by Anne Malcom
“But I doubt you really want Father Darkness up in here, watching your every move,” I continued. “It’s like your boss following you around and making sure you can’t skimp money from the register, or kill patrons.” I shrugged. “Not my idea of fun, but I have problems with authority.”
He shook his head, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth as he laid his tatted arms back on the bar. Demon mood swings could rival a woman with PMS who’d just been dumped by her boyfriend.
“Yes, which is why I’m wondering why you’re doing the king’s dirty work,” he mused.
I failed to hide my shock but masked it quickly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just trying out a new hobby. What insanity took you to that conclusion? Or at least, who told you?” I planned on killing whoever had the big mouth. I’d bet it was Jeeves.
“No one told me. But I happen to know you, Isla,” he replied, eyes darkening. “Intimately. And I know that you never do anything with a specific purpose or plan. Insanity doesn’t do well with a schedule.”
I scowled at him. “I prefer spontaneity.”
He grinned. “Whatever you call it, it doesn’t line up with this little mission you happen to find yourself on not a week after your attendance at the king’s party and your little heroics at the Majestic.”
Silence followed his words as I considered how many other immortals would string such events together. I needed a number; it was always good to know how many people would be trying to kill you. Not necessary, but handy.
“No one else has the knowledge or the contacts to come to this particular conclusion,” Dante cut into my thoughts as if he were watching them unfold.
I jerked my head up. “And what makes you so sure?”
He gave me an even look. “Likely because you’re sitting here right now, not dismembered or being raped by the faction vying for war with every supernatural on the planet opposing them.
“Well, the night’s still young. But your faith in me is disappointing.”
He took a swig from my bottle. “Faith is for humans. But I do work on logic, and the logical thing for you to do here would be to get the fuck out of this war. And out of any dealings with the king. I’ve heard he’s a right ruthless bastard to anyone who slights him. Frankly, I’m quite surprised he hasn’t had you executed already for saying something… well, saying anything.”
“Well I don’t work on logic. I have fun. The two are never mutually exclusive,” I replied. “And I resent that comment. I know when to hold my tongue.”
He gave me a look.
“I said I know when. I didn’t say I actually used that knowledge.”
Dante shook his head. “I’m not going to talk you out of it, am I?”
“Nope. The best thing you can do is give me names, numbers, addresses.”
He sighed. “I can’t do that, Isla. But I’ll tell you that they were talking about a master, John.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well thanks for the great info. A guy named John. Awesome. He shouldn’t be hard to find at all.”
“You really want to go looking for the vampires who are looking to torture and kill you?” Dante asked.
I raised my brow. “Is that even a question?”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You need to watch your six, Isla. This is growing, and fast. And you’re at the top of the hit list. Right below the king.”
I twirled my finger along my glass. “Interesting. I’m flattered that the future leaders of the not-so-free world consider little old me such a pressing matter after world domination and dismembering a millennia-old royal family,” I mused.
“Of course you wouldn’t take this seriously,” Dante grumbled.
I glanced up, snatching my clutch and standing. “Oh, I don’t take life too serious. I’d never get out undead otherwise. Thanks for the info, Dante. I’ll try not to mention your name to the rebels when I have a chat with them. Can’t make any promises, though, since I’m ‘insane’ and all that jazz.”
I blew the moody werewolf a kiss before strutting out the door.
“IS THIS TIFFANY?” I HELD up the silver lamp, inspecting it in the light.
“Please, I’ll do anything,” he cried. “I’ve got money. You want money?”
I rolled my eyes, putting the lamp down after deducing it wouldn’t fit in my purse. “Look at my shoes. You think I need money from you?” I shook my head, wandering around the ostentatiously decorated living room. Then to the man crumbled on the ground in front of me, unable to move on account of his broken kneecaps.
“It’s literally like Burberry threw up on you,” I muttered. “No wonder you had to pay for it.” I crouched down. “You think you’ve got a lot of power, don’t you, Dick?”
His name was Richard. Of course it was.
“No,” he spluttered.
“Don’t lie to me, Dick,” I said. “The only thing I hate more than murderers is liars. And you’re both. Yahtzee!” I threw my hands up. “It’s shaping up to be a great Saturday night.”
“Wha-what?” he stuttered.
“The girls, Dick. Six of them, if I’m not mistaken. You picked them up in your hundred-thousand-dollar car, no doubt giving them Pretty Woman vibes. That is until you drove them to an empty lot, stabbed them, mutilated their corpses and then afterwards defiled them.” I screwed my nose up. “Dude, I drink blood to survive and even I think that’s deranged.” I tilted my head up in thought. “You’d get along so well with my brothers. You know, if you weren’t a human with less than two seconds to live.”
His groans muffled when I attached myself to his neck, snapping the bone so I didn’t have to listen to his cries. I liked to eat in silence.
After I was done with my meal, I closed the door on his brownstone, hoping whoever got it in his will was worthy of it.
“Yo, Scott. I’ve got something for you,” I said, wandering through the balmy New York night. Pedestrians were lacking in the area, as mostly stuffy Wall Street types were either sleeping with their trophy wives or out at some charity gala. Or, like Dick, rotting in their apartments.
“You went without me?” he whined, tapping at the keyboard. “It was the Manhattan Slasher, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t call him that,” I snapped. “It’s not my fault you have to work for a living. I don’t work around people, people work around me. If you wanted to come, you should have gotten the night off.”
“I would have if you’d told me.”
“Well, if you were that committed to going, you would have learned how to read minds,” I retorted, pausing as something caught my ears.
“I can do that?” he asked, excited.
“Good-bye, Scott,” I said, not wanting to tell him that he could, if he paid a witch enough.
Doubtful that he’d have enough for even the deposit for such a spell, or the mental strength. Plus, they backfired more than they worked, leaving the idiot who paid a couple hundred k to hear if their spouse was sucking some other human instead of the one you shared drooling with their fangs falling out.
On second thought, maybe I’d give him the money for the spell.
My step froze as my instincts perked up.
I stood, listening at the sounds coming from the side of a building, behind a dumpster.
Don’t do it, Isla. Go home, ring Dante and rethink the scorched-earth policy. You’ve done enough for the pathetic human race tonight.
My feet went in the direction of the noise. Of course I didn’t listen to the logical side of my brain; where was the fun in that?
“Seriously, Earnshaw? A miniature human? That’s just embarrassing,” I stated, staring at the back of a very well-tailored suit.
The vampire in question turned, revealing a human child of indeterminate age. It couldn’t have been that old, considering its shoes were lighting up and was wearing a pink backpack.
“Stay out of this, Isla. I’m eating,” he snarled.
I inspected my nails. “I can’t. Not in my nature.�
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He stepped forward, away from the paling creature with the stupid shoes. “Your nature?” he spat. “Your nature would be snacking on this.” He gestured back to the frozen rabbit. “Children always have the best blood.” He grinned so his fangs glistened in the moonlight.
“What can I say? I like mine matured.” I shrugged. “Also, your crazy is showing. I’d advise you to tuck that back in and go on your not-so-merry way. You don’t want that suit getting ripped. Custom, isn’t it?”
He stepped forward again, slowly, most likely because he was underestimating me.
“Bitch, I’ll rip that whore’s hair out of your scalp,” he snarled.
The second he’d uttered the threat, I moved—not slowly like him, but so my heel found itself embedded into the fleshy part of his cheek, muffling his insults and filtering a wet noise into the night.
“You never insult my hair if you want live to see another moonrise,” I said casually.
He tried to struggle off the concrete but I was stronger than him. Laughably so.
“I’m really not in the mood to get my hands dirty tonight,” I continued. “So I won’t kill you. As long as you get out of here, like now. I’m sure you know that it would be embarrassingly easy for me to kill you, which I’m tempted to do just for you getting blood all over my favorite Jimmy Choos.”
There was a squidgy sound as I lifted my foot from his cheek. He darted up the moment I released the pressure, the wound in his face already healing.
His bloodstained face was etched in hatred. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, race traitor,” he hissed.
“Yup, uh-huh. Someone’s already passed that on. Tell me something I don’t know. Or better yet, run off into the night.” I shooed him with my hands.
For a second, I thought the idiot was actually going to make me kill him, but then the air emptied as he scampered off into the darkness.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I muttered.
I turned on my heel, planning to stop by the little wine bar down the street from my apartment. I was in the mood for a full-bodied red.
Then I’d pick up the bartender of that wine bar and have a nightcap. He and I had a delightful agreement; the weirdo actually liked getting bitten.
A tug on my sleeve stopped me. I glanced down to see the little human had somehow unstuck itself from its ‘rabbit in the headlights’ position. And instead of running, the little twit was looking up at me, freckled face stretched into a grin.
It was missing a front tooth.
Ick.
“That was awesome,” it breathed. “You totally owned that vamp.”
I scowled at it, yanking my sleeve from its grasp and inspecting it for stains. Children always had sticky hands.
“Of course I did,” I said in distaste. “Now run along.” I gestured down the alley much like I had for Earnshaw.
It didn’t move.
I tilted my head. “You’re not crying,” I observed. “And you haven’t lost control of your bodily functions.” Most humans reeked of urine after a near-death experience, at the mercy of such useless emotions as fear.
It shook its red ringlets. “Nope. My brother said crying will get you two things, dead and drained.”
“Your brother sounds smart. How about you go and annoy him, let him know you’ve made him proud with your lack of tears and the fact that despite everything, you still have blood pumping through your system.” I paused. “Though he doesn’t seem to be a very good one if you’re out here about to be someone’s next meal. Don’t you have owners or something?”
I peered down the alley to see if its parents hadn’t already been drained, then back to see if it had a collar around its neck or anything. Nothing, not even a telltale wound. Earnshaw hadn’t even had a taste. He most likely was waiting for glutamate to pulse around the human’s circulatory system. Fear changed the way the blood tasted, made it slightly tangier, enriched the flavor of it. Some vampires liked to feed on that fear, while some preferred the ecstasy of orgasm—hence why so many humans were drained in the midst of sex. It wasn’t just about the blood. Some humans liked cheeseburgers at those dirty fast food chains with the bad fluorescent lighting and others liked fine dining with snooty waiters and overpriced wine. Same thing with vampires.
“My parents are dead,” it, a girl, said, no nonsense.
I folded my arms. “Yes, well they do tend to do that.”
“My brother, he takes care of me now,” she continued.
“Well he’s not doing a very good job,” I observed.
She gave me a strange look. “I snuck out. He doesn’t know I’m gone, and he would kill me if he knew I’d almost gotten eaten by a vamp.”
I nodded, knowing all too well about homicidal brothers. “I’d suggest killing him first. You know, hit him before he can hit you…. Wait, vamp?” I only caught on midsentence because I was half listening and half figuring out if I could knock her out and leave her outside a firehouse. But that was three blocks out of my way. Also, I didn’t quite know how breakable small humans were, so I’d probably inadvertently kill her instead of knocking her out, rendering this whole fucking scene redundant.
She nodded vigorously again. “Obviously he was a vamp, on account of the teeth.” Her voice muffled as she opened her mouth, pointing to her non-pointed incisors.
I screwed my nose up in distaste.
Her gaze on my red lips, she continued. “I’m pretty sure you’re a vamp too, although I don’t have the sense, you know, not yet. They said you grow into it or something, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you are. Even though you haven’t bitten me yet. Thanks for that by the way.”
I folded my arms. “I wouldn’t thank me yet, kid. The night’s still young, and I haven’t had dessert.”
I was going for threatening, but the little cretin smiled at me.
Smiled! In the face of the most fearsome creature known to man.
And demon.
“Wait…. Oh fuck,” I cursed.
“You’re not meant to swear,” she chided.
“Yeah well, you’re not meant to be alive. Stupidity normally means death,” I snapped. “By the sense, you mean you’re a—”
“Praestes,” she finished for me, then squinted. “Well, I’m not technically… yet. I’m in training. But that’s because I’m a girl and my brother doesn’t think a girl can fight vampires at ten years old, even though he did.”
“It’s a shame gender equality hasn’t come to the slayer community either,” I said. “Vampires seem to have the same warped ideas, despite us women being the fairer and far more dangerous sex. Humans seem the most progressive out of us all which is just downright embarrassing, considering how stupid the entire race is.”
“Yeah.” She nodded vigorously. I started to wonder if she’d snap her little neck from all that motion.
One could only hope.
“That’s why I’m out here,” she said, yanking her backpack off her back and rifling through it.
I considered leaving while her attention was diverted, but I was intrigued to see where this was going.
The baby slayer had my interest.
“I’m here to show him I’m just as strong as he is,” she exclaimed, whipping out a silver blade.
“Careful,” I snapped as she waved it too close to my blouse. “I’ve managed not to get a stain on this all night.”
She paled. “Sorry.”
My eyes narrowed on the blade and the subtle pulse coming from it.
“Fuck,” I muttered. That blade was all too familiar. I really hoped her brother was not who I thought he would be. I mean, those blades were rare, but there was a chance another slayer with an idiot for a sister owned one too.
Then I felt it, the prickle at the back of my neck. A slayer was there. A real one. One who smelled of man and sex. And whose heartbeat echoed through the alley.
“Get the fuck away from my sister,” he growled.
The little human’s eyes bugged out a
nd she moved quick for a little thing, standing between me and her knife-wielding, hot-as-fuck brother—but the latter was neither here nor there. I was so entranced by… whatever he was doing to me that I let the little gnome get the better of me.
“Thorne, please don’t kill her. She saved me,” she begged.
I blinked. “Thorne?” I repeated. “Your name is Thorne?”
The slayer—who I may or may not have had bath-time fantasies about the night before—glared at me, then his sister.
“Lucille, get away from the vampire,” he ordered tightly. Emotions rolled off him in waves, raw and unbridled. There was the familiar taste of his fury, but something entirely new, with a taste like an overripe peach.
Fear. For his twit of a sister, presumably.
That’s who Lewis was warning me about? He’s not illiterate, just purposefully vague. He’s so not getting a fruit basket this Fourth of July weekend.
“No.” Lucille put her hands on her hips, nearly stabbing herself in the stomach in the process.
“Shouldn’t you, like, keep the small, idiotic human away from the pointy objects?” I nodded to the knife.
Cue another hauntingly erotic death glare. “Shut the fuck up,” he snarled. His eyes moved from me. “Did she hurt you?” The transition of his voice was enough to give a girl whiplash.
He went from Hannibal Lector to friggin’ Santa Claus in zero-point-five seconds.
“I’m fine. Thanks to her.” She nodded her curls at me. “She saved me from a vampire.”
His eyes bugged out. “She saved you? She was about to drain you,” he growled.
I rolled my eyes. “She has a name, and a much higher intellect than both you and your forefathers combined,” I cut in. “And I would like to add at this juncture that I don’t drain miniature humans. Not enough blood, you see,” I lied through my fangs.
“Do you expect me to believe that?” he spat.
I shook my head. “Of course I don’t, much like I don’t expect you to believe the world is round. Stupidity is, unfortunately, incurable.” I glanced at a strawberry blonde head. “And genetic, obviously. I’d tell little sis to lay off the slayer practice until she can actually… slay. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather be… well, anywhere but here, actually.” I wiggled my fingers. “Toodles.”