that were the greatest threat to a hunter like Dan.

As ever, the hunt was almost as rewarding as the kill, so he followed her as she made her way through the city, pausing only to avoid one of the seemingly limitless number of black taxies that plied their trade at night. Something deep inside Dan told him that he was not the only hunter out that night, that there was something watching him as he stalked his prey. But the Hunger was louder, and would not be ignored, so he pushed the other voice as far back as he could. The imposing form of a Victorian era hospital loomed out of the night, a few patched of light shining out where people still worked. The Hunger snarled, pushing Dan forward. He drew his blade, the razor-sharp blade glistering in the pale moonlight as he edged forward towards his prey, savouring the final moments of the hunt.

The darkness moved, seeming to flow out of the shadows and engulfing Dan, choking him like a thick smoke while also lifting him up off of his feet and into the air. He could feel the rush of air around him, but he could neither see nor breath until he was thrown, bodily, on to the hospitals hard, debris strewn roof with enough force to expel what little air the was in his lungs. Gasping for breath, he stood, the Hunger howling like a wild beast that had been attacked as he looked around, the knife still clasped in his right hand.

“You've been naughty, Danny-boy.” A deep, brooding voice called to him across the still night air, “All those people you've killed? You've been very, very naughty, haven't you?”

“Who are you?” He shouted back, eyes darting from shadow to shadow as his mind work overtime to work out what had happened, “What do you want from me?”

“Me?” The voice was right behind him, “I don't want anything.”

Dan span round, slashing at the empty air with all his might. The attack, coupled with his still startled state of mind, unbalanced him and he fell to the ground, tasting blood as his teeth cut into his lower lip. Reacting like a cornered animal, he scrambled over to the protection of a low wall, holding the knife out in defiance of the dark.

“I'm not after you, Danny.” The voice sounded almost mocking now as it seemed to move about with impunity, “But you've broken the law, and those who I'm bound to serve take exception to that.”

“You're a cop!” Dan shouted, relieved, “There are rules if you're a cop! You can't do this to me; I have rights!”

“I'm not a copper, Danny.” The voice seemed to stop moving as the showed seemed to stretch across the roof, coalescing and rising up to form a vertical shadow, out of which stepped a pale man in his late twenties or early thirties, dressed in a black shirt and suit. His short was black hair was swept back in a widows peek. But it was his eyes that caught Dan's attention; they were completely black, with no of humanity.

“What are you?” Dan asked, frozen in place by terror.

“What am I?” The stranger asked, “I am that which you think you are. I am the whisper in the dark, the chill that runs down your spine when you feel someone watching you, even when you know you're alone.” there was a screeching sound, and without seeming to move, he was standing over Dan, a mocking smile on his thin lips, “I don't care for what you've done; this city and the people in it can all burn for all I care. But it's not about what you or I want, Danny; it's about what they want. And I'm sorry to say that they want you dead.”

Seemingly effortlessly, the stranger grabbed Dan by the throat and lifted him off the ground and carried him to the edge of the roof. Dan struck out at the arm holding him with one hand while the other held on with all his might. But the strangers arm was as hard and unmoving as iron.

“Who...” Dan gasped, his vision starting to go grey around the edges as his arms flailed desperately, “who are you?”

“Call me...” The man cocked his head to the side and grinned as he let go, “Jack.”

An ear-piercing scream filled the night as Dan fell ten stories strait down, followed by a dull thud as he hid the ground.

“Are the theatrics really necessary?” A woman's voice asked from the direction of a nearby stairwell.

“You said you wanted him dead.” the stranger asked, his eyes looking out across the city, “You didn't say how, so I decided to amuse myself.”

“I forget, sometimes, just how sick your sense of humour is.” the woman stepped out of the shadows into the moonlight, her flame-red hair pulled back tight while a grey trench-coat was wrapped tight around her body, “But then I guess that's just you.”

“I am what I am.” Jack turned and shot her an evil smile, “I've never apologised for that.”

“No, and I suppose that we should be grateful that at least these days we have you under control.” The woman sighed, “I'll see to it that the police find an appropriate suicide note in his flat, listing his crimes, and claiming that he couldn't go on any more with the guilt on his soul.”

“And I'm the one with the sick sense of humour.” Jack threw his head back and laughed, “You humans never cease to amaze me, Finch.”

“That's Dr Finch or Ma'am to you, creature.” The woman snapped, “You serve us, until we say otherwise; those are the words of the curse that bind you.”

“Yes, bound to serve until my so-called 'sins' are forgiven.” There was an mistakable edge to Jack's tone, “That curse is the only thing that stops me from draining every last drop of blood from that delicate little neck of yours.”

“Then it's just as well we keep you on a short leash then, isn't it?” Finch mocked him, knowing that there wasn't anything he could do to her but hurl snide remarks, “You owe London for what you did, Jack. For all those women you so brutally murdered. Even the ones we managed to keep secret.” She walked over to the man, close enough that she could feel the cold emanating from his body, “You're the last of your kind; a throwback to another age. Does it ever occur to you that maybe you should thank us for keeping your secret all these years?”

“I stand indebted to no man, or woman.” Jack stepped over the parapet and seemed to explode into a cloud of smoke that drifted away into the night, “Call me, when next you have need of me.”

The End