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I decided to add a few recurring original characters to my fanfic stories. Not part of the full time cast of The Dancing Lady, Aola, Rania, Tizz, and Tara. They might just make appearances from time to time. This is the first one, Gazzer, a human female bounty hunter, that becomes obsessed with catching the crew of The Dancing Lady, especially Tara after she frees the others and they make their escape from her, leaving her abandoned on an unknown jungle planet. She was created by Etsy artist, Adzhi Diaz Art
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I was spotted. I met his gaze across the canal; his eyes were clouded with mystery, or perhaps with the miasma of fumes coming from the burning rubbish he was standing beside. I panicked and fled down the alleys until I was sure I was safe, but then I turned around and there he was, standing like a statue at the end of the street. He was tall, blond, handsome—perfect in a way that made me feel queasy. He had eyes as tawny as a cat's, and we stared at one another in silence for several grueling seconds.
"You smell like shit," he told me.
"That would be the horse shit I stepped in while I was running away from you," I replied.
He took a scented handkerchief and held it over his nose, which I found very insulting; I wouldn't have stepped in the manure if he hadn't been chasing me through the city.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
"Nothing in particular," he said. "I just wanted to see how far you would run."
I wish I would have given him what for. His voice was carefully neutral, but I still felt condescended to—patronized, even. Still, he was the only other vampire I'd met since I left my sire's service, so I couldn't help but be curious about him.
"Can we meet again under better circumstances?" I asked.
"Only if you give your word that you will wash with very hot water," he said, and I indulged in the act of rolling my eyes.
"Yes, my liege. I promise to wash the shit off my leg before I come and see you again."
"Very well," he sniffed. "Meet me at the Silver Squatter tomorrow night." He turned to leave, so I spoke up again.
"And what may I call you?"
He turned his head just enough to be able to meet my eyes. "Louis," he said. "Louis Tohmels. And yourself?"
"Garbhán MacEachthighearna. A pleasure to meet you," I added, thinking it was only polite.
"Mm," said Louis, turning away once more. "The pleasure is yours, I'd wager."
Gods, what I would have given to have punched the daylights out of him. But he was my only lead, so I kept my peace. For now.
The next night, I appeared at the Squatter almost as soon as the sun had set, keeping my gaze down on the floor as much as possible to keep my eyes from luring some unsuspecting drunken sop away from his tankard. There, sitting in a darkened corner of the establishment like a sightless worm in a cave, was Louis. I sat across from him and the bastard let the silence drag on like a corpse behind a horse.
"So," I said, after languishing in the dark for a full ten minutes.
"What do you want to know?" he cut in, fanning himself with a delicate silk hand fan.
I relaxed with relief. That was the avenue I wanted to pursue. With all luck, it would prove to be a fruitful evening.
