Part 7: Fumble
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This was it. He greatly dreaded this moment.

“You're the one who let them get away! You must tell Raphael!” The other employees of the club had warned him.

As he made his way down the stairs and towards his master's door, he shuddered at the beating that was to come. Yet, indeed, his master needed to be aware of what happened.

He stopped and knocked on the firm wood door three times, and then stopped. No answer. No problem. He knocked twice before holding his fingers up to the surface and tapping slightly.

“Enter!” A soft but strong voice said behind the wall.

“What is it, Azael? Can you not see I am a busy man!” Raphael stated as he looked up from his desk.

“I'm sorry, sir.” He started. “But a prisoner has escaped.”

Raphael stared straight towards him now, his expression sour. “What did you say?”

Azael bowed his head, his long hair flopping over his shoulders as he stared shyly at the floor below.

“Nadia. She escaped,” he said again. “I believe it was Sebastian who...”

Suddenly, Raphael jumped out of his seat and began to approach him.

“You dare let her free while I sleep in my quarters!?” Raphael's tone grew grim. “I shall have your head for this, Azael.”

“But sir, we tried to stop them. We chased him for miles before losing sight.”

“You ought to be the finest vampire's in this city, Azael,” Raphael claimed as he stopped in front of his apprentice. “If it was not for your failures. You and that other... defective... thing.”

Azael gulped. He knew what was to come.

“Can I be the first to say I'm sorry?” Azael wondered. “However, we feel you did not supply us with effective senses...”

“Do not make excuses to me, Azael. You have a brain, a heart, and senses buried somewhere deep inside that tweaked out body of yours. Fucking use them!” Raphael spouted as he grabbed hold of Azael's neck and held him high.

Azael sputtered a moment, his feet kicking underneath him in attempt to reach the floor below.

“Please, sir.” He gasped. “I meant no wrong.”

“Hmph,” Raphael breathed before throwing him to the ground.

“You are my finest creation, Azael. Do not make me destroy you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, I do not wish to see your face again until his head is on a platter in front of me!” Raphael spouted.

“Yes, sir.” Azael repeated as he stayed bowed on the floor in front of his master.

Raphael turned and folded his arms behind his back. “I have much more important matters to tend to. If we let our secret get out before it's time...” He stepped forward, then with a huff, turned back towards Azael.


“It was only one prisoner, correct?”

Azael nodded.

“And this Sebastian... He's been a frequent at the club. Hmmm...” Raphael lowered his head. “I suppose we have been here long enough. Azael, stand up. I have other work for you and your men.”

“Yes, sir.” Azael struggled to his feet.

Raphael stepped toward his desk, eyeing a stack of papers in front of him. “Can you bring me the camera footage of the windows from Thursday night?”

The windows? Yes, sir. Do you want the time when Sebastian--?”

“I don’t care about that. No, from before then. I believe there was someone else with him earlier that evening. Dark brown hair, vampire with a certain… scent to him.”


Raphael slammed his hands on the desk. “Bring it, now!”

“Yes, sir!” Azael darted for the door.

Just as he was leaving, he heard Raphael mutter. “Whoever you are… you smell like him.”