Wordlessly, you rose. There was nothing to say. You had all that you came for… the next time would be the last time.

“Leaving so soon?” Asked the man who rested his weary arms on the slick sheen of mahogany wood, “It is such a shame, we were having a nice time and you know it’s not often I get asked to go on a date.”

You weren’t sure if the glint in his chestnut eyes was one of sadness or one that warned of danger. Shrugging, you turned to leave before returning your gaze to meet his, “I have work in the morning.” Begrudgingly, you produce a lopsided smirk, silently hoping that would be the end of the exchange.

Studying his plump fingers with a strange intensity, “I’m starting to think that you might know more about me than you let on.” He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth, as if proud of drawing this conclusion.

Unable to bite your tongue, you snap, “Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?” With that parting gift you march out of the posh restaurant. It was a place that stunk of money, yet in places a certain frayed tackiness peeked through. From your research the reservation lists for Dama Dama were almost two years long, and you hadn’t known the sleazy fellow for that long.

Restraining a smile from gracing your lips, you slid on your mask- a face that warned, a face that gave no clues. Hailing a cab, you barked out a simple instruction, one that can never be repeated lest the life of the driver be in peril. Hearing the slick road slide under the wheels, you let your eyes twinkle briefly. Reaching into your bag you pull out a mobile, with a cracked face from months of abuse. You knew the model and that it had only been released that year. Tapping the screen tentatively you watched it light up at such a gentle touch, skillfully unlocking the device you disabled the tracking app.

Never let yourself be caught by a fool, even you can be that fool.

You could imagine his panic as he realizes that both his phone and wallet had been stolen. He could try in vain to get hold of you, but that would be impossible with the wrong number. A low chuckle finally escaped your lips causing the elderly driver to look at you through the review mirror, catching their faded gaze you slowly shook your head. There would be no more warnings.

As your sharp picked up the revolting sound of saliva being gulped, a melancholic tear landed hollowly. That solitary tear led the way for millions of other spilled diamond jewels, catching in the weak beams of diluted nectar. Casting an eerie glow in the concrete towers and paving slabs. It seemed as though the world was lamenting for a scene that is yet to pass.

“Stop!” You slam your fist violently on the taxi’s backseat, a small flurry of dancers leapt gracefully upwards, twirling dizzily before slumping down. Shrilly screeching the breaks frantically wrestled with the wheels causing them to momentarily lose purchase, skidding down the road before lurching painfully back. Tossing a handful of change onto the seat you just vacated, you fled the taxi.

If you weren’t always watching, you would never have seen the stalking Mercedes that lurked in the shadows. The first time you clocked the smart obsidian paintwork, you thought nothing of it, but after the third time you knew.

You knew who that car belonged to.

You knew this town; you knew its secrets. They were a stranger… an outsider.

Nimbly, you darted up an alley, one that lead to a dead-end. A trick you had used before. The deluge let you go, tracing your smooth skin with longing fingers and soaking into your neatly done hair. Its tingling sigh of want ruffled the loose edges of fabric. No one could have what they wanted.

Slowing, you let yourself merge with the shifting tourmaline chiffon. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you tried to still your heaving chest. In a lull in the weather heavy feet pounded and clanged over a metal covering. Soon the whistling came back in full force masking any other sounds that were generated in the alley.

Pulling your curtains closed a fraction, you ensured that no gleam of frost would be seen. As the unknown figured brushed past, you sucked in sharply through your teeth, you were being stalked by the potbellied man. The scent of tabaco, pinewood and wine trailed dutifully after him in a nauseating wake. Still dressed to the nines he reached the end of the path… literally and figuratively.

Tilting your head a fraction, you picked up the faint asthmatic wheeze. A wheeze that you had not encountered before. If you had, you would be able to pull it from the bank of relevant sounds. This dying tea kettle would not be around long enough to become acquainted with you. Swiftly, the wheeze drowned out into a gurgle. Death would always be alacritous to that call, sweeping its scythe across the living-dead pulling the soul away with a brief rattling fight.

Whoever had followed, now lay in a shallow pool of memories, a star of mortality embedded itself in a new night sky.

Your target tensed, inching around to face his escape. Only to come face to face with his date. “I guess work came early,” you reveal your ivory teeth in a predatory snarl.

His features contorted in confusion, “I thought you worked as a freelance photographer and part-time in the supermarket?”

“I guess not,” padding menacingly towards the businessman. You could see the fear gripping his soul in a tight fist, gradually suffocating his senses, “You might want to retain some awareness.” You raked him with a condescending glare.

“You…you took my phone?”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Yes...” A childish squeak clambered from his gluttonous lips

Laughing lowly, “I took more than your phone.”

“You did?” He seemed almost incredulous that you were the same person that he had enjoyed a meal with merely an hour ago.

Through pursed lips you hummed, tossing down the thieved items at his feet; observing how they tossed restlessly before landing with a muted splash. “Why are you giving them back to me?” Your eyes hardened into slabs of slate, disapproving of his character.

“So many questions,” following the line between the blurred corner of his lips to his ear your frigid fingertip felt every blemish.

He seemed enchanted as he leaned into your touch, muttering, “My friend is coming, left the car just after me.”

Leaning in closer, trying not to gag at his rotten breath, “Oh? I’m afraid your friend has already met their maker.”

“Where did your pretty clothes go?” He mused, not registering the news you had just shared.

“Pretty clothes are not for killing in,” you let your breath fan across his lips. Flicking your gaze down you watched his light pink tongue moisten his drooping fatty lips. Anticipating a loving kiss, that would never come, he snaked one branch-like arm around your waist. You matched the gesture, grazing over his left side undoing the fine stitches with ease. Leading him to believe that it was your proximity that was the cause for the puckering of his pale flesh.

Temporarily, air forgot how to enter and leave the cave, hitching and catching on the sloping tunnel, as an exquisite nail inched upwards. So lost in the moment, he didn’t feel the pattering of crimson beads slithering down his flank.

Pressing in closer you squeezed any remaining space dry of air, his pudgy fist tightened against your t-shirt. Adjusting your stance, a fraction he gasped, as warm metal tucked itself in between rails of cartilage and bone. Tunneling deeper it found what it came for, a skilled flick and rich rivers of garnet were unearthed.

Tumbling excitedly down the polished bedrock, the rivers paused shivering at the entrance, before the pressure forced the molecules outside. “Pleasure doing business with you,” you sibilated, as you withdrew your tarnished blade. Still propped against you the deadweight whistled slightly as the last inhale petered out anxiously, pushing him away he fell to the ground. Joining his possessions, you thought about the sound he made as he landed, it reminded you of a watermelon being smashed followed by a sickening squelch.

Wiping your trusted companion on the back of his trousers, you spun it once around your fingers. Without a single glance back, you strode to retrieve your shuriken from the sticky grasp of the child that was long forgotten.

No one would know of the shadow of the night, the assassin of the new dawn.