Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

STEFAN

The light rain of the previous day had turned into a deluge. The harsh rush of water drowned out the usually endless music that gave Tenebrium its heartbeat. The close drops formed a screen that was like looking through misted glass. It made Hugo’s prowl through the streets an oddly silent and blurred affair, it was like being robbed of his senses.

Nobody paid him any mind, which wasn’t new, but they were blind and deaf to him as he made his way towards Tenebrium Metropolitan Hospital, it made him feel like he was already dead. That was the happiest thought he’d had in weeks.

The clawing hole in his chest where Evan and their future had been, made Hugo feel like he was perpetually hovering on the precipice between life and death. He begged death to take him as its own, but it never did, and it never would without help.

One way or another the reaper would greet Hugo with open arms, but not until he had completed his list. That list was the only thing keeping Hugo on his feet. It gave him purpose like nothing else in the world of the living ever could.

The Emergency Room was full. Intercoms buzzed, patients groaned in pain as doctors and nurses were run ragged. Hugo walked up to the reception desk, where a harassed looking nurse was juggling several calls and other patients.

“I’ll be right with you,” she said apologetically.

Hugo pulled open his jacket to reveal the bullet wound near his ribs that had now soaked his shirt in blood.

“Damnit.” She looked annoyed more than worried. “I’ll get you someone.”

“Dr Finch is a close friend, could they be called?”

“Uh…” She checked the multiple screens she was in command of. “It’s your lucky day. Cubicle eight.” She pointed to one of the dozens of procedure rooms, then turned to deal with the next walk in.

Hugo walked with sweaty hands over to cubicle eight and sat down on the bed to wait. He was nervous, the bloodlust in him building. It was the only respite for him, the knowledge that he was about to strike another name from his ever-shortening list.

It was nearly thirty minutes before the curtain was pulled back and Stefan Finch stepped inside.

They were of medium height and particularly slender, White, with round metal glasses and blond hair so light it was almost colourless.

“Good evening,” they said, looking at the chart in their arms. “I’m Dr Finch, what seems to be the problem—Hugo? You okay, buddy?”

“Hey, Doc. Got shot. Again.”

“You seem remarkably unmoved by it.”

“It’s just a graze.” Hugo removed his jacket and showed Stefan the gash along his ribs. “You seem busy.”

“This city is good for business.” Stefan pressed Hugo gently back on to the bed and lifted his shirt to examine the wound.

“No, I mean you’ve been doing a lot of jobs for Samuel.”

Stefan tensed slightly but continued their work.

“No more than usual. CO2 laser closure will be the best for this, it’s pretty shallow. It will hurt, but it’s quick, okay?”

“Do your worst.”

True to their word, the laser closure was very painful. It was like a hot poker being dragged along his skin, but it was over in under a minute.

“You did good, kid,” Stefan joked, patting Hugo on the shoulder. “How’s that for my worst?”

“Not even close.” Hugo lunged forward, a swathe of gauze in his hand. He grabbed Stefan and forced them onto the bed. Before they could yell, he had forced the white cotton into Stefan’s mouth and held it there. The gag and the noise of the ER made it impossible for them to cry for help.

Stefan’s eyes were wide with fear. They were shaking. A different person might have softened to the obvious distress of another human being, but not Hugo. All it made him think was how afraid Evan must have been and how no one showed him any mercy.

“You cleaned up their mess. You got rid of the evidence. You threw him in a dumpster, but that’s not all you did, is it?”

Stefan’s hands clutched at Hugo, trying to push him off, but they weren’t able to sway him.

“Flynn said his heart was removed with medical precision. Alice couldn’t have done that.”

Stefan mumbled something in a pleading tone.

“What was that?”

Hugo removed his hand, no longer caring if he was caught.

“He was already dead. I had no idea why I was called to your place. I never would have been involved if I’d known they were going to hurt Evan.”

“You would have said no to Sam, would you?”

“I…”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Samuel isn’t stupid. If you kill me, he’ll know.”

“Good. I’ve stayed in the shadows long enough. I want it done. I want him to know that I’m coming for him, I want him to feel a fraction of the fear Evan did, but I’ll give you something Alice didn’t give him: I’ll make it quick.”

Hugo grabbed the pillow from the narrow bed and held it over Stefan’s face. He straddled their chest as they fought and scratched, but just as with the gauze, they couldn’t shake him. Slowly, their movements grew lethargic, their protests grew weaker and when they finally stopped moving, Hugo held on.

It was several minutes before he pried his fingers free of the fabric. He threw the pillow to the side and looked coldly down at the remains of Stefan. He pulled the pen from the pocket of their lab coat, crossed their name off the list with it, then left the ER. He was almost at the door when he heard the screams. He smiled broadly as he made his way back out into the night.