“The pc word is employee.”
“Whatever new fangled word you want to use.” he replied cheekily waving her away. “Did you ever try for the Fellowship for emerging artists here?”
Amelia shivered and hunched in her coat as a cool moist breeze came off the water. “Of course not. I’m not that good.”
“Well then you must. It would be a good thing for you to get out there,” Kristoff declared.
“Why yes Master, whatever you say Masterrrr.”
“That’s much better.”
“Just watch me leave your ass here. I have a job other than this one. One that pays me money.”
“Now, now, you’re repaying a debt,” Kristoff said swinging toward the pyramid sculpture. “Besides, what would I do without you to reign my ego in?”
Amelia followed him muttering under her breath, “Your head would expand until it exploded like and overripe squash and you’d died of spontaneous combustion…”
“See,” He called back. “It’s that graceless way you say nasty things under your breath that endears you to me as my favorite employee ever.”
Kristoff seemed to have lost interest in the sculpture garden and was moving swiftly toward the abandoned factory. The ground was covered in cracked cement pathways, with weeds growing beside and through. It somehow reminded Amelia of the sculpture of the tornado with the same gut wrenching foreboding. She followed the back of Kristoff’s coat as it moved on into the gloom. He paused to wait for her at the gaping warehouse doors.
“Well? Are you coming? Or are you still chicken?”
Amelia snarled silently and followed him inside. As they walked they disturbed a few night birds in the rafters the feathers falling like grey snow to the floor. A place like this was was a temptation to the worst element of vampires - ferals. Those too far gone on the drug-tainted blood they took from addicts and whores on the streets. Junkies in more than one sense of the word - and just as crazed. Their bodies resembled zombies much more than the sleek predators that stalked 5th avenue and the many slick nightclubs. Their skin was pulled tight over their bones, their long nails were caked with gore and twisted like a rabid cat’s. Overall they were a disgusting breed of vampire, and even poisonous if they scratched or bit you. But then with as unsanitary as the buggers were, it made sense any open wounds they made would fester.
“Did you know that this was once an industrial landfill?” Kristoff said perkily.
“Yeesss. I am aware of local history,” growled Amelia, still on pins and needles with her senses screaming. Kristoff walked to where part of the wall was caved in, and looked straight across the water to the lights of the twinkling city beyond. He snapped a few shots.
“Amelia, lyublyu” Kristoff said calmly, “Would you please hand me my cane?”
Amelia shook her head in peeved disbelief. What did he need with his fancy stick now? She paced forward and handed it to him. Kristoff carefully put his camera away and then, in a lightening swift move, he pulled a sword from the cane and stabbed backwards as if to impale her upon it.
Amelia was too stunned to react, flinching from the coming blow. But instead of feeling the stab of the blade she expected, Amelia registered a deep thump behind her. Glancing back she looked to the factory beyond. And there, in a roiling pile of decay, a feral was disintegrating on the floor. Amelia’s eyes went wide. Then looked at Kristoff who was once more fiddling with the settings on his camera.
“Damn annoying, that’s what it is. Parasites, ruining my evening.” He muttered to himself.
“You…you know?”
Chapter 7
`“Don’t you?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I thought we had such things in common.”
“Right. How did you know? And why would you want another hunter with you?”
Kristoff shrugged, “I like my art, I like it at night, and I thought another hunter along would make it easier, might be fun.” He grinned winningly. “I thought as another artist from a well-known hunting family you would be someone I’d like to know, could relate to. We have many things in common, and being new here I thought I could use a friend - I thought you might need one as well.” He finished pointedly. “As to how I knew? I knew what you were doing that night. Who you were stalking. Your grandmother’s? Really? You do lie poorly, I hope your skill as a hunter is better than your bad attempts at subterfuge.” He quirked his lips up the side.
“Train me.”
“I thought you were a Dagda. Shouldn’t you know?” Kristoff asked curiously.
Amelia flushed with embarrassment and looked away. “I was not trained.”
He seemed to consider her statement a moment and crossed over to look down on her through the gloom. Kristoff ’s eyes were again sparking in a way that seemed to belie his own magic. “You were untrained?”
Amelia lowered her head, reddening with humiliation.
“Well, you have balls chasing down Nikolais by yourself then. It’s a start.” He smiled.
“You’ll teach me then?”
“You have a full time job, and training has full-time demands. Do you think you could balance both?”
“I…I’ll…quit. The coffee shop that is.” Amelia wheedled.
`Kristoff shook his head. “You know you will not be paid to hunt. How will you live?”
Amelia looked away, dismayed. He harrumphed playfully. “You’re giving up easily. Convince me.” He purred. “I recall you said you have time after we have our outings to yourself. Saturdays and nights? Yes?”
Amelia narrowed her eyes at him.
“Look, we both know you’re patrolling Nikolais’s neighborhood.” Kristoff chastised. “Why lie? But your time would be better spent learning how to fight vampires than sitting on your heels waiting to lose in fights against them.”
“What are you suggesting?…”
“As an untrained hunter you’re little more than vampire bait - especially to a master like NIkolais. I’d be happy to take the time to teach you to protect yourself at least.”
Amelia nodded her head vehemently.
“But one rule: no hero worship shit,” he snickered.
“Excuse me? You think I’ll be revering your lazy ass? You obviously were called - like me - to hunt, but you’re on vacation? Hunters don’t vacation.”
He grinned. “I do.” And, shoving his cane at her, he strode further into the factory.
The rest of the night Amelia followed Kristoff’s footsteps around the floors of the factory. Watching him and wondering. He had to be one of the clan members from overseas. What clan? Why was he spending time photographing urban ruins when he should be out fighting the evil on the street? Amelia was impressed with his skill - he’d killed that feral blind - but not so much with his dedication to the job. What hunter witch took vacation? As usual she came around to the decision that it came down to breeding. That was, Kristoff was probably part of the old eastern European clans whose money and lineage had made them overly pampered and lazy. There were rumors of a joint ruling body there of the families and other supernaturals. Even cross breeding…Amelia would learn from him…but never come to emulate him.
Around midnight, Kristoff seemed to wrap it up, looking over his camera after one last shot from the upper floor out to the water beyond. “Well, We’re done for the night.”
“Then what do we do first?” Amelia asked excitedly.
“What do you mean?” He asked looking at her quizzically.
“Aren’t you going to teach me?”
He waved her off, “I’m done tonight. I just want to go home and look these over in my dark room. Besides I have to decide which photo I will be making you sculpt.”
“What?” Amelia sputtered. “I’m still to sculpt in the midst of all this?!?”
Kristoff frowned at her. “Of course. There’s more to life than hunting lyublyu When you’ve done it as long as I have you learn this well. For a bit you need to stop staking Nikolais out. It’s dangerous and you’ll be of no use training wit
h only the little sleep you gain on a rooftop in the cold.” Then Kristoff faded into the night.
Amelia gritted her teeth and ran out into the darkness after him, but he’d somehow just vanished into thin air. Asshole. No stakeouts? She gritted her teeth. It made some sense, but him ordering her around rankled.
She walked back to the metro station with her hands jammed in her pockets from the cold. She couldn’t decide if she liked this version of Kristoff more…or much, much less.
Chapter 8
Amelia came home to her shabby apartment to sleep, but at the door she was immediately faced with a new steel monstrosity with new doorknob and a thumb print scanner. Above the new door a camera was faced into the hall.
“Uhhhh.” Amelia stared. She knocked as well as she could at the door, hoping the sound would make it through steel. “Jack?!”
An intercom clicked on. “Oh! Amelia. Come right in.”
“There’s no doorknob!” She yelled back.
“Dammit, you don’t need to yell! Feedback!…Ughh.”
“Ok. How exactly do I get in?”
“Use the scanner, your prints are already loaded.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes and pressed her thumb to the scanner, a whirr and several deep clunks resounded then the door swung open. “Don’t you think this is a little overboard?” She asked as she walked into his control room.
He looked up, “There have recently been some undesirables in the neighborhood - better safe than sorry.”
“Hmpf. This whole neighborhood is undesirables, that’s never bothered you before. And how did you get my prints?”
Jack waved the question away without turning to look at her. “I lifted them from a Mountain Dew bottle you’d tossed.”
“Ignoring how invasive that is. Should I be more worried than usual?” Amelia asked carefully. “Have the mafia moved in or something?”
“Or something..” Jack agreed vaguely, then started typing and muttering. She wouldn’t be getting anything else out of him that night.
Amelia sighed and walked into her own little room. Kristoff the arrogant was right. She wouldn’t be much use drunk on lack of sleep. Turning on the old tree lamp by her door, she beheld all the drawings, clay work plans, and steel rolls gathering dust. Until now, Amelia hadn’t noticed that the years were evident in their passing by how filthy most of her art supplies were.
In a corner, one of her better sculptures was covered by old clothing - having been used as a coat rack. Amelia grimaced. How proud she’d been of that piece when she’d first finished it. Shown it. Her Junior end of year exposition. Amelia walked over to it and uncovered the sculpture to see if she could still remember what she had been thinking when she had created it.
The clothing fell away, and a sensuous form was revealed. A dancer. Not truly recognizable as a human body - but made of gorgeous suggestive lines climbing to the ceiling in the swirling pose of a belly dancer whose arms were reaching for the sky.
She remembered it had been a dancer from that hookah joint she and her last boyfriend Greg had frequented. Amelia smiled despite herself and ran her fingers down the sensuous lines. The fancy beaded curtains, the scent of incense, and jasmine shisha rose again in her memory, and she smiled softly.
Amelia briefly reflected that Kristoff for all his pretension would enjoy the place. Yeah, but she better not introduce him to that. He already had a lasissez faire opinion of hunting. He would never teach her anything if she distracted him further with new and interesting sights. But she could go some day on her own. Maybe skip an annoying family dinner one Saturday and just do something herself.
Amelia sighed, yeah, like that was going to happen.
She threw her clothes back over the sculpture. All Kristoff did was inspire dreams of a life that was beyond her reach, she’d already lost her scholarship to Pratt. No, she had something important to do before she could return to any semblance of a normal life.
Mona needed to be avenged.
Nikolais needed to die.
Then only, and maybe only then, would she return to her art.
The next day at Kathy’s Koffee was tortuous. Kathy was still on her new search for Mr. Right. Today in a flashy hot pink lipstick that clashed with her lime green 50s housewife dress.
Now there was a sight Amelia would rather un-see.
As soon as her shift ended, Amelia was running with haste to the studio-filled factory. Amelia skidded to a stop in front of Kristoff’s desk late, and she hoped she’d beaten him there like the day before. But unlike the day before, Kristoff sat waiting for her impatiently.
“You’re late.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You were late yesterday too.”
“Now wait just a fucking minute. YOU were late yesterday, I came in first.”
“Late.”
Amelia slivered her eyes. “You can’t know that. You weren’t there.”
He grinned widely and got up holding a new manila portfolio of pictures. “No, but you just told me.”
“NO! I…AH!…SCREW YOU!” He smiled teasingly. “You were fucking with me just to get a rise?” He shrugged unapologetically. “YOU…YOU…ASSHAT!” He giggled. Honest-to -God giggled like a naughty school boy. And Amelia started to wonder again if the help was worth Kristoff's obvious madness. “Whatever,” said Amelia dismissively.
“Now,” He continued, as if he'd never been a tittering mad man. “I’ve decided which sculpture you will do.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes, Kristoff seemed a little too excited by this announcement. “Ok. Hit me,” She said crossing her arms over her chest.
Without warning Kristoff's arm flashed out swiftly toward her stomach, and to Amelia’s surprise, she caught it before he did in fact hit her. “Good reflexes,” He mused. “I can work with that… Now, here’s the picture you will do.” Kristoff rummaged around and withdrew the photo of the couple on the balcony kissing. Amelia was aghast. The sexual tension in the pair as they cleaved to each other would, in fact, make for a gorgeous sculpture. But she didn’t want to make it for him. Much less at all. It was just…he had…too much invested in that shot.
Amelia frowned. “No.”
“No?” Kristoff asked raising those dark wings of eyebrows. “No?”
Amelia cleared her throat in annoyance. “Of course Masterrrrr.”
Kristoff's smile was wide with bright teeth. “Better.” Amelia slumped in defeat. “Now,” he said. “I’m going out clubbing tonight, so I won’t be needing your services.”
“But…”
“Don’t worry you can use the time to plan your sculpture.” He ruffled her hair like a kid and walked out. Somehow that last stung, she was a grown woman, she didn’t need homework and a pat on the head!
Amelia settled at the desk and watched him go. What was it they said in those smutty romance novels? It was almost better to watch him leave… he had a rather nice ass. Amelia smirked to herself.
Amelia found that despite her earlier annoyance, it was nice to be on a drafting board again. The charcoal was soon smoothly sliding over the vellum and slipping from her hands like the touch of her fingers on the skin of a lover. The lines of bodies had always entranced her, the tenuous tension of muscle and skin. The push and pull, electric, of attraction. Amelia had several ideas so far, and a few of them were truly worth consideration.
Amelia’s concentration was broken however, when the door to Kristoff’s brother’s studio opened and shut. Amelia glanced up, the walls of Kristoff’s brother’s studio were made of little more than frosted glass and she could see a form moving about within but little else. A great curiosity started creeping up on her. What was Kristoff’s brother like? Was he darkly handsome and frustratingly immature like Kristoff? Could she ask him who the girl was on the stool?
Amelia got up and crept to the door of the studio, and knocked lightly.
“Um, hi, I’m Kristoff’s…partner…I understand you’re his brother…”
And when the door
opened, Amelia was struck dumb. On the other side was what had to be Kristoff’s twin. A gorgeous young man with braided hair down his back, and an all too knowing smile that hinted he’d expected her all along. But something about him called out a warning in the pit of Amelia’s stomach as gallantly gestured her inside.
“I have heard about you.” He said simply, picking his brush back up delicately to start on the large nude he had obviously been in the midst of. He was dressed more plainly than Kristoff, black ripped skinny jeans with paint stains and a plain white button down. The long fastidiously braided tail of his hair reached just past the band of his pants, and was tied off by a small black satin ribbon. The only differences between the twins seemed to be that, while Kristoff’s eyes were dark navy, his were a strange amethyst, and while Kristoff seemed to have a streamlined but muscular build - his brother was all sleek lines. Otherwise - they were identical.
Amelia cleared her throat. “You have me at a disadvantage, your name is…?”
He grinned as if enjoying a private joke, then spoke, “Kolya.”
“Your parents liked the K’s huh?” Asked Amelia fidgeting for no apparent reason. He shrugged. “So,” She tried again. “What have you heard about me?”
Kolya glanced at her and back at his work holding the long thin brush poised. “I have been told that you are tenacious, and an aspiring sculptor… A Dagda unlike any we have seen before.”
“So do you…hunt as well?”
Kolya pursed his lips, “Pardon my rudeness, but it is an archaic behavior much more suited to the past. I pursue beauty.”
Amelia glanced at the nude she had admired. “I noticed.” She replied quietly. He smirked and set the paint brush down before walking over to Amelia.
“So you like that one?” He asked, crossing his slender arms and tilting his head toward the seated nude.
Amelia looked at him nervously and nodded. Something about him was…unsettling.
He paced to the lovely painting of the sitting girl and picked the large canvas up off the floor. Something wistful crossed his features. “Yes, I think it is one of my best as well. But it is probably due to the subject. She was…special.”
A Guide to Vampire Hunting: ...and other failures (Alchemy Inc. Book 1) Page 5