The door of a hotel room opened as Mike and Nadja stepped through, still high from the kill and torture, as they tossed down their things and began removing clothing, as if casually getting off work and returning home for a planned romp in the sheets.

  They barely noticed the maid standing there, as Mike grabbed her by the arm and lead her out the open door with a light shove and a look of pure evil.

  “Try again when there’s something to clean up.” He growled, slamming the door and returning to his prey, Nadja.

  “Well done, Mister Black.” Nadja said, pulling his belt away and tossing it, as he placed his knife and pistol on the stand beside the bed and sat down on the fitted sheets.

  “I wish you’d stop calling me that.” He objected. “I’ve gotten used to hearing you say Michael in that sexy little accent, but I’m not Mister Black until I have to be.” He said, tossing her down and grabbing something from the travel bag, a roll of paracord and his pocket knife to cut it as needed. She smirked and bit her lip playfully, running her bare feet over the slippery sheets as he climbed over her, tying her wrists together and looping the cord over the bed rail.

  “Perhaps he’s needed right now.” She toyed.

  “Oh you want Mister Black, instead of Mister Finn tonight?” he asked darkly. “Well, I think I can arrange something.” He said looping the cord around one ankle and the other, yanking it tightly and stretching her into an X shape as he tied the ends tightly in several knots and cut away the excess binding, tossing it aside and climbing on top of her, brushing her hair back and pressing his lips to hers as she moaned lightly and squirmed. Her second moan slightly more intense, the third suddenly increasing in pitch as her eye opened wide and her light squirming abruptly turned to a tight pull on the cords, followed by a peppering of red across her face as he pulled away, his face covered in blood spatter as well. “You wanted a killer…here he is. What... you didn’t think I had it in me? You think I’d be your political pawn and kill your enemies because you’re a quality piece of ass, and you have me on a leash?” he asked, reaching down and yanking the knife from the left side of her throat with a sideways motion to open her neck to the bone. “I played lapdog because I needed help killing a corrupt mayor and sending a message, and you’re right. I’m a monster that Tanner couldn’t handle, and you proved today that she was not ready for the job you were practically made for. She will be some day, but I needed him dead now, and you were willing to follow.” He said as she gasped and struggled to speak, arterial spray covering the bed.

  “Cold.” She silently mouthed, tears running down her face as she clenched her eyes shut.

  “We both are, but if it’s any comfort in your last moments, know that I did have feelings for you, and this was not easy for me, just necessary to save my soul.” He said, shedding a tear of his own. “I’m going to miss you in a strange way, but you are something I can’t fight forever, and as I get older, and you burrow deeper into my head, my chances of doing this just get thinner. So it has to be done. I’m sorry. You’ll never be Tanner, but you really were perfect for a monster like me, and it’s a fucking shame we couldn’t ever trust each other to meet in the middle of a compromise, but you know damn well one of us would end up here, and acting quickly now that the work is done…was sadly just the smartest move. I have no real joy in watching you go.” He admitted.

  The struggling continued without a scream or moan as Mike calmly sat up, straddling her and wiping the blood from his forehead with a hand holding the red saturated knife. He coldly sighed as his other hand still lightly cupped her neck, keeping the arterial spray confined to the bed, as Nadja bled out, and her struggling calmed down. Mike rolled out of the bed, wiping his blood soaked hand and dropping the knife as he walked to the bathroom to clean up. He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself, letting go and crying silently, feeling a strange loss like part of him was missing, remembering Gwen and seeing her dead body in his living room. Something in him felt the hate that he adopted that moment, now leaving his body like a weight lifted, but somehow leaving a hollow space where that hate had been living so long. It was cold, void-like and pulling on his ribs like an exhalation he couldn’t get out. He punched the mirror, killing the image of himself he couldn’t bare to look at, and let the crying simmer down to a calm breathing, the sound of footsteps behind him grabbing his attention as he paused to remember if in the heat of the moment, he remembered to lock the door. The vague image in the dark of a maid’s outfit passed behind him as he shook his head, expecting either a scream and a sudden need to run from sirens, or a gunshot to the back if the maid was just another assassin tracking him down and waiting for a moment to strike when he was alone and vulnerable.

  Suddenly hands grabbed his shoulders and the maid leaned in close, almost seductively, nails raking over his skin as a familiar accent whispered in his ear, Russian, subtle lisp, slight serpentine hiss to the sharpened S in the last word.

  “You really think you can kill me that easssily.” Said the maid, the same unmistakable tone and cocky darkness. “You can kill flesh and blood, but you can’t kill what I am.” She finished as Mike stared down at the bloody sink.

  “You’re dead.” He said, turning, as the hotel maid ran her claws down his chest the way Nadja did, pinning him. He blinked, head spinning as he saw both Nadja and the maid's face at the same time, unable to clarify one or the other. “I cut your throat, nearly removed your head, and watched you die.”

  “Da, you watched Nadja Die. The body. You really think you were defeated and turned evil by just some little Russian girl? Just someone your type, a chosen killer, attractive, exotic. She let me in much easier than you did, Michael.” The maid said, even using her mannerisms.

  “Who are you? WHAT are you?” he asked.

  “I’m everyone, anyone, and very briefly, I was your favorite kill. You were right about one thing, Mister Finn, I wanted you and couldn’t have you. You’re just too strong, always resisting me. You will never just slip away and become Mister Black forever, Mike Finn will always keep clawing back to the surface and out of the bottle. So, we will play this game a little differently.” She said, raising the knife to her own throat as he grabbed it, not sure if he was about to kill her again or stop her, still unsure if it was the maid or Nadja's face. "Kill me, Mister Finn, I’ll just come back. You can’t kill me forever. Or maybe I’ll just come back as Tanner, a form you can’t kill, and take up permanent resident in that pretty little form. She does make such a good little killer, but her faith is so weak. I could just go kill her now, and what could you do? Kill me again. I only have to kill her once.”

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  “What do you want…devil. Me? Fine. A trade for Tanner, you get my soul. Let the maid go and take me, for Tanner's life.” he said, dead inside already.

  “You’ll just change your mind and fight me later, as always, your soul is too stubborn. We have done this before. You’ll never be obedient unless I target your heart, Michael. The maid is innocent; you would never accept a weak body like this anyway, knowing she was being forced by my hand. That is not like you. You like your prey to be another predator with teeth, willing to fight. So let me force YOUR hand, and not to my throat.”

  “I told you that you could have my soul, my body, what else could you want?”

  “Your allegiance. I will have you in some manner, like I have before, willing, lusting for it. A willing host is so much stronger, Michael, and a willing Michael is stronger than anything. Even now as this innocent maid, you struggle to release me. She would make a poor killer and a poor lover. I want your heart, your loyalty, and your love. But you started something, when you declared war. A revolution. Just like I wanted. Except now, you’ll truly know who I am and how powerful I can be, and not to be fucked with. Do I have your attention, now, Michael? Do you finally see the beast you made love to and couldn’t keep resisting, that you know even death can't separate?” she hissed.

  “I do. I couldn’t resist Nadja because she’s the same kind of demon who’s been with me since my wife died. You just found something better looking than a bottle to tempt me with.” He breathed sharply.

  “I AM temptation, a beast of a different caliber. That voice in you when you stopped listening to the voice of God…” she chuckled, “A God nothing more than your own conscience, struggling to keep you in control, instead of me. I am the temptation to kill, when you knew it was wrong. I am the whisper of the question: what if you just kept shooting everyone? I am the same thing who took over that night when you left Michael Finn in the parking lot with your imaginary god and an empty bottle, and gave in to Mister Black, because believing Tanner was dead, you had nothing left to fight for except vengeance. I am that vengeance, Michael. I am you. Except I stopped fighting my demon and became it.”

  “You’re just someone else's Mister Black, free and stronger.”

  “Nyet, Michael. Free, but not stronger. I had you, and you fought me away for Tanner. Someone Mister Black could hurt, or break, an ill-fitting dream that you could rid of it, if you truly loved her. Now here you are protecting her from yourself and me. You can’t wear me down or scare me away, I’m your own personal devil. I gave you power, I gave you freedom, you confined it, I gave you the perfect woman, and you slit her throat. Now you understand what a mistake that was. Such a perfect little host to love and hate, and you thought a knife would set you free. It only delayed me, and if that body is not enough, I can be anyone you want.” She sighed. “But don’t worry, Mike. I’ll be back soon, just like Mister Black, aggressive as ever." she whispered, Now looking more maid than Nadja, blurry, with orange eyes in the dark.

  “When you can’t fight the soul, you fight the heart” he sighed. Feeling defeated.

  “You’re only human. I’ve seen your soul. It’s resistant but imperfect. I saw that lust in your eyes when you slit my throat, so many more options. You like to kill your lovers? I can arrange this. Nadja, something brand new you always wanted, perhaps. Whatever you want. Whatever form suits your desire. When you get bored with her, kill her. I'll come back, find another temptation you hide. I’ll get another, and another. Don’t you get it, Michael…you can’t escape me because deep down you know I’m perfect for you.” She said, biting his ear playfully, drawing blood and licking her lips clean. “And I’m never leaving you anyway. So do you still want to resist me, resist temptation itself, miserable and alone and one day become so lonely that you return to Tanner and ruin her life? Kill her in confused passion, or get her killed in some fight she cannot handle? Or will you obey me completely and let me spoil you, let me feed you what you really want, flesh, disposable to play with, and we can finish the mission together, and Tanner will just…live on without you and slowly heal, stronger. Maybe happy even, maybe doing your old job as hero for God, HER God, her inner conscience. You know what I want from you, because you want it too, and you're just too ashamed to say it. A bigger challenge, a darker betrayal.”

  “Fine…Miss Black. Feed me something tempting, something disposable I won’t miss. You want me, I’m clearly already yours. You want a dead president, you’ll have one soon.”

  “Good boy Michael. I’ll see you again very soon.” She whispered, pulling his hand and slitting her throat, killing the maid. He stood there, holding the knife, numb with a hollow chill. He suddenly sat up in the hotel bed, knife in hand and slightly blood stained. Wondering if it was a dream and if he was still dreaming. He felt his ear, a slight bite-mark and blood, tacky from time. He looked beside him and down at Nadja’s body, hands bound and restraints cut, face down in the bed, blood streaked across her back in a hand print he recognized as his own.

  “I’m sorry I resisted, and I’m sorry to lose such beautiful piece of flesh.” He sighed softly. She slowly rolled over with a devilish smirk. He stared at her, silently sharing the overwhelming array of emotions that he now understood. She climbed on top of him and tossed the knife aside.

  “You look so surprised to see me, Michael. Like you’ve seen a ghost.” She giggled, lightly clawing his chest and leaning nose to nose, bumping heads and pressing her weight on him.

  “Am I insane, or are you just fucking with my head?” he asked her.

  “Both, Mister Finn, and constantly. I like to play with my food too.” She replied, leaning to his wounded ear and breathing a breath of ice-cold air down his neck. “Let me know when you get hungry again, and I’ll keep you well-fed.” She whispered. He melted into the surrender, opening his eyes and realizing the pitch dark room was as clear as day to him.

  “How do I know any of this is real? How do I know you’re not just a voice in my head, like Mister black, but with a form to it. A hallucination?”

  “You don’t, Michael, but you are the man of faith. Just be happy you got your plaything back.” she smiled.

  “I promise I’ll never kill you again.” He said, feeling less sane by the moment.

  “Now that’s not a very fun promise, Michael. Don’t make promises we both don’t want you to keep.” She chuckled darkly, breaking the wrist restraints and pinning him down by his chest.

  The Hunter’s moon lit the hotel balcony oddly bright, as two figures ground together in the hotel bed, partially visible through the thermal scope on the MPX sitting on the balcony table. The larger masculine body on bottom glowing white-hot, the body on top colder and blacker than the ambient room they were in, like a shadow of absolute evil opacity, and the very dim lukewarm glow of the maid’s arm hanging from the bathtub, growing gradually darker and darker as the corpse equalized to room temperature. The thermal scope flickered and went out as the battery died, and the room equalized to a wall of ever dimming gray. Nothing left to reveal or conceal.

  Only Red and Black remained.

  Stay tuned for book 3, starting in a few days.

  We're only getting started.