Always On

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. I've seen that sight so often now, that it no longer attracts even the slightest glance, let alone inspires the awe it once did. In the Country that never sleeps, the grind is the only thing that matters.

I'm a ghoul. A nickel and dimer scraping the bottom of every barrel for whatever scrap the heavy hitters leave behind. In my world, down among the throwaways and never-should-have-beens, it's every poor schlub for himself. For me though, that all changed a week ago, when a fish so large it could've sunk the Titanic, fell into my rank lap.

"You're Gorman Reach, I presume?" the lady said in a voice that oozed high society. I would've took her from one of the nations if this had been my first day on the job.

"That's what it says on the door. What can I do for you, miss," I say, sounding like a real asshole.

"Well, Mr. Reach, and it's Mrs. by the way, I'm looking for someone and I'd like to keep this business as discreet as possible. Which is why I came to your door in the first place. No offense, Mr. Reach, but it doesn't look like you draw much attention to yourself," she answered, putting me right square in my place.

"I find the occasional someones," I replied. "Why don't you have a seat and tell me the story."

She sits, smoothly placing her purse on the empty chair next to her at the same time crossing her long, muscular legs. I take her for an athlete or former one who has stayed in the habit of keeping in shape. This woman could cause a lot of damage in the right circles. Being a ghoul, I don't get too caught up in those kinds of things.

"Where should I begin," she asks.

Before I reply, I stare off to the right of her slightly, scratching my undulating chin and trying to look deep in thought.

Finally, I tell her, "Let's try from the beginning."

In spite of herself, a smile tugs at the corner of her full lips. She really would be trouble if I were anything else. She lets out a long sigh and crumples a little, as though something that was holding her up had been lessened by a degree.

"Well, I'm sure you hear stories like this all the time, but a long time ago in a different life, I gave birth to a baby boy. I was alone and poor, dirt poor, and the father was not. What he gave me to get rid of the child, laid the foundation for what I am today. I'm ashamed of it now, but I took his money and built and empire while God only knows what that poor child went through during the same time."

I stop her there and say, "I'm gonna ask, knowing full well you're probably not going to tell me, but who is the father?"

"Vyren Montclair," she says matter-of-factly and my jaw hits the table. "That's discomfiting, Mr. Reach, could you please reattach your jaw?

I mumble an apology, the best I can do with half my speaking apparatus sitting on top of my faux Mahagony desk.

"Vyren Montclair of the Montclair Vampire Group?" I ask incredulously.

She nods almost imperceptibly.

After putting my jaw back in place, I interlace my fingers in front of me and recline back in my chair, creating some distance between us. As I take stock of what she just told me, I let out a quiet whistle.

The Montclair Vampire Group is one of the most powerful organizations in the world. They're the only Vampire nation capable of operating in this land of the perpetual magic hour. It's never dark enough for any of the others, even the oldest of them and that fact has put a target on their backs. Whatever the reason may be, it is a highly sought after industrial trade secret. Wars have literally been fought over it.

"I should ask you to leave immediately," I say.

"But you haven't and I don't think you're going to," she replies.

Almost conspiratorially, I lean forward to say, "You want me to find your long-lost son, the half human bastard of Vyren Montclair, second in line to the Montclair family corporation and fortune. The only vampire nation in the Country and one of the most powerful to ever exist. A child he already knows about and has asked you to get rid of. That is what you're asking me to do?"

This time she definitely smiles but it is a hard and cold attempt. Then, her deep brown eyes lock on mine as she answers, "Yes and for a shit-load of money."