“Mayor Roberts,” Beckett grinned baring his fangs in a feigned cheerful greeting. “It's been a long time.”
Two men stood in the doorway, one in his late forties, tall and stocky with what was left of his hair greying at the ends. He had carried himself with authority right up until the moment his eyes fell on the room's only occupant, at which point somehow he appeared to shrink back as if unwilling to be present. Accompanying him was an equally tall, but thin man, roughly in his mid-twenties. His air suggested he was a no nonsense man. A career and social climber with ambition. Beckett liked ambition; it tasted rich.
The Mayor and his young aide both stared, wide-eyed with shock at the sight of the tall, slender figure seated so self-assuredly in the Mayor's office. Mayor Roberts recognised him immediately, it was hardly surprising, as he had obtained his elevated position largely through Beckett's intervention. Opposition candidates had frequently unexpectedly stepped down or even gone missing only to turn up months later, burnt almost to the point of being unrecognisable. Of course, burning had been necessary; it was the only satisfactory way to hide the telltale bite marks and lack of blood. The Chief of Police had instructed the Coroner to declare their deaths accidental or to be murder by person or persons unknown, but of course, the Chief himself was also in Beckett's pocket. Now, however, he lay dead, dumped by Brendon in the basement of his own house. It seemed a safe enough option; he lived alone, who would find him? Who would even look for him?
Only the Mayor's aide had no clue as to the identity of the strange man who had breached the security surrounding the Mayor. He didn't recognise him, but then, he had never seen or met him. Neither would he as within moments of arriving, he made the biggest and last mistake of his life. Reaching up to open the blinds and get a better view of the man, the aide didn't even see Beckett leave the desk chair but he was on him in an instant. Grabbing the aide's hair with his right hand, Beckett curled his arm around the man's right side and gripped the back of his jacket. Pulling his body towards him but his head back, so exposing his neck, Beckett spared a fleeting cruel grin for the Mayor before opening wide and sinking his fangs deep into the young man's throat. Pulling back, his mouth still closed, he tore a deep gash as the man writhed in agony beneath him. Raising his head once more, the vampire laughed harshly as Mayor Roberts visibly paled and swung away, eyes tightly closed and hand clamped firmly over his mouth. The tearing at his throat was meant as a visual deterrent, the blood, torn flesh and sinew a ghastly sight and a clear warning not to disobey, but now open Beckett leaned over the young man again, with pleasure gleaming in his eyes as he cupped his mouth over the gaping wound as sounds of pain and desperate cries were reduced to mere gurgling and the bubbling of rising blood. A surprisingly little amount flowed down his chin, dripping onto the carpet as the aide sagged, near death in his grip. Using the man's own shirt to wipe his chin before dropping him, Beckett grinned with sadistic pleasure at the sight of the Mayor, still turned away, clutching his stomach and mouth and trying hard to wipe the horrific sight from his memory.
“I don't usually eat so late,” Beckett chuckled callously as he licked his lips. “But everyone likes a late-night snack sometimes.”
“You evil bastard!” The Mayor choked out still unable to turn around.
“And your point is?” Beckett shrugged as he examined his nails distractedly.
“I thought you were dead!”
“You know, Chief Callum said exactly the same thing before I killed him. He did not taste good,” Beckett added, relishing the look of horror and distaste on Roberts' face.
Slowly, deliberately, Beckett rounded the desk again, once more taking a seat in the comfortable leather recliner and settling back.
“Why did you kill him?” the Mayor choked out as he followed him to the desk, trying to avoid glancing at the lifeless body of his young aide. “The Chief, I mean.”
“I have a new man in mind,” Beckett played with a pencil before looking the Mayor in the eyes to gauge his reaction. “My Second, Brendon.”
“You want that psychopath as the Chief of Police?” Roberts gasped.
The words were out of his mouth before he even realised what he was saying and more importantly, to whom he was saying it. Beckett offered a broad grin in reply as he leaned back, extending his long slender legs, finally settling them on the edge of the desk.
“Shall I tell him you said that?” his eyes twinkled wickedly as he turned the pencil in his fingers.
“No!” Mayor Roberts waved his hands urgently in front of him. “No, Master Beckett, please! He'll kill me!”
“Indeed,” Beckett nodded thoughtfully. “But I do already have someone to take over your position.”
“No, Master Beckett, please, I can be useful to you.”
“Yes, you can,” Beckett swung his legs down from the desk and leaned forward and tucked the sharp point of the pencil under Roberts' chin. “And you can start now. Two of my Coven are downstairs… sleeping. I want a secure area where all of us can rest during the day and go completely undisturbed. Or, my immoral friend, you will find me disturbing you and…” Beckett's gaze drifted meaningfully to fall on the Mayor's aide now lying dead on the floor before turning back. “Trust me, you won't enjoy it one little bit.”
“Of… of course,” Roberts nodded. “Consider it done.”
“Good,” Beckett nodded. “You can escort me, I'm growing tired myself. Also, correct me if I'm wrong, you have a small vault here, is that right?”
“Yes, Master, it's not used often, just for documents in transit.”
“How big is it?”
“Not very big, Master, just four feet square.”
Beckett's smile broadened to its widest yet as he pictured it used to house Patrick, crammed into that tiny space, unable to stand, or stretch out in any direction.
“Empty it and remove any shelves, I want it ready by sundown,” he sneered at the idea. “I have a prisoner.”
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