by Anne Malcom
He folded his arms, the seams on his suit stretching to accommodate the motion, and his considerable biceps. “I would like you to acquire information for our mutual benefit,” he corrected, obviously choosing to ignore my pop culture references.
“You mean spy,” I argued. “I’m Switzerland. Completely neutral.” I paused. “Despite killing humans for food and any other creature that doesn’t like my fashion sense. Regardless, I’m not adding ‘spy’ to the long list of things that I am.”
He gazed at me, menace flickering around him like smoke “I’m your king. I could command you.”
I stared back, refusing to flinch in the face of what a lot of vampires would have bowed down to. You know, to avoid a beheading. I was not a lot of vampires. “You could try,” I challenged.
To my utter surprise, he grinned. “I believe I would enjoy every moment of that. But you’re not stupid, Isla. You know that this faction is gaining traction and momentum, despite your feigning ignorance.” He paused. “Though if you repeat that I said that, I’ll have your tongue cut out.” His voice was smooth, cultured as it wrapped around the promise. The cold resolve in his eyes told me he wouldn’t blink twice while doing such a thing, despite the witty repertoire we seemed to have or his increased tolerance for my bullshit. His cold eyes continued to focus on me. “You’re very concerned with your own survival, so I’ll let you do the math as to how long a vampire like you would survive in the new world order that despises humans and any vampires who sympathize with, or marry them. I’ll make sure they don’t succeed in overthrowing me, but that doesn’t mean they won’t take a few choice targets down with them. You’re at the top of their list with your dead human husband, despite the years that have passed.” The verbal barb found its purchase. “Vampires don’t forget,” he murmured.
He stepped around me, his arm brushing mine. “In addition to that, think of the lack of assassination attempts you’d have to field if I were to exterminate all of those responsible.” His eyes didn’t change, the emeralds glittering with cold resolve.
His implication of the knowledge of my family’s involvement was crystal clear. I wasn’t surprised, as I’d learned a lot about King Rick in this few minutes. He smelled like soap and expensive cologne. He could make my panties wet with one stare. His biceps were impressive. He wasn’t cruel but wouldn’t hesitate to maim or execute me if it suited his needs. And he wasn’t stupid.
“You’ll do this, Isla,” he murmured in my ear. “I’ll be waiting for you to come to me with what I need.”
Then the door opened and closed, and I was left alone with my empty apartment and the smell of cologne and monarchy.
“Well, fuck me sideways,” I muttered.
I heard a masculine chuckle descending in the elevator.
“THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR letting me come, Isla.”
“I didn’t let you come,” I reminded him. “You turned up at my apartment and wouldn’t leave despite me threatening to give you a wedgie with your Captain America underwear, and then deciding to kill you with it when you still didn’t leave.”
He grinned. “Well, I’m here. So, thanks.”
I rolled my eyes in response and focused on the house in suburban New York.
I despised places like this. A big collection of the ‘American Dream’—a thin veil for unhappy wives who chewed Xanax like Skittles, husbands who banged their secretaries in the city and kids who were glued to those stupid iPads and probably would grow up with drug habits and taint the world with their presence.
But the priest I’d been tailing lived out there, so there I was.
“I’ve got to give it to the sicko. He’s picked a prime hunting ground,” I observed as two small humans wandered down the street pointing their phones at a bush, mumbling something about a Pokémon. Whatever that was.
“Humanity is so fucked if that’s the future of tomorrow,” I muttered.
My focus flickered to the door of the house we were parked outside of. A small boy and his plump mother emerged. The mother clutched the old priest’s hand, a grin on her splotchy face. I could smell the belly full of chocolate almonds she most likely ate to escape her fucking horrific life, which she wasn’t doing the best at if her small pale child’s rapid heartbeat was anything to go by.
I toyed with the idea of having her for dessert for being such an oblivious shrew but quickly tossed it. I didn’t do moral gray areas. Let the man upstairs figure that out when she died during complications from a gastric bypass surgery.
“That’s him,” Scott whispered.
“You don’t have to whisper, idiot. They’re not vampires, so they can’t hear us,” I said.
“Right.” He nodded, then thrust a flask at me. “Entrée?”
I gave him a sideways glance before grabbing the flask. After taking a swig, I screwed up my nose and thrust it back at him.
“What the fuck was that?” I hissed. “Is that even blood?”
He frowned at me. “Yes,” he protested. “I guess it’s an acquired taste.”
“Acquired taste?” I repeated.
“I’ve got a deal with a human at hospice. A buddy of mine, actually. He lets me drain the patients in the last stages. It benefits us both, taking them out of their misery and keeping me kicking.”
I stared at him, listening to the menial conversation of my mark and the idiot mother distractedly.
He shrugged, his face reddening slightly under my gaze. Since he was a half breed he still had blood flow and the ability to do things like blush. On chicks it was probably endearing but Scott looked like an idiot, albeit a loveable one.
Wait, did I just say loveable?
“It’s how we lost my dad,” he explained. “Cancer.” His voice shook just the tiniest bit. “Though it was fifty years ago. Who knows if they could have given him more years with today’s technology.” His eyes were faraway. “But the time he had left was excruciating. He begged for death in the end. Mom couldn’t do it so….”
My eyes bugged out. “You drained your own dad?” I surmised.
He nodded.
“Well, shit, Scotty. That is ruthless. You’d fit in with our unholy ruler any day.”
Now why did I mention that unholy ruler? Couldn’t be that he and his emerald eyes were on my mind? More precisely those emerald eyes battling with ice-blue ones. Though it wasn’t the eyes that were battling but the sinewy, muscled, oiled-up and naked bodies.
“It was what he wanted. He’d always known he wouldn’t outlive us both. He and mom had a deal, but she couldn’t do it… in the end,” he explained, eyes sheepish, oblivious to the fact that I was imagining a pornographic death match between a vampire and a slayer while he explained how he’d drained his cancerous father dry.
Unsure of what to do in the face of such emotion, I patted his head. “There, there. I think it was totally honorable. Draining your father to save your mother having to do it. Majorly fucked-up, but honorable. Honor is a rare thing in our race.” I tilted my head, regarding him. “You only feed on dying humans?”
He nodded.
“Because of your father?”
Another nod. “I hadn’t met another vampire like me. So when I heard how you cared about humans too—”
“Nope. I do not care about humans. They are stupid, lazy, clumsy and have the tendency to die, like your dear old dad.” I was being needlessly callous, but I was a vampire for fuck’s sake. I eyed the priest who was closing his door. “So how about I show you how much I care about this particular human while you stay in the car and try not to fuck anything up.”
On that note, I darted out of the car and schooled myself to walk a mortal pace past the chubby mom and the kid who would most likely be fucked-up for life. I barely resisted the urge to throat punch the oblivious twit. I only restrained because such a move would crush her windpipe, which may help her waistline but wouldn’t help the kid’s psychological scars, of which he already had many.
My heels clicked along the walk and I rappe
d my blood-red nails on the door that the father had just closed.
It took him a suspiciously long time to answer. I didn’t even want to think about what he was doing.
The second he opened the door, I shoved him back and slammed it behind us. I technically didn’t need to wait for the door to be opened, but I had manners.
“Whargt—” He let out garbled protests as I circled my nails around his neck and held him against his wall. His eyes were widened in terror and my hand covered his little white collar.
“Forgive you, Father, for you have sinned,” I whispered.
His hands scratched at my own as he gasped for air.
“I’m sure you’ve been operating under some warped logic that by wearing that suit and preaching the good book you get a free pass to the pearly gates despite your sickening sexual preferences,” I hissed. “I’m here to tell you that’s not the case. I’ll be sending you to meet the guy downstairs, who has some truly delightful rewards for those who steal things like childhood innocence.”
I released my grip a fraction so he could gulp in his last breath of air, then stepped forward. “Say hey to him from me, you know, between the screams,” I murmured, my lips at his neck.
My fangs pulsed as they elongated ever so slightly in preparation to feed. I sank them into his wrinkled flesh and marveled at his grunts of pain and feeble struggles.
The blood flowed warmly into my mouth and I drank deeply and greedily. It had been a few days since Stan and I hadn’t even finished him, so I was due for a binge.
Despite what movies or books showed a vampire to be like, it was not an act of pleasure for those being bitten. The ones doing the biting? Heck yeah. Imagine the nirvana of eating your favorite chocolate cake after a bad bout of PMS and you’ve got it.
But for the almost not-so-dearly departed priest I was attached to? Not so much. It pissed me right off that those idiotic humans at the many blood bars around the world actually volunteered to do it, with Twilight in their minds. I was sure they must have been missing a brain cell if they thought someone tearing into their neck and sucking their blood would be the same as getting an orgasm from Edward Cullen.
The priest’s vein ran dry far too quickly and I dropped the shriveled corpse at my feet with a scowl. I should have made it last, did it over a matter of days, weeks even, to give him a punishment he was worthy of. But I must have underestimated how hungry I was.
“Oh well,” I muttered.
I wiped my face and straightened my black silk shirt.
I didn’t even bother looking around his small house of lies and no doubt terror before leaving. Instead I whipped out my phone, firing off a text while I walked back to my car. I didn’t have to call the Sector for this one; my very own pet detective would have it covered.
Me: Priest just took his last confession. Hit me up with the next sucker. Get it? Sucker?
Sometimes I did wonder about my maturity levels. Well, for a hot minute, anyway; then I figured it was my afterlife and I was the one who had to find a way to make it through. If juvenile jokes and sarcasm got me through, who was I to try and be something as utterly dull as mature? I put my phone back in my bag, not expecting an immediate response, or any kind of response. Lewis didn’t seem to like my blood humor.
“It’s done already?” Scott exclaimed as soon as I sat my booty in the car.
I started it and pulled off the street. “I don’t like to play with my food,” I informed him. “Plus, the finale of America’s Next Top Model is on tonight and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Can I come in next time?”
“No.”
“Please? I can help.”
I gave him a look. “Tell me how the infant half breed would help me do something I’ve been doing for half a millennium? Having you even in the car with your hospice blood is more of a hindrance than a help.”
As soon as I said the words, the dumb little smile snapped off his face and his eyes went all sad and doey.
And it bothered me. Usually I saw such expressions as a victory, but not that time. I felt… bad? The feeling was foreign and I didn’t know what to do with it. I rolled my shoulders, trying to rid myself of the uncomfortable prickle of guilt, if I weren’t mistaken. Is this what people have to deal with when they worry about other people’s feelings? Jesus, no wonder humans drop like flies. Compassion and empathy were the most fatal of emotions. And feeble.
“Fuck,” I muttered, sucking in a breath. “You’re good with computers, right?”
Scott’s sullen head snapped up, his eyes alight once more. “Yes, the best in the Sector. That’s why I’ve been promoted to senior call analyst despite my… lineage. Some of the other full blood—”
I held my hand up. “I don’t need your autobiography. A simple yes would have sufficed.” I stared at the road that was hurtling past. I had good reactions, couldn’t die and was impatient, so of course I drove fast. “Well then, you can use those computer skills to navigate the Interweb, or whatever it’s called, and find me some new marks. Lewis is too slow for my taste.”
Scott beamed, and fuck me if that didn’t give me some kind of warm and fuzzy. I worried that I was getting soft. Maybe I’d have to go over to the werewolf side of town and kill some puppies to find my edge again.
Scott’s brows furrowed. “The Interweb?” he repeated, tone teasing.
I scowled at him. “I don’t need to know the ins and outs of such a horrific technology. I know how to order shoes, and that’s enough for me.” Though I could use all of the new technology, I didn’t like it. More so, I didn’t like that it turned humans into even more mindless zombies than they already were. Previously, one could hold a conversation with another about fine arts and literature for almost ten minutes without wanting to rip their throat out. Now? Their cellular device was attached to their hand and they viewed the world through a screen, a frame. Everything was a distortion on reality. I doubted they’d even rip their eyes from the screen until half of their blood was slipping down a vampire’s throat. Or until a demon had sucked out what little soul the device in their hand had left.
“No more words from you,” I commanded, “or I promise I will feed you to a slayer.”
Scott zipped his mouth shut, though he was still grinning. I could taste his amusement the entire road home, despite the silence in the car.
Which was actually rather dangerous, considering at the mere mention of a slayer I was consumed by thoughts of a particular one with a great beard and murder in his eyes.
I was walking out of my office downtown when the hair on the back of my neck prickled. An ancient instinct had my system tight, ready for attack, for death. Not mine, of course.
The steady thump of his heartbeat reverberated through my body. Never mind the handful of other humans scurrying through the lobby of my building; his drowned them all out. It was troubling, that little fact. It wasn’t a slayer thing. I’d known, and killed, my fair share, and their heartbeats had been nothing but background noise.
Until they were nothing at all.
I stopped in the middle of the lobby, locking eyes with him. He was leaning against the wall of the entrance, sinfully good-looking and out of place. This was just one of the many businesses I owned; I was immortal and smart, so I’d amassed a lot of wealth. We were technically meant to keep a low profile, but I couldn’t exactly do that, considering I was one of the only female billionaire CEOs in the security industry.
I’d made the Forbes list the previous year. And the year before that.
The Sector had not been happy about that.
It was brilliant.
This particular company employed Ivy League assholes who wore ten-thousand-dollar suits and had most likely date-raped girls at frat parties in their heyday. He didn’t look anything like them.
Which was a good thing.
His jeans were so faded he’d probably worn them for years, and they most likely weren’t designer. Ditto with the leather jacket; it wasn’t worn
for fashion, but rather for purpose, as blood didn’t stain leather as much. Yet it molded to his biceps, clinging to them and his muscled body for dear life like it was alive. I would too, if he wouldn’t likely kill me for doing so.
His wild hair and beard made him look like a lost bounty hunter or an alpha werewolf, without the shapeshifting quality. Or the general air of arrogance. He had an aura about him that wasn’t human, but there was only werewolf, vampire, demon or human, and I was certain he wasn’t the first three. Process of elimination had him human, just a strange one.
He pushed off the wall after giving me the same once-over I’d given him, though his eyes didn’t betray any appreciation for my skintight white dress that was tailored to perfection. My red hair tumbled down my back in long soft waves, and my signature red lipstick slathered my lips.
That kind of pissed me off. Yeah, so I was a monster to be killed in his eyes, but surely he could appreciate this monster’s killer body before he tried to put holes in it?
I folded my arms once I’d come to a stop in front of him, close enough for his scent to wrap around me. For his emotions to roll into me and nearly choke me with their complexity, though anger was an overriding quality. “A little public to try and stab me with that trusty knife of yours, isn’t it?” I asked, quirking my brow and glancing around the people who gave me a wide berth. I wasn’t exactly the boss who took her employees out for drinks or cared when their grandmothers were sick. They were terrified of me. It was brilliant.
Though, they probably wouldn’t care if he stabbed me right there. They might even cheer. Or join in.
“I heard you were all about the secrecy, or are you a rebel without a cause? You’ve already got the leather jacket,” I continued.
His eyes danced with hatred. “You killed him,” he growled in a low voice.
“Who? I’ve done a lot of killing over the past week, so you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”