Marcus Hamilton leaned back in his comfortable black leather office chair and stared out through the windows at the city spread out before the Wolfram and Hart building. He looked out at the stars shining in the night sky and took a deep breath closing his eyes and he imagined himself…

A sharp pain in his head brought him back to reality, his masters reminding him whom he belonged to now. Squinting his eyes and groaning in pain, Marcus reached out and grabbed a handful of tissues to stem the flow of blood from his nose. A knock at his door signaled the entrance of his assistant. A short man with a balding head who also happened to be one of the many zombies that worked for Wolfram and Hart was the fifth assistant that Marcus had gone through. He was punished too much when he killed his assistants especially when they annoyed him, but this last assistant was also his first assistant whom he had killed in a fit of rage some nine hundred years ago.

Marcus was glad his nose was bleeding because zombies smelled bad to his heightened senses. Rotting meat and flesh was never his favorite smell.

“Sir your eleven ‘o clock appointment his here.” His assistant, Rolan, said not bother to help his boss with the flowing blood. He like all his assistants knew there were times that their masters punished Marcus for transgressions that they knew nothing about.

“Cancel it.” Marcus growled. He wasn’t going to allow a client to see him bleeding. They needed to know that Marcus was nearly invulnerable if not completely invulnerable. A bloody nose would wipe that idea out of their heads.

“Yes, sir. Also the vampire wants to talk with you when you have a moment.” Rolan said then left the office to tell the client that the meeting was postponed to a later date.

Marcus growled. He hated vampires as much as he hated zombies.

Eventually his nose stopped bleeding meaning the rupture in his brain had healed. He threw away the blood tissues, then stepped into the private bathroom in his office to clean up his face a