Fun With Pestilence: The Fly
After her conversation with Damsel, The Fledgling made her way to the Skyline Apartments downtown. A mailbox conveniently revealed Paul's apartment to be #510, and the door was found unlocked.
Convenience stopped there: Paul was dead, cold dead on his kitchen's floor.
She crouched and touched the body lightly, feeling the cold, clammy skin, scenting the sickly sweat of disease. Dead end.
Can't go back.
Look up.
She did, and noticed the blinking light of the answering machine.
Hi, Paul. It's Hannah. [cough] Just callin' to see how you are. I hope I didn't give you what I've got... uh, I feel like crap. Actually, I need to ask you a favor. [cough] Could you pick me up some cold medicine at the store? I hate to bother you, but... I can't seem to get out of bed. The code on my door is 1203. [cough, wheeze] Hey, listen, I, uh... had a really good time the other night. Maybe we could do it again sometime? Sorry... I'm rambling. Okay, bye.[beep]
The Fledgling looked down at the body. At the extended hand.
He died while trying to pick up the phone. A loose end, a broken connection to be mended.
Travel higher. Connect the pathways.
Up one floor, guided by the mailboxes once more. Hanna's apartment. Obedient door, opening to the touch of code and press of buttons. Scent of disease in the air, but not of death.
Good.
Bad.
Open the bedroom door.
"Paul, is that...? Hey, you're not Paul!" The young woman frowned, drawing the bedsheets tighter over herself, coughing and wheezing. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"
Paul was blinded by the light. "I'm a friend of Paul's. He just wanted me to come and check up on you." Not a lie: the young man probably would have liked that.
"He did? That's so sweet." More coughing, and a weak smile. "He's such a nice guy. Is everything okay with him?"
Let the veils of madness paint you a vision of Paul! "You sound pretty sick, Hannah. What have you got?" The Fledgling's voice was a low drone, reaching into mind and soul to coax out answers.
Hannah hesitated a moment, then spoke in a weak voice. "I don't really know. I - I've taken all kinds of medicine, but I can't seem to get rid of it. I - I feel like I've got a fever and a sore throat. I'm feeling so weak... can't seem to get out of bed." A blink, and confusion. "What day is it? I - I can't remember."
"Nevermind that now." The vampire shook her head slowly. "Where you were touched by pestilence?"
Hannah blinked confused. "Well I think... I got sick from one of my... clients." She coughed again. "I was feeling fine until I... I uh... I saw her a few days ago."
Peddling of own flesh. "Tell me of your... client. Did she give you a name?"
"She was just a woman who called. She, uh... she found my ad in the newspaper. Usually only do business with referrals, you know, but she was offerin' a lot of money." The girl stopped, wheezed, struggling for breath. "Her name was Jezebel, Jezebel Locke. I'm usually not too good with names, you know, but hers was so strange... I can't seem to get it out of my head."
Did you enjoy your dance, little fly? "So the spider paid to bring you to her parlour. Where is this Black Widow?"
"She had a room at the Empire Hotel. I can't remember the number. She took me there, and..." She smiled a bit, then coughed. "To tell you the truth, I don't really remember a whole lot about that night, you know. Everything's a little blurry, you know. I mean... I'm not usually, you know, into women, but I remember feeling so attracted to her. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen..."
The Fledgling watched as Hannah laid back fully and closed her eyes.
One raspy breath.
Two.
Three.
Silence.
"Go and buzz in the great beyond, little fly: may your wings take you to higher places." Angels weep not over the spoiled soul of a paid seductress. "Farewell."
Convenience stopped there: Paul was dead, cold dead on his kitchen's floor.
She crouched and touched the body lightly, feeling the cold, clammy skin, scenting the sickly sweat of disease. Dead end.
Can't go back.
Look up.
She did, and noticed the blinking light of the answering machine.
Hi, Paul. It's Hannah. [cough] Just callin' to see how you are. I hope I didn't give you what I've got... uh, I feel like crap. Actually, I need to ask you a favor. [cough] Could you pick me up some cold medicine at the store? I hate to bother you, but... I can't seem to get out of bed. The code on my door is 1203. [cough, wheeze] Hey, listen, I, uh... had a really good time the other night. Maybe we could do it again sometime? Sorry... I'm rambling. Okay, bye.[beep]
The Fledgling looked down at the body. At the extended hand.
He died while trying to pick up the phone. A loose end, a broken connection to be mended.
Travel higher. Connect the pathways.
Up one floor, guided by the mailboxes once more. Hanna's apartment. Obedient door, opening to the touch of code and press of buttons. Scent of disease in the air, but not of death.
Good.
Bad.
Open the bedroom door.
"Paul, is that...? Hey, you're not Paul!" The young woman frowned, drawing the bedsheets tighter over herself, coughing and wheezing. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"
Paul was blinded by the light. "I'm a friend of Paul's. He just wanted me to come and check up on you." Not a lie: the young man probably would have liked that.
"He did? That's so sweet." More coughing, and a weak smile. "He's such a nice guy. Is everything okay with him?"
Let the veils of madness paint you a vision of Paul! "You sound pretty sick, Hannah. What have you got?" The Fledgling's voice was a low drone, reaching into mind and soul to coax out answers.
Hannah hesitated a moment, then spoke in a weak voice. "I don't really know. I - I've taken all kinds of medicine, but I can't seem to get rid of it. I - I feel like I've got a fever and a sore throat. I'm feeling so weak... can't seem to get out of bed." A blink, and confusion. "What day is it? I - I can't remember."
"Nevermind that now." The vampire shook her head slowly. "Where you were touched by pestilence?"
Hannah blinked confused. "Well I think... I got sick from one of my... clients." She coughed again. "I was feeling fine until I... I uh... I saw her a few days ago."
Peddling of own flesh. "Tell me of your... client. Did she give you a name?"
"She was just a woman who called. She, uh... she found my ad in the newspaper. Usually only do business with referrals, you know, but she was offerin' a lot of money." The girl stopped, wheezed, struggling for breath. "Her name was Jezebel, Jezebel Locke. I'm usually not too good with names, you know, but hers was so strange... I can't seem to get it out of my head."
Did you enjoy your dance, little fly? "So the spider paid to bring you to her parlour. Where is this Black Widow?"
"She had a room at the Empire Hotel. I can't remember the number. She took me there, and..." She smiled a bit, then coughed. "To tell you the truth, I don't really remember a whole lot about that night, you know. Everything's a little blurry, you know. I mean... I'm not usually, you know, into women, but I remember feeling so attracted to her. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen..."
The Fledgling watched as Hannah laid back fully and closed her eyes.
One raspy breath.
Two.
Three.
Silence.
"Go and buzz in the great beyond, little fly: may your wings take you to higher places." Angels weep not over the spoiled soul of a paid seductress. "Farewell."