Through the streets I ran, a shadow in the night.

I came from the hill I had always done - from the east and I made my way down the curve of the crescent that made the shape of the city. I sped through the larger emptier places, going straight to my chosen destinations. There were sixteen stables and twelve cattle sheds I had marked out, where my hundred expecting horses and one hundred expecting cows were waiting for their glorious deaths.

I did not move very fast - I had yet to experience that supernatural gift of ever I were to get it - but I went as silent as I knew. That was as quiet as death, for I was death. My feet and claws were wrapped in rags to stop them from making any harsh or obvious sounds, and I had perfected the art of killing silently. I knew how to kill well, for a neck slash or a stab in the right place usually ended life swiftly without any need for cries being made.

A stab to the jugular or the carotid arteries in the throat is a place to find quick bleeding and the subject will go unconscious after ten seconds at maximum. A good knife in the heart will get a person down quickly too. Easily accessible is the eye, and the brain sits right behind this, but one must be fast. Then there is the artery beneath the armpit, the one on the inside of the thigh. Any of these points will give death quickly and painfully. Yet I know the best one of all, taught to me and my brother when we were training as senshi, warriors of the kenku. The neck stab, the stem stab, right where the brain joins the rest of the body, giving it's life to everything else.

That is where I usually aimed, and that is how I kill the majority of the time. It is near instantaneous and very easy to get wrong. But I try every time.

Then try with a thrust to the throat.

Through the streets I ran, and it was by the third block that I realised someone was following me. Confused, as I had not been followed any of my nights before, I edged in a wide arc. True enough the shadow that I saw skipping over the same fences and roofs went in almost the same angles. I frowned, frustrated and tried to push myself harder. I got to the first stable and rushed the horses there. My naginata out I reached and slashed three necks in a consecutive row. The last one whined and I threw it an angry look. Because of it I only had a single moment in which to wait, suck in one lungful of the sweet burnt meat smell - then dash.

Looking back I saw the figure pause and bend over the beast who had made the noise. Rolling my eyes I swung away, running and jumping for the next destination I was headed to. Clearly this being had sentiment. They were stupid.

But it but struck me that I could hamper my follower with hopeful salvation if they liked the animals. Therefore I paused at a kennel I had met once night before and severely hurt the new dog there. Now limping the creature whined as he struggled to get to safer ground and I had to satisfy myself with the brief half scent of death.

It seemed to slow down progress for - hurrah! - at my next appointment I checked and I had no followers. Grinning in my eyes I spent time locating the aorta of each cow and rejoiced as I saw the panic rise in their eyes. The scent of death hit me and I could take large lungfuls of the stuff, feeding my addiction. “Cause chaos,” Quansaldo had said.

Well, I was stealing the future of the milk industry. I blew a loud raspberry to the last dying pregnant cow before I twisted around and began heading out of the shed.

But I was stopped, stunned. For standing in the doorway, framed in moonlight was a figure. And she was feathered. And she was black. I tilted my head, rubbing my bare chest as I looked astounded at another kenku, dressed in a thick woollen tunic. She had a shiny silver thing in her hand and had huge eyes the stared.

Pausing, I tried to think. Then I understood as I recognised her from the time when I had been sent to the woods to spy on a group heading into a vampire castle. She had been among them, she who Quansaldo had marked as my enemy.

Or at least the servant of his - our enemy.

I straightened and tightened my grip on my naginata, preparing for war as the succulent scent of death began to filter away.

“Enemy,” I grunted in greeting.

But her reply was better. In fact I hadn't not expected it. She gazed at me with utter disbelief.

Her beak opened.

As she whispered in awe.

“... Avin?”