Fell Swoop by Morgan Blayde

Author:Morgan Blayde [Blayde, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-12-12T23:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

“When one burns one’s bridges,

what a very nice fire it makes.”

—Dylan Thomas

Graeme Collier stood in front of his sprawling desk, leaning against it, arms crossed. No emotion touched his cobalt eyes. He radiated wealth and power. His tailored suit was a darker charcoal than he normally wore, accented by a claret red, silk handkerchief in the pocket. His matching tie was tucked into his gold-buttoned vest. Gold cufflinks glinted on his wrists. Thoroughly polished, his shoes all but shone.

He kept his office’s remote control in his right coat pocket. The steel shutters were closed of course. It was midday; not a good time for vampires. Running a mega-corporation meant he couldn’t always stick to a nocturnal schedule. The same was true for other corporate officers at Med-Corp. They also had shutters in their offices. The lower echelon, human employees quickly learned not to comment on such “Anti-terrorist” features.

The office door opened. Jayne entered and stepped aside, clearing the way for two delivery men who followed. Sleeves rolled up, they wore tan coveralls and caps as they operated by remote a battery-powered, aluminum cage on wheels. The truck frame carried a black-lacquered coffin strapped down so it wouldn’t slide, and the lid wouldn’t open. Not that anybody needed out.

Jayne followed the men deeper into the office, taking an electric stylus from them to sign for the delivery. The coffin was left lying flat on the burgundy carpet, in the middle of the huge office. Graeme had had the regular furniture taken out, in the midst of upgrading quite a few things.

He was also amused to see that Jayne had the men well cowed; they didn’t look at her, instinctively afraid, and hurried away without small talk, not even asking why the corporation president needed an expensive coffin for a coffee table.

One of these days, he thought, when she’s brought over, she’s going to make a great vampire. Well, to business.

“Jayne, open it.”

She knelt by the coffin, lifting the lid without haste. Inside was a quilted, burgundy lining and a lot of empty space. The inside of the lid had a small TV installed. She turned it on, and the flat-screen glowed to life, displaying two soap opera actors proud of their torrid affairs with way too many people.

“Search for Tomorrow. My mother’s favorite show,” Jayne rose, brushing wrinkles from her teal blue dress. She wore pearl earrings, a single strand around her neck, and makeup so natural she didn’t seem to be wearing any.

“And how is your mother?” Graeme asked.

“Fine, sir. She’s comfortable with the hospice you recommended. The care there is excellent. I don’t know how we can ever repay you. I’d have been forced to place her in a second-rate nursing home if you—”

“That will do,” Graeme said. “It was an act of selfishness on my part. Distracted, you are hardly at your best. Summon Mauro. Tell him I’m ready for him.”

“Yes, sir, shall I have security standing by in case he, um, acts up?”

“No, I’ve got this. That will be all.

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