Hugs and thank you to PNWgal for her help on this one. She took the rough parts and sanded them smooth.
Cleaners Don’t Cry
Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The three pairs of black heeled boots were in perfect unison as they walked single file down the dimly lit hallway, their sound echoing off of the tile walls. Trina cradled the weight of her flame thrower as she stared straight ahead at the black leather jacket in front of her. Their leader, her mentor and sire: Yvette. Trina knew that behind her, Nicole was staring ahead at her own back. As a Cleaner, this was the hardest part of her job, but also the most important. The Death Squad was only called for the ultimate sentence: not just to take down one of their own, but to do so by fire.
They entered a cinderblock room and stood three abreast, with Yvette in the middle. The condemned was chained to the wall, red welts where the silver links touched his bare skin. Usually the appearance of the Cleaners with their weapons caused the doomed party to struggle, scream, plead; their yellow eyes wild with fear. But this vampire was almost relieved to see them, his eyes calm with the knowledge it would be over soon.
Yvette recited his crime, his conviction by the ruling Vampire Council, his punishment. At her command, the three Cleaners raised their weapons and fired. But Trina’s tongue of fire did not shoot across the room as usual. Her weapon backfired, engulfing her in flames. And instead of the screams of the accused, Trina heard the screams coming from her own throat.
Trina screamed as she thrust open the lid to her freezer and sat up. She stared at her hands, turning them over and over, not believing they hadn’t turned to ash. She looked around her and finally realized she was in her own freezer room. Safe.
There was a knock on the door and her lady’s maid, Mary, entered. “Are you alright, Miss Trina?” she asked as she reached for a large towel and walked over to the freezer, handing it to her mistress. “Let me help you out. There you go. Oh my, you’re shaking! Do you need to sit down?”
Trina wrapped herself in the towel, rubbing at the frost still clinging to her damp skin. “No, I’m fine, Mary. Really. Just another nightmare.”
“Yes, Miss. Who would you like for breakfast? Steven and Jack are on the first rotation.”
“Hmm, Jack gets too excited. I better take Steven this time.”
“Very well, Miss. I’ll let him know. When you get out of your shower, I’ll braid your hair,” Mary replied and left the room.
When Mary returned Trina was wrapped in a silk robe and sitting at her dressing table, her long hair still slightly damp. Mary stood behind her and deftly began to weave her hair into intricate braids.
“Was it the same nightmare as usual? Miss Yvette’s accident?”
Trina nodded. “Yes, except… except this time…” Mary stopped braiding and gazed at her mistress’ reflection in the mirror.
“Except what?” she asked gently.
“Except this time…it was my weapon that misfired. I was the one who died.” Trina’s voice was barely a whisper.
There was a moment or two of silence. Mary patted Trina’s shoulder and resumed her braiding. “I know how hard this has been on you,” she said softly. “You miss her a great deal. We all do.” Mary wrapped the long braids around Trina’s head and secured them in place. “Steven is waiting for you downstairs. You’ll feel better after you eat.”
Twenty minutes later, Mary entered the sitting room and found Trina staring out the window as the young freshie lay dozing on the leather couch. “Are you still hungry, Miss? Would you like a second serving?”
Trina turned from the window and smiled at her longtime servant and confidante. “No thank you, Mary, I’m fine. Steven is a little wobbly yet; perhaps you could help him out.”
“Yes, of course, Miss,” Mary said as she helped Steven to his feet and let him lean on her shoulder. “By the way, Miss Nicole is here to see you. Shall I show her in?”
“I can find my own way, thanks,” Nicole said as she strode into the room on her long legs. Mary scowled at her and left the room with her charge.
Nicole looked after them as she removed her jacket and then turned to Trina. “Don’t you get tired of all the ‘Miss this’ and ‘Miss that?’ That woman needs to join the 21st century!” Nicole plopped onto the couch previously occupied by Steven and draped her jacket on the armrest.
Trina smiled at her best friend. “It’s the era she grew up in. She’s actually made some advances over the years – she lets me call her by her first name, now.”
“Big whoop,” Nicole said as she stared at her best friend. “Are you okay? You don’t look well. Maybe you should have that second freshie Mary offered.”
Trina sighed. “I don’t need any more blood. I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine,” Nicole persisted. She eyed her friend. “Are you nervous about the Council meeting this evening? It becomes official: youngest vampire ever to be chosen head of the Death Squad. Quite an honor.”
Trina didn’t respond, turning to look out the window again as the last bit of sun slipped below the horizon.
“Trina?” Nicole couldn’t hide the concern in her voice. “What’s the matter? Why, you’re not… you’re not crying, are you? Cleaners don’t cry.”
Trina wiped her eyes quickly and turned to her friend. “I know. That was one of Yvette’s first rules,” she said with a weak smile. “But last night…”
“Another nightmare?”
Trina nodded. “But this time I was the one who died.” She saw the shock on Nicole’s face. “I wonder if it’s a message; that I’m not ready to take the job.”
“Nonsense. Yvette always intended for you to take over after her.”
“I don’t think she expected it to be this soon. I’m only175. Yvette was 198 when she took over the position.” She sat down next to Nicole. “But there’s something else, too. Last week, when we had that execution…I…I hesitated in firing.” She hung her head. “Maybe I need to go back to human collections. I don’t think I can handle the responsibility of being Head Cleaner.”
Nicole reached over and took Trina’s hand. “It was our first DS call since the accident. It’s understandable.”
Trina pulled her hand away brusquely and stood up. “No. A Death Squad Cleaner has no room for hesitation. No room for emotions. Cool, Calm, Collected. Yvette’s Three C’s. That applies to all Cleaners in all divisions. But the DS has to be held to the highest standard. She drilled that into us. Hesitation is not acceptable.”
Nicole stood up to face Trina, glad to see the fire in her spirit and the flash of silver in her eyes. “You’re right; it’s not. So don’t do it again. Rely on your training. Your training is your strength. You are Yvette’s sireling and her protégé. It’s time to make her proud.” She softened her voice and once again took Trina’s hand. “You can do this. You were meant to do this.”
Trina nodded as she squeezed Nicole’s hand before letting it go. She straightened up and walked to the door of the sitting room. “Mary, bring me my leather jacket,” she called. Nicole put on her own jacket as Mary helped Trina slip into hers.
“Ready for the Council ceremony?” Nicole asked.
Trina nodded. “Yes, now I am. Thanks, Nicole.”
“You know I’ve always got your back.”
The End.
Your writing just gets better and better with every fic you post.
)
It's great to see below the hard shell that the Cleaners show the world, and see the (former) human beneath, with fears and undertainties. Cleaners are kinda like soldiers--elite ones, like SEALs or Green Berets. They are the best of the best, the most highly trained and disciplined members of the vampire community. But accidents happen, and even the elite must have their moments of doubt and fear.
Not too dark, but still, fascinating to see what goes on in the mind of a vamp whose function is to put down other vamps.
Glad you liked the glimpse of life behind the leather. 
