The Bloody Shaft of St. Valentine

In the modern world of online dating, falling in love can be as quick and easy as finding the right pair of shoes in a discount department store, or eating a perfectly cooked waffle. The same can be said for falling out of love, creating the need for quick and easy exit strategies.

Thus the assassins' guild was born.

While hitmen can be hired anytime during the course of the year, jobs seem to pile up around around the holidays. This kind of influx of opportunities necessitated a way to distribute business equally among hitmen, no matter how long their rap sheet or impressive their resume. The guild also provides a convenient mode for clients to find the right man for their hit, at fair but competitive rates.

For most hitmen, being a part of the guild was essential.

Ivan was not like most hitmen.

He was called 'The Bloody Shaft of St. Valentine', and didn’t need the guild to find a job, though he often found that he had so many job offers that it would be helpful to hire a secretary. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many people who were willing to work for a vampire, so he was forced to compromise.

Rather than learn how to use Calendly or Hubspot Meetings, Ivan decided that he would simplify his schedule by becoming extremely selective in his client vetting process. Having been in the business for a few millennia, he had learned how to choose the best kinds of jobs for his particular needs. After all, men have to eat, even the undead ones.

Ivan took one long drag on his cigarette as he stood on his hotel balcony, his mind focused on the letters he had tucked into his coat pocket.

He’d received them a week apart. The first was very professional, asking Ivan if he would accept a job in the near future, and if it would be acceptable for him to arrive at a certain location in Romania in around two months time, during St. Valentine's Day, when his particular set of skills was in high demand. They offered to provide room and board in a high end hotel for as long as his services were required, and gave him an advance in gold. The target was a politician, which was well within Ivan’s range of preferable victim profiles.

The second letter was clearly penned by someone much younger, and with no understanding of how to write to a professional hitman. Her pseudonym was so poorly devised that Ivan had been able to deduce her name and age, as well as her connection with the writer of the first letter. She also paid him upfront in a ludicrous amount of gold, asking him to please kill Rumpelstiltskin.

She'd been very heavy handed on the please.

It was an impossible request, of course, but it tickled him nonetheless. He too had no love for that mischievous plague.

After a short deliberation, Ivan accepted both jobs. He’d been wanting to move back to his home country for a few hundred years or so, and this gave him the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Three weeks before his start date, he left England for Romania to engage in some light research, reconnaissance, and house hunting.

It wasn’t long until he received two calls that it was time for him to head to Bucharest, which is where he now found himself, in the Palatul Suter Hotel’s most lavish suite.

Ivan took another drag on his cigarette, and blew the smoke into the chill evening air.

Somewhere from the trees lining the parking lot came a howling, banshee-like screech. This had been happening since he arrived at the hotel. He might not have taken note of it, as it was the call of the common barn owl, a breed well known in Romania. However, this one had a rather particular throaty trill, and Ivan often saw it coming and going in the night, never out of sight of his room.

It hadn’t taken him long to deduce that someone was keeping a rather close eye on him.

Ivan smirked, his fangs flashing in the moonlight. Little Emilie's sister, he suspected. It was nice to know that his reputation preceded him.

He leaned back against the railing and glanced at the balcony door, which revealed a perfect inverse reflection of the city behind him. He was incapable of casting a reflection, but if he could, the glass would have revealed the embodiment of living shadow dressed in an impeccably tailored Armani suit.

Ivan took after his mother, God rest her soul. She was taller than the average human, with excellent bone structure, ebony skin, and hypnotic red eyes. She’d always told him that the eyes were a vampire’s greatest asset, as they would instill fear into his victims and increase the pulse, making it easier to draw blood. She’d been right. He kept them covered by contacts unless he was on the job, for practical reasons.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

A quick check revealed it was time to go.

He flicked the cigarette off the balcony and transformed to fly off in the night.

The streets of Bucharest were busy, even at the ungodly hour of 1 am. Ivan flew high and swift in the direction of Palatul Cotroceni, the home of the president. As he came closer to the palace, he began to hear the sound of an argument, and beneath that, wails. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming and he followed his nose to the topmost floor of the west wing. He landed on the window box, which was filled with Lilacs, to peer inside the room.

His beady eyes took in the young girl propped up on a well cushioned bed, a newborn baby tucked in her arms. That would be his young letter writer, Emilie. Brown hair framed a round, youthful face with startlingly violet eyes. She and the baby were both red and crying, though the mother’s tears were mostly silent.

There was a couple at the foot of the bed, an older man with salt and pepper hair, and a woman with her back to the window. Ivan presumed she was his first letter writer, The Duchess Helga Halert. She was the wife of Duke Hector Halert- abominable son of the president- and sister to Emilie.

The Duke and Duchess appeared to be in the middle of an argument. The Duke was prowling like a trapped animal, sweating profusely as his eyes darted back and forth.

Just behind the couple, Ivan could see a spinning wheel. It was at odds with the decadence of the chamber, a rough-hewn wood with loose pieces of straw littering the seat. There were piles of straw on the floor, along with towers of golden bobbins.

A figure suddenly appeared in the center of the room. Rumpelstiltskin. His current form was much different than the last Ivan had the displeasure of seeing. The mischievous spirit had taken on the appearance of a handsome, dimpled boy with shining golden eyes and hair.

His sudden apparition startled the Duke, who practically fell in his haste to move to the outside of the room. Duchess Halert, however, stood fast.

The boy turned to the woman with a mocking bow. “Duchess.”

“Plague.”

The boy grinned, revealing a mouthful of pointed teeth. “I prefer ‘Mischievous Scamp’.”

Ivan was distracted by the sound of fluttering wings and a blood curdling shriek. The owl landed on the window box beside him, it’s white face glowing in the moonlight.

The Duchess opened the latch with an impatient sweep of her hand. “Striga my dear, come in. And you too, Ivan Botezatu. I can sense you on the window sill, and I know you cannot enter a room without first being invited.”

Ivan changed into his human form as he stepped across the threshold, and bowed. “You are too kind.”

Every other creature in the room shrank back as Ivan unfolded himself to his full height, except for the Duchess. She must have been in her early fifties, like her husband, and she was incredibly beautiful, with the same violet eyes like her sister and short brown hair that was just turning grey. The owl, Striga, soared across the room to land on her shoulder. She began to stroke its head with a well manicured hand.

“Duchess Halert.”

“You know who I am?”

“Yes, I’m afraid your sister tipped your hand, though rather unintentionally I’m sure.”

The Duchess frowned. “I see.”

“I’m flattered that you spared your familiar to keep watch on my hotel. I’m sure she had much better things to do with her time.”

“It was no trouble. I like to keep an eye on my investments.”

“Hold on a moment,” Hector cut in. “What’s going on here Helga? Who is this?”

“He is my lover, husband. I thought that if you should have an affair, then why shouldn’t I?”

He turned red. His eyes flicked towards the girl on the bed before they skittered away.

“Botezatu. I thought someone had driven a stake through your cold heart years ago.”

Ivan turned to peer up at the ceiling, where Rumpelstiltskin had retreated upon his arrival. “A vicious rumor. Still up to the same old tricks I see, exploiting desperate young women.”

Rumple blew a raspberry, but did not descend from the eaves.

Ivan prowled towards the spinning wheel, forcing Hector to stumble even further out of his way. He reached out to roll a piece of golden thread between his fingers before turning towards the bed. “Your name is Emilie, is it not?”

The girl looked startled. Her eyes darted towards Duchess Halert before they zeroed back in on his face. “Yes sir.”

“My mother also had a child she hadn’t planned, yet wanted to keep. What is her name?”

“I-”

“That is irrelevant,” Duchess Halert said tightly, drawing his attention back. “She made a deal with this devil, and now she has to pay.”

“I'm an imp, not a devil," Rumple yawned. He was now hanging upside down from the ceiling. "And now I'm incredibly bored. Aren't you the Bloody Blighted Shaft Botezatu? Please kill someone and be on your way so we can proceed.”

“As you wish.”

Ivan turned to look at Hector. The man looked confused before eyes widened in panic.

"Wait, now hold on just a moment-"

Ivan moved so swiftly that the Duke had little time to do anything more than look surprised as Ivan sank his teeth into his carotid artery. He was dead before he hit the floor, and his blood was drained in less than a minute.

“Happy Valentine's Day.” Rumple grinned.

Ivan took out his red handkerchief to dab the blood from his chin.“Are you satisfied Duchess?”

Helga Halert barely spared her husband an indifferent glance. “Quite. And if you would be so kind as to remove the body when you leave. There is an unmarked, refrigerated van in the garage. Feel free to leave him inside.”

“Very well.”

Ivan looked at Emilie. She stared back at him, eyes bright, waiting.

“Was there something else you wanted?” Duchess Halert asked impatiently.

“I have one more job to complete.”

Her eyes narrowed as she turned on her sister. “What have you done?”

“I couldn’t let him take my baby away,” Emilie wailed. “I just couldn’t! I made a deal so I could pay Mr. Botezatu, and save up since now that Hector’s gone we can-”

“No one can kill the Rumplestiltskin Emi!”

“But Helga, the baby-”

“You cannot keep it!” The Duchess shouted, causing Striga to fly into the corner in a hail of hisses and feathers. Magic crackled off her skin. “You made sure of that. Now say your good-byes so you can fulfill your contract.”

The girl’s eyes welled with tears. “Do you think I asked for this? It’s not my fault that you married abominable man. I didn’t ask to have his child! I agreed that Hector should die, but I don't want to give away the child.”

“How can you possibly want to keep it, after all that’s happened?” Helga asked angrily.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to at first, but then I remembered how we were castaways, unwanted, and I thought… Well I mean look at her, Helga! She has our eyes.”

Ivan noted a spark of violet as the baby shifted against her mother’s chest.

Helga looked, though reluctantly. Emilie continued, her voice full of fervor. “You know what that means. We’ll have another witch in the family. A strong one too, I’ll bet.”

Duchess Halert had traveled to her sister’s bedside, and was reaching out to brush her finger down the child’s small, wrinkled face.

"What is it that you propose?”

Emilie’s eyes lit up. “We’re rich now, Hel! We can go anywhere we want. We can build a little house in the Swiss Alps and have a farm, just like you always wanted. We can raise her better than we were raised, train her to use her powers instead of fear them. Can’t you just see it?”

The baby’s hand had escaped it’s blanket, and was wrapped around Helga’s finger.

“What touching imagery,” Rumple said, dabbing his eyes with an exaggerated sniff. “Too bad you’re not going to see any of it happen.”

“Is there nothing we can do?”

“A deals a deal.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Ivan folded his arms. “Perhaps. What were the terms of your agreement, imp?”

“The usual. I agreed to spin the girl her gold in exchange for her firstborn child. A simple arrangement. Very binding.”

“And what date, precisely, did you agree upon to take the child away?”

“When she was born of course.”

“No! “ Emilie interrupted. “We didn’t set a date!”

“Did you establish a length of time that Rumple could keep the child? A month, hour, or minute, for example.”

Emilie's smile was brilliant.

Rumpelstiltskin hissed, his face transforming into a hideous snarl.

“Then it appears the two of you have some details to iron out.”

“Stick your pointy nose in my business again bloodsucker and I’ll-”

“What? Pester me to death? May I remind you that while I may not be able to kill you, I know several ways in which to entrap you into a fate worse than death.”

The imp looked ready to tear him to pieces.

“Now it seems my work here is done.” Ivan said, and wiped at a feather that had alighted on on the lapel of his suit. “Goodbye Duchess. It has been a pleasure working with you.”

“What about your last contract?” She asked.

“As I said, I am incapable of killing Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Then why did you take my sister’s money?”

“Hm, you do bring up an interesting point. I did agree to the contract, and I wouldn’t want my reputation to be tarnished as a thief. Emilie, if it is acceptable to you, why don’t we consider your payment an advance, in case you every have need of my services in the future?”

“Oh thank you, thank you sir!"

Duchess Halert gave him a hard stare. “I don’t know any creature of magic to be so free with their gifts.”

“This is no gift. I have already been paid.”

“But we are in your debt, which is something I cannot abide.”

“Very well. There is perhaps one thing you might do for me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Which would be?”

“I have recently decided to move my practice here, to Romania. I imagine that it will take some time for news to get around, and I know you have contacts within the country’s political system. Perhaps you could help me find my next victims, while I wait for the larger cash jobs to flow in.”

The ghost of a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. “I can have Striga bring you word whenever we catch wind of any other… sordid affairs.”

“Excellent. I will send my forwarding address, as soon as I am settled in.”

“No matter. I’m sure I will be able to find you. I did it once, after all.”

“I have no doubt that you will.”

“Ugh. Enough with the flirtatious banter! You’re making me sick.”

Ivan picked up Hector’s corpse with little effort. “Rumple, I pray that we will not meet again soon.”

“The feeling is mutual Botezatu.”

“Ladies, I look forward to hearing from you.”

He smiled. The Duchess Halert’s cheeks tinged slightly red as she inclined her head.

“Good-bye sir,” Emilie said with a bright smile. “I hope you’ll come and visit us in Switzerland, when we settle in.”

“It would be an honor.”

With a final bow Ivan transformed, and disappeared like a shot into the night.