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CHAPTER 2- WALKER
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Walker Caloway. A name that makes most people scowl. It’s been like that forever, since the day he made himself known. Does he regret the choices he’s made? No, not really. Are there reasons why people hate him? Yeah, there are.
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Snake. He’s a shapeshifter, namely a snake. Which doesn’t exactly help his reputation. The problem is, he’s also a vampire. A deadly combination, the two of them. His dark grey hair, red eyes with dilated pupils, the parts of his skin that are scaled, his.. Fangs. They all make the obvious evident. He’s one of the worst species to exist in the world- and one of the rarest.
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There are downsides to being both a snake shifter and a vampire. Because only one is an immortal being, he could live forever without aging, but he could also be killed by anything- unlike a vampire, one that can only be killed by a wooden stake or through the sun. Good news is, he doesn’t have to worry about the sun- even though his skin is slightly sensitive. Bad news is, if he has the intent of doing so, his bite could kill any living- and some unliving- species.
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Of course, the being of his existence is only an attribute to the reason why Walker Caloway is so disliked. Actions are what determine a person- not just what species or race they are- we all know that.
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-Walker Caloway: POV-
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Some things are better kept as secrets. It’s simple: Things that could hurt your reputation should be kept secret. Things that could come back and slap you in the face should be kept secret. Things that could potentially hurt other people, those should be kept secret. I’ve never been good at the last one.
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Growing up, I was taught that you need to look out for number one, because nobody else is going to keep tabs on you. They don’t care if you suffer. If you live or die. That’s just the way it is.
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I straighten my tie, remembering how I used to pretend my father’s ties where nooses when I was younger. People told my mother I was a messed up kid, and that may have been true. My hair flops in my face, and I grumble. I wish I could skip doing my hair today, but it would look unprofessional.
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I push my hair back with some water and rub gel into it. Slicking it back, I stare at my reflection. My pupils widen and then slit quickly, and I run my tongue over my teeth, my fangs feeling oddly sharper than before.
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“You look nice, Caloway.” My father says from behind me. I glance at him, seeing his gray hair slicked back identically to mine. Everyone always tells me I’m a spitting image of my father. And it’s true. We both have dark grey hair, dilated pupils, pale skin, the same face, same height. He looks like he could be my older brother, not my father. My mother is tanned, red-eyed, and average height. I only took her red-colored eyes, and everything else seems to belong to my father. Sometimes I wish he would disappear, so these features would become my own- not Cassian Caloway’s features.
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“Thank you.” I reply, trying not to roll my eyes. It’s hard not to, mainly because it’s like he’s complimenting himself- that’s how much I look like him. It’s sickening, really.
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“You finished yesterday’s job, did you not? Someone told me it wasn’t so.” He says in a low, raspy voice. I glare at him from my spot in the mirror. He raises his eyebrows, looking at me expectantly. I clench my teeth, rolling my eyes to the back of my head. He’s got nerve, doesn’t he?
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“Yes, Cassian. I finished yesterday’s job. Ambrose opening his big mouth, I’m guessing?”
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“Fancy guesswork, son. I withhold all further comments. Good luck with today’s job.” Cassian says, leaving me to stare at myself in the mirror. I sigh, rubbing my temples and exiting the restroom to my bedroom. I slip on my vest, and then my jacket.
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Today’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?
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Caloway and Ambrose. The way people list our names, mine being first, and his being second, I think that’s where it started. Ambrose’s personal disdain for me and growing hatred. However, I think it magnified the day I told him he didn’t have the guts to live.
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“You’re sick, you know that Caloway? Sick.”
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“I’m well aware, Ambrose. But hey, if you don’t like sick then why don’t you crawl back home to your mommy? This job ain’t for you if you can’t handle some roughing-up.”
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Ambrose wipes the blood from his split lip, which I just cut with a firm punch to the mouth. His cheekbone is bruised, and blood trickles down his chin, dripping down his shirt. I restrain myself from biting him, the scent of the blood tempting me. I just had a drink earlier from some girl- sucked her dry actually, with no regrets- but I still found myself thirsty.
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“In this business, you have to be sick, Ambrose. Otherwise, you get nothing done. Otherwise, you don’t have the guts to get the job done. You don’t have the guts to live.”
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Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe Ambrose and I could have worked very well together. But that all disappeared once I insulted him, and I don’t regret it. Despite the fact I’m literally part snake and live up to that- no matter what anyone says about Ambrose- he’s worse. He’s worse in the way that if he’s not saying anything to your face, he’s definitely talking shit about you behind your back. The worst part is- everyone likes Ambrose. But everyone hates my guts because.. Well, I tell it as it is. And people who don’t like that can cry me a river, build a bridge and get the fuck over it.
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“Caloway!” A voice calls after me, and I can already see the blood on his shirt. I told him to keep it a clean kill, but it seems he can almost never follow orders. I look at him, drag my eyes to his feet and back to his eyes.
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Ambrose is about an inch or two shorter than me, and he has tanned skin, brownish black hair he keeps in a ponytail, and dark black eyes. Many would consider him a handsome man, because he has the looks and a charming nature. But I know different. Ambrose Emseray is a werewolf, a silently bloodthirsty one at that.
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“Ambrose? I said I wanted a clean kill. What’s all this?” I gesture to his blood-stained white shirt. I grimace, clenching my teeth. Ambrose simply smiles, shaking his head.
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“Well, Walker.. What can I say? I couldn’t help myself. You can’t blame me- after all, the man did cause our gang a whole lot of trouble.” He gestures with his hands, acting blameless. I quickly grabbed his collar, peering in his face.
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“Listen here, Ambrose Emseray. If you ever disobey my orders again..” I smile, and I bet I look like my dad right about now. “.. I will personally inject you with as much venom as it takes to render you useless. Got it?” I pick him up by the collar, and he grimaces. Once I let go, I hear him hiss.
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“Thank you for completing the job,” I say, smoothing over my coat. “Just, next time, follow my orders to a tee. Alrighty? Good. Glad that’s settled.” I say without waiting for an answer. When I turn around, I feel Ambrose shooting daggers at my head- but really, I could care less. He’s getting too high and mighty, someone needs to shove him back in his place. But seeing him just reminds me of the pain I felt. When I shot her.
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"Is it worth it? How quickly we all seem to fall?" She asked me, sitting at my feet. 278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj0AozCYbC1
I cocked my gun, sliding the bullet into place.
"It seems not. You gain nothing, Walker Caloway. Yet you gain everything. Still, you're all alone. It's a shame really. You're so innocent, yet not at the same time."278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx4V2AOxJbS
They have the same eyes. The same bottomless black pits for eyes. Only, hers were somehow attractive. 278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6j9EeRqwl4
"I hope you regret it. One day you will. Because darling, even though you don't think about it now.. We had something. You loved-"
I shoot her right between the eyes before she says it. I loved her.278Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpMkdrrZ0dE
