This lovely bit stormed my mind until I wrote it. Too bad I happened to pick my notes on my phone. Yes, I typed this up on my tiny iPhone screen. Do enjoy my very rough, Untitled Piece.

I think it will be the opening to the eighth untitled book in my Valk series under my WIPs. A little ahead of myself I know but those books could be rearranged a little to suite my purposes.

Do enjoy.
_________

“Where is she?” She asks again.

This stout woman, who looks to be 57 but I know to be 39, takes quick choppy breaths telling me how angry she is. It’s too bad I don’t give a fuck.

“Where is Carol Lynche?” Flying spit lands on my face in globs, again telling me how angry she is. And again I don’t give a fuck.

The young yet old stout woman paces in front of me trying her best to send threatening glares my way. All it does is make her look comical and a tad childish. Again, I have no fucks to give.

“Talk!”

Her outburst only serves to my advantage. It’s proof I’m winning and she’s losing. This revelation should be giving me happy elated feelings but alas I have no fucks to give. I don’t have anything to give. Well, emotion wise. Information I have. I have copious amounts and this stout woman wants it all. But alas, zero fucks to give.

“Víktoria Valíkant, you will give me everything I want.”

I look up into pretty hazel eyes. She leans away and I know it’s because of my eyes, a rare indigo color worthy of notation. Her breath quickens, a hint of it puffs over my face and I smell a hint of toothpaste mixed with coffee, eggs, a salad, and steak. A hint of alcohol tells me this federal agent is a naughty one. Drinking on the job, the shame but then again, I have no fucks to give.

Her face contorts in anger. If I could feel anything I think I would be impressed with this woman for not completely backing away from me. Even though she thinks me human all humans naturally keep their distance from me and others like me. We are a dangerous sort.

“Miss Valíkant.” Her tone is threatening as well as her stance but it’s the eyes. She’s afraid of me. I can smell it. Her fear permeates the air, if I could feel something I know it would be satisfaction. “I’m running out of patience.”

Taking a deep breath, the other agents too thick cologne almost gags me. “As am I.” I take pause, cocking my head, as I analyze my voice. If it could be called mine. The stout agent steps back as if I shoved her. Her face registers shock and fear for only a moment before schooling herself back into her trained federal expression.

If curiosity could tickle my interest I would wonder if she thought me a psychopath. But again, no fucks to give.

She steps away along with her partner, who up until now, stood quietly leaning against one of the bland gray walls. If I could feel attraction this man would be handsome I suppose but in this emotionless state I can’t honestly say for sure. But again, I have no fucks to give.

The two retreat from the small bland room I have called home for the past forty-six days. Solid cinder block walls painted in a shabby dark gray leaves the captey feeling helpless and lost to time. Too bad this doesn’t phase me. I know precisely when the sun rises and when it sets. These humans doing their damnedest to trick me by turning day into night and night into day do little to unsettle me.

My nails glide over the metal surface of the chair I am bound to. The cool substance gave way to warmth along time ago with the heat of my body. If I were human the agents would certainly break me very soon.

Too bad for them I am anything but human.

I am Víktoria Valíkant and if I could feel emotion I would be angry. Too good for them I feel nothing. Because if I did they would be dead and this facility would sit in ruins.

The tip of my tongue glides over a fang nicking the tip. The taste of my own blood pulls a smirk across my lips. These humans will soon be dead. Not from boredom or anger, no nothing like that.

They will die because I simply need. I need to find my brother, my twin. And nothing and no one will keep my from my task.

The time is coming.

They will die.