75. Stalking a Strigoi

Alisa - Council Headquarters
Here I am, sitting at my new, large desk covered in piles of papers. I am still trying to get used to the fact that now I am in charge of the entire business empire of the Council.
It hasn't been easy these past few days. I'm supposed to be in control of all strigois and their assets.
A fireplace, the only light in this room, burns brightly, but the room seems to be anything but bright. The fire spreads a warmth we, strigois, can’t retain. The walls are dark; thick shadows move over the dusty old books on the shelves.
Posters displaying information about the company, some of them old and yellowed, and others peeling and faded, hang next to the shelves. Old maps are tacked up on the wall but have no meaning for me.
This place has seen so much history, and now it's mine. Too bad I'm not a fan of the past.
The general gloomy vibe creeps into my mind as I look over the documents on my desk. Years of funding with no discernable progress, investors breathing down their necks, and a history of moral ambiguity and espionage. What the hell am I getting myself into?
Without knocking, Ion Corvin slams the door to my office.
Groaning, I glance up from my desk, and my first thought is to scold him. He was behaving like a tyrant as Council leader, and now that he is no longer in control, I get to be his boss.
Though, on second thought, he willingly gave me his position. I suppose that should be enough to earn him some lenience.
His dark hair, cut short, glints gold under the dim lighting. He wears a black suit, which looks too big on his slender frame, and a white shirt open at the collar. Oh, and let's not forget about his fedora.
“Alisa Cristescu leads the Council with a passion and intensity that we have not seen in centuries.”
That’s it. Here goes all the lenience I’m capable of. If he continues to ridicule me, I'll demonstrate what it's like to take a super-powered enhanced punch in the face.
"We need to minimize some spending, or else we'll go over budget," I explain, attempting to seem reasonable.
“Well, good luck with that.” He smirks and mockingly bows without taking off his fedora. “I won't be able to help. I'm taking off. From now on, you're on your own."
The smug expression on his face makes me want to slap him.
“What do you mean? Where are you going? On vacation or something?”
“Or something. Take care, Alisa Cristescu.”
He's gone before I can say anything more. I groan and recline on my chair. I must confess I'm relieved. But there's something fishy going on here, particularly with Ion Corvin.
The powerful strigoi who brought the Council to its knees just hands up his seat to me and departs. This doesn't make sense.
Jumping on my feet, I decide to follow him. I have no idea what he is up to, but he’s hiding something. I have to figure out what it is.
***
Stalking a centuries-old strigoi through the streets of Bucharest at midday isn’t what I would call a stroll in the park. With the sun at the pinnacle of its journey, the shades in which I can hide are scarce. Ion Corvin doesn’t seem to mind.
I curse my idiom when my target turns right into a park. Fewer people here than on the street, and he can readily identify me as I trail behind.
By the way it swings at his every step, the black duffle bag hanging on his back appears empty. And if his actions weren’t peculiar enough, he enters a public bathroom. I mean, common! Strigois don’t have to shit or pee.
If only simple logic and reasoning could solve any puzzle. If only I could read minds like Laura. Or if only people would just speak up!
A tall, well-tanned guy distracts me from my target. He’s so hot I can almost see smoke coming out of his ears. His clothes are so tight that I can basically sculpt him naked. And I’m not a sculptor by any means.
Focus, Alisa! You're chasing another strigoi in broad daylight. Keep your head straight and not let yourself drool over every hot stuff out there.
Gulping, I follow with my gaze his perky ass up to the moment he enters the same public bathroom. Are the toilettes in there sprinkled with honey?
I wait, then wait, and wait some more.
Well done, Alisa. What's next? A new hobby: stalking men in public bathrooms?
He finally emerges. The hot guy, not my target.
Biting my lower lip, I watch him stroll away into an alley. I blink a few times to make sure what I’m seeing is real. The hot guy has the same duffle bag as Ion Corvin, and he didn’t have one when he entered the bathroom.
Damn it, I must be losing my mind.
Throwing away any precautions, I storm inside the men’s dumping zone. Some individuals whistle at me, but I don’t care. I push open every door until I reach the last one.
Surprise! Here lays the hot guy, knocked out of his senses. He is sitting on the toilet seat, his long legs stretched out over the floor. Then who was the dreamlike apparition I saw exiting the bathroom? Not hard to guess since Ion Corvin isn’t around.
For a few seconds, I stare at the guy. Then, I send him a flying kiss and gently close the door without disturbing his sleep.
My head swivels left and right as I lose the trail of the hot guy’s clone. Suddenly, I freeze, with my neck curved at an awkward angle.
Paul is talking with the guy I've been tracking on a bench.
I draw closer to eavesdrop, hiding behind a big ass tree trunk.
“Your plan succeeded, Paul. You have Laura, and I don’t owe you anything anymore.”
“Yes, Max, we’re even now.”
"Oh, before I forget, I had a lovely chat with Laura. I have never met any other strigoi like her." A chuckle follows, and I grit my teeth, refraining from taking a peek. I bet his smile is gorgeous. "And Alisa is great. It would have been great to stay longer with her as Ion Corvin, but I might have been discovered if I extended my stay."
These two piss me off big time. I dart out of my hiding spot and walk up to them.
Folding my arms over my chest, I give them my death glare. “Which one of you assholes wanna share your exploits with me?”