Read Online Dark Moonlighting by Scott Haworth - Free Book Online Page A

feeding, otherwise they are too heavy to
fly away. My need to pee was similarly overwhelming, and there was
a huge puddle on the floor by the time I shook the last few drops
out.
    It was easy to see why American authorities
labeled me as “The Urinator”. They had reports of piss puddles at
crime scenes for over a century, and thought a number of copycat
serial killers must exist. It never occurred to them that all the
crimes had been performed by the same man. After all, very few
centenarians are mobile enough to commit such brutal murders. The
F.B.I. and various police departments always believed the urine was
a demented calling card. Many were disappointed when I explained it
to be nothing more than a normal biological process. I never found
out what they thought had happened to the victims’ blood. Serial
killers often take trophies from their victims, but did they think
I had oil drums full of bodily fluid in my lair? The logistics of
that process would be mind-boggling.
    I felt sleepy after the big meal but forced
myself to cover my tracks. The steak knife that I jammed repeatedly
into my victim’s neck removed any evidence that the real cause of
death had been tiny fangs. I wiped down the few surfaces I had
touched to make sure the investigators could not find any
fingerprints. As an afterthought, I tore the Ethernet cables out of
the computers. It would likely be days before anyone noticed that
the terrible human being was missing, and I thought it would be a
good public service to put a quick end to his spam e-mail
operation.
    Confident that everything was in order, I
cautiously exited the building and darted back to my car. I was
twenty miles south of Chicago before I started to calm down. I had
gotten away with yet another murder. It was still dark when I got
back to my apartment in Starside. I crawled into bed and was asleep
shortly after my head hit the pillow. My subconscious did not
create any nightmares to plague me. It had been many years since I
felt remorse for one of my victims.
     

Chapter Four: The Stupid Little Prick Who I
Wish I Had Eaten
     
    It had been a good hunt, and I was content
and well rested the following Monday when my next work shift
started. Law enforcement was my most recent professional endeavor,
and I found it to be more exciting than my other two jobs. While I
was still occasionally surprised by legal cases or medical
oddities, most of my work as a lawyer and a doctor had become
mundane. As a police officer, I was always finding things I had not
encountered before. Having been alive for so long, new situations
were a rare and welcome diversion.
    My job as a cop was the only one for which I
did not have to use the albino cover story. My unusual request to
only work nights had been enthusiastically approved by my boss. It
must have seemed odd to him, but he had no interest in looking a
gift horse in the mouth. With so many officers looking to avoid the
night shift, I represented one less slot he had to fill. This
arrangement did pose one problem for me. I enjoyed being a cop, but
knew I had no opportunity for advancement. I was knowledgeable
enough about the criminal justice system to become a detective.
However, I could never have gotten away with being an investigator
who only worked nights. Waiting for the sun to go down before
following a time-sensitive lead would certainly have been frowned
upon. I cannot imagine how many complaints the department would
have received from witnesses who I would have had to woken up to
interview.
    I parked at the police station and nodded to
a few of my fellow officers who were standing near the side of the
building. They were chugging down large cups of coffee as they
waited for the briefing to start. Even the cops who enjoyed the
thrill of working nights usually needed some form of stimulant to
handle the shift. I, being a creature of the night, held up much
better than my comrades.
    I entered the police station and headed
straight for the