Prologue

I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him I was going to murder him, and I wished it to be a particularly bloody death.

The short, Asian man regarded me with skepticism as I strolled into his shop, this pale stranger with a very threatening air about him. I glanced around his store and knitted my hands behind my back, pensively surveying the collection of weapons his shelves contained. Everything from shortened swords to sai and cruelly serrated knives graced the displays, but while each piece was a masterful work of art, none of them held my attention more than the katanas I spied in the back. I drifted to them as if being summoned.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked, his pulse quickening.

The corner of my mouth curled upward in a grin. "No, I am merely browsing," I said without making eye contact. Redirecting my attention to the Japanese steel, I closed the distance and became lost in admiration. Somehow, I knew I would not be leaving his shop without a new addition to my collection.

I am not certain what compelled me into the store in the first place. I already possessed a full arsenal of swords and knives back at the coven, all utilized with skill and precision as I wreaked havoc upon Philadelphia. I plunged each into mortal and immortal alike, licking the blades clean as I conducted the dark orchestra which was my life. They were more than weapons to me. They were aides and associates; trusted confidantes who made up for the short list of friends an assassin often possesses. Perhaps this is why I felt inclined to procure another sword. I was in search of a new companion.

My blue eyes scanned each katana behind the protection of my sunglasses. "Fine blades you have here," I said, breaking the silence. "The hands which crafted these are quite talented."

The man emerged from behind the counter, compelled by my compliment. As he walked toward me, I mused on the mortal ego, wondering if humans realized how much of an Achilles heel it could be. He failed to notice me smirk as his eyes surveyed his wares, arms folded across his chest. "Yes, I made them," he said. "The knives and other weapons, I have shipped in, but these..." He pointed. "These are mine."

"You are truly gifted." I followed his gaze to the wall. Lifting a hand, I hesitated and spared him only a quick glance. "Might I examine them?"

He nodded. "Yes, you can."

"Thank you." I reached for the first katana, plucking it from the shelf. My hands cradled the weapon while I studied the sheath, my gaze directed immediately to the kanji painted under a picture of a dragon. "What does it say?" I asked.

"It is a blessing to the warrior who uses it."

"Fascinating." Taking hold of the sword's hilt, I tugged the sheath off with all the reverence of an acolyte handling a sacred text. It slid free with the proper amount of resistance and its steel shined in the light once exposed to view. "Masterful indeed." I placed the lacquered wood onto an adjacent counter and flicked a finger across its edge to test its sharpness. Raising the sword, I shut one eye and peered down the length of its blade. "And quite sharp, I can tell. Who taught you your craft?"

"I learned from a master. He made me his apprentice because he believed it was my calling." He nodded. "For many years, I studied, until I was told where The Fates wanted me to be."

"And The Fates wished you to grace Philadelphia with your talent?"

He smiled. "The Fates have mysterious ways."

"Apparently." I sheathed the sword and placed it back on the shelf. Continuing my examination, I took care to admire each weapon, giving it proper deference before moving on to the next. I did not pull any others down, though. Not until I saw the one I knew I was destined to have.

My hands reached for it slowly, as if afraid to do my new friend harm. "This one is... astonishing," I said, finally breaking the silence which had settled between us. Wonder painted itself across my countenance. I studied the piece, eyes fixed first on the red and black weaving which adorned the hilt. The sheath itself was fully black, save but for a red braid tied close to a polished brass tsuba etched with the two halves of a yin-yang. I slid its cover off with more than a trifle amount of haste, eager to examine the blade. "And just as I thought I owned the finest pieces of steel ever crafted, I come upon this sword."

The man hesitated. I held the weapon out in front of me to peer down its sharpened edge, ignoring him. It was as though it had been made for me - the hilt rested perfectly in the palm of my hand, with just the right balance, and the blade length could not have been more perfect. When I swung it to the side, I felt it cut through the air as though it could rend the very atoms of the wind. "I wish to procure this one," I said, my eyes shifting back to the shop owner.

He swallowed hard. "I cannot sell it," he said, with a noticeable amount of trepidation present in his voice.

I perked an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

His gaze shot first to the weapon, then back to me. Clearing his throat, the shop owner spoke again, this time with more confidence, even if he knew his words would displease me. "This one is part of my personal collection. It was made to be given to the right person, and I do not think you are that person."

Our eyes met in a seconds-long stalemate before a laugh bubbled up from my throat. "Not the correct person? Pray tell, what in God's name are you talking about?"

He sighed. "There are elements in this sword I haven't used in any other. The Fates themselves... commissioned it. They gave me the instructions for it in a dream. I saw its owner as somebody with a different heart, a warrior with a different spirit. You are not that warrior."

'Oh, this simply is too delicious.' My lips spread in a menacing smile, the gaze behind my dark sunglasses turning sinister as I allowed my fangs to slip from their slumber. Stalking forward, I moved like a cat inching toward its prey. "Not that warrior? And what sort of warrior did you have in mind? A champion or a savior, perhaps? Maybe one destined to save the world of evils such as me."

The man stumbled backward, fear written on his face as I swung his precious sword around with a capricious air. "I am a killer, but you already knew this, I am assuming, for you claimed to know the heart of he who stands before you. I drain the lives of you wretched beings and bathe in rivers of blood Elizabeth Bathory could not have imagined in her most twisted fantasies. I am the devil himself. Then again, you knew this, too."

"Yes." The word floated past his lips weakly, which only served to excite me more. "Fates, it is you. I have seen you in my dreams, you are the demon who..."

I offered him no further time before advancing. With a quick thrust of the sword, I impaled him through the stomach, the momentum of the weapon continuing until it severed his spinal column. I smirked. "The one who shall end your life?" I asked. Twisting the blade, I laughed in a much more sadistic manner, watching his eyes widen, knowing his knees would fail him soon. Crimson trickled from the wound I inflicted, which whetted my desire to see more. "Consider your dreams prophetic and me your angel of death."

Extracting the blade, I flicked it to the side and watched him crumple to the ground.
The sight of his blood splattered across the wall provoked a gasp from another being's lips, drawing my eyes to its source. My tongue slid across my fangs as I lowered my sword, drinking in the sight of a frightened Asian woman I assumed was kith and kin to the swordsmith. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Her small hands rose to cover her gaping mouth. "Madame, allow me to make your acquaintance," I said, bowing with a flourish and keeping my eyes fixed on her. "My name is Flynn, and you have the honor of being my second victim for the evening."

Whether or not she understood what I said, she heard the tone of my voice clear enough to interpret my intent. Her black hair swept around her shoulder as she turned fast, dashing for a room in the back of the shop while leaving the door ajar. I laughed and leaped over the counter separating us, moving far faster in my pursuit. Before she was able to reach the exit, I had an arm wrapped around her torso and her back pressed against my body. She let out a surprised yelp.

I drew in a deep breath. Her exotic scent overwhelmed me, teasing me with the temptation to make her more than a meal. My fangs ached for purchase on her skin, though, and their siren song could not be ignored. Lips grazing her ear, I hummed and whispered, "Relax, my dear, and embrace death." I plunged my fangs into her neck and drank deeply, savoring her with each mouthful I imbibed.

Her blood was warm and her taste just as tantalizing as her scent. Within moments, her heart ceased beating and she fell to my feet, just another notch on an already long belt. I shut my eyes while wiping her remnant from my mouth and savored the afterglow. "Of all the mortals I have consumed, you were one of the more delightful ones." Opening my eyes, I peered down at her. "Join your husband in the afterlife now."

As I turned around, I clutched my new companion in one hand, feeling a symbiotic relationship forming between man and weapon. The swordsmith's words resonated in my thoughts, provoking a scoff at his insistence I was not meant to own it. I had it now, did I not? And I intended to put it to good use.

Some days later, I became ensnared in my own date with destiny. Even as I confronted my vampire nature and my mortal side rose once more to claim its fate, the sword remained by my side. The bloody coincidences of The Fates; I had only begun walking the path, but even then I knew I would never understand them.

Especially when they nearly took my watcher from me.