by Lexi C. Foss
“Too bad your project ends here,” Sam said, twirling her stick ready to fight.
“You are one of the thirteen, aren’t you?” Chelsea asked. “I found my brother’s little stash of research on you. He can be rather creepy at times. I had planned to dispose of him after the party, especially when I saw that mark on his chest. My family would be appalled. My mother would go into sleep early if she knew her son was one of the bastards who thought they were better than us.
I ripped open my shirt and showed her the mark on my chest. “He is my brother, and I stand with him.”
She scoffed. “Kill all three. Try not to disturb my sleeping pets.” She turned and walked up the steps as the three men walked toward us.
“We’ve got these guys. Get her,” I told Samarie.
“So pushy. Geez,” she said with a grin as she ran straight for the three brutes. One swung a beefy fist at her which she dodged while using her stick to trip up one of the others. The third reached for her, and she rolled away from him. When he rose up to chase her, I fired my weapon. The report of the gun echoed in the room, and I winced at the awful pain it caused in my ears. However, the brute immediately dusted.
Sam stood, nodded at us, then ran up the stairs after Beckett’s sister.
“Which one do you want?” I asked Beckett.
“So nice of you to let me choose. I want the pretty one.”
“They are both ugly,” I said with a scowl. I looked over to him as his own claws grew out of his hands. “Hey, I’ve got some of those.”
“Really? We should compare them sometime and see who’s are bigger.”
“Mine are definitely bigger,” I replied.
The two men rushed us, while hunching over to keep me from shooting them in the heart. That was the problem with the gun, once they knew what it could do, I’d have to get them into a position to kill them.
Beckett stepped forward meeting the one that was on his side of the room. He dodged a punch and buried his claws in his neck. The brute yowled in pain as Beck kicked his knee from the side. I heard the crunch and the big guy went down on all fours. I still didn’t have a shot.
The second one started taking swings at me, but I avoided them the best I could. He hadn’t paid attention to his mistress as he slammed his hand into one of the monitors. It beeped loudly, then dimmed to a light squawk. Unfortunately for him, he’d gotten stuck in the mangled machine. I had a perfect back shot and took it. He dusted immediately.
I turned back to find Beckett losing his fight. The brute had him by the throat and was squeezing hard enough to pop his head off. Beck kicked him as they both wrestled on the floor. The big guy didn’t let go no matter how many wounds Beckett put in him with his claws. I couldn’t shoot, knowing that the bullet might go straight through the man and hit Beckett.
A loud crash came from upstairs and I knew Samarie was fighting Chelsea.
“Go to her,” Beckett choked out.
“You idiot,” I scolded him. I dropped the gun, grew my own claws, and before the guy could respond, I shoved my hand into his back until I felt his heart. I jerked out of his body and he dusted all over Beck who had turned his head and closed his eyes. “Wimp.”
He looked up at me holding the bloody heart. “That’s gross. I’ve decided I don’t want your hands anywhere near me.”
“Liar,” I said, dropping the heart to the ground.
“You got me,” he smirked.
Another crash above us caught our attention and we rushed up the stairs to find Chelsea standing in front of a broken window. She ignored us as she climbed through holding a stick much like Samarie’s.
“Why does she have a stick?” I asked.
“She’s a trained martial artist. The bo staff is her preferred weapon,” Beckett said.
We ran out the front door of the house to find Samarie scratched up, but looking healthy and fierce as she squared up with Chelsea. I dug the pistol out of my coat, but Beck put his hand over it.
“This is her fight. Let her have it,” he said.
“But,” I protested.
“Here’s the thing. I’ve watched you both for a long time. You don’t give her the credit she deserves. She’s amazing in her own right. She’s fierce and brutal. She will win. I believe that she will, and you should believe it, too,” Beck said.
Had that been my problem all along? I adored Samarie. I knew that she was fierce, but I’d never really let her do it herself. Even with this case, I pushed to do it my way, and she’d give into me without fighting back.
“Why does she give into me?” I mumbled as the women began to fight with each other in their gowns under the moon.
“Now who is the idiot? It’s because she loves you,” Beck said.
I clutched my chest as if it could be in pain, but it was the shock of his words. Perhaps the one thing I’d always wanted had been there, and I had ignored it because I wanted it to be on my own terms. The truth smacked me in the face. Despite her past involvement with this Vega dude, she still loved me. She just needed to come to terms with it. I grabbed Beck’s hand and squeezed it.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“You can thank me later,” he smirked. I huffed out a laugh and the two of us watched the slayer work.
10
The Mask
SAMARIE
Chelsea stood before me with her bo staff, and I watched her size me up. Her movements were familiar, as if the same person had taught us. I knew that wasn’t possible because the bulk of my Tahtib training in Egypt.
She made the first move, and we parried across the lawn. Thankfully, we had drawn no attention outside of Jasper and Beckett, who seemed content to allow me to do my job, which I appreciated. I was taking this bitch down, and I didn’t need their help.
Chelsea didn’t speak as she made her strikes, defenses, and counterstrikes. I needed to get her talking. Boasting was a weakness that was easily triggered and exploitable.
“You fight well. You must have had an outstanding teacher,” I said.
“I did. She is the best in London,” she replied.
“In London? Who teaches stick fighting in London?” I asked, knowing that there weren’t many like me in the city. There were a few other dojos around, but I didn’t know anyone that specifically focused on stick fighting.
“Well, wearing a fat suit wasn’t my idea of fun, but I’d had to reinvent myself several times to get into your classes,” she said.
“What?” Her claim staggered me, and I lost concentration. It gave her an open moment to strike. She slammed her stick into the side of my thigh, barely missing my knee, but knocking me to the ground. Through my confusion, I winced in pain and scrabbled to my feet.
“Yes, let’s see. I’ve been Melody Thompson, who you dismissed from your class for being too aggressive. I was Jessica Blake who missed a few personal instruction sessions because, you see, I had an enormous project I was working on, yet you had no mercy and wrote me off. Then, I became Tiffany Masterson, who was a prize pupil for over a year, but you lost interest in me when my skills had reached the equal of yours. You saw that I was becoming as good as you.”
My mind reeled with her revelations, and she continued to strike, pushing me back as my mind lost all concentration on the fight. My reflexes still defended me, but I was trying to piece it all together. Each of the women she named had been in my classes. They all looked different.
“That’s not possible,” I said.
“It is when I have a thousand faces to choose from beneath my home,” she said.
That was enough to snap me back into reality. I struck back at her hard and fast, catching her stick with mine and twirling it back down to the ground the burying my knee into her chest. She staggered away coughing, but I knew it wouldn’t take long until her vampire body would repair any damage I’d caused. I only hoped to stake her and stake her fast.
“This last time, I got one of those fat suits, because why not?! It was so funny to join your class
as Gretchen Taylor. The poor overweight girl. Just the charity case that you couldn’t resist. Oh, I had so many plans for you and Gretchen. It’s a shame that we couldn’t become B.F.F.s.”
She cackled like a witch and charged me. I fended off her attacks. Then, I remembered Tiffany Masterson and the real reason I’d ditched her. She always took her fights to the kill level. She never looked for a way to disable her opponent. She always wanted the death strike. Which was exactly what Chelsea was doing now.
Yes, she was good. But the best had taught her. Me. I knew all her tricks, but unfortunately for her, she didn’t know mine. After her last sequence of strikes, I began countering her with disabling blows, instead of the killing strikes that she knew so well. She didn’t know how to defend against them. She’d never considered it to be a threat, but I knew that if I hit her enough, it would slow her body.
The first strike took out her knee like I’d done to the brute in the basement. She winced in pain, but began her next group of deadly strikes, which I defended. I smiled, and she growled at me, showing her fangs.
“What’s so funny, Bitch?” she snarled.
“You’ll see,” I said. I took the next three strikes in sequence, one to her right foot, driving the stick through it. The second caught her in the chin, almost ripping her head from her body, but she shoved me away.
I knew I had to strike again before her body recovered. My last non-lethal blow was to her gut, forcing her to lurch forward, and I jammed my finger into her right eye, pulling the orb out as she backed away from me.
She shrieked in horror as she used her good eye to see me holding what was left of the other.
“That won’t kill me,” she screamed in a high-pitched, panicked squeal.
“Nope, but one thing I learned from Tiffany Masterson was that it didn’t matter how many killing blows you went for, if none of them worked, you’d done nothing to disable your opponent to win. They would always overcome you because you spent too much time focusing on the endgame and not the road to get there.” I dropped her eye into the grass. “It’s the end of the road, Chelsea. What else do you have for me?”
She lunged at me carelessly in anger, and I dropped to one knee. She practically rammed herself onto the stake at the end of my stick. Her broken body dusted around me and floated to the ground.
I took a moment to catch my breath before raising my eyes to see the two handsome men quietly clapping for me across the lawn.
“You bastards. Stop clapping,” I huffed in faux rage.
They approached me, and Jasper helped me to my feet. My body ached, and I couldn’t wait to give Bastet a good pet.
“I’ll call the Fraternity and start the investigation. We need to know who else was involved and if there are other blood farms,” Jasper said.
“Let me make the call. You get her home,” Beckett said.
“I think you should come with us. If your family knows that you aren’t with them on this...” Jasper said.
“Do you care?” Beckett asked with a knowing grin. I laughed at both of them.
“You know I do. Good grief,” Jasper snarled as he helped me walk away from Beckett, who picked up the pace right behind us.
“I think you are right. I should go with you. I mean, I’m happy to supply whatever healing measures they might need,” he said while dialing his phone.
“I need to call James and get a crew out here soon. I lost my clutch in the fight,” I said.
Beckett led us to where the cars were parked, and Jasper helped me into the passenger seat. He handed me his phone and showed me how to unlock it.
“There’s nothing on it that I need to hide from you,” he said.
“Boring,” Beckett teased as he climbed into the back of the car.
“Shut it,” Jasper huffed.
I called E.V.I.E. headquarters and made my report. Thankfully, it was Miranda who took it. When she asked about my vampire friend, I replied, “Well, it seems that I have two.”
“You go girl!” she exclaimed.
After a few days of rest and having two vampires wait on me hand and foot, I knew the time had come to have the discussion. Beckett had wandered off into the kitchen of Jasper’s house in Kensington, and the man himself sat across from me scrolling through emails on his tablet. The Fraternity of the Crucible had descended upon Richmond Manor and interrogated every member of the household. Jasper vouched for Beckett, and that seemed to be enough to keep them off his back.
E.V.I.E. sent in several crews to help the blood donors we’d found in the basement of Chelsea’s home. Some, unfortunately, could not be saved. After we’d taken out their caretakers, there was no one there to monitor the machines. I felt that maybe we should have stayed, but Miranda assured me that we needed to get out of there.
Most of Beckett’s family was in on the business and had been executed by the Fraternity. He’d taken the news hard, but he remained his same cheerful self despite it. I thought of his mask at the ball. The young happy face with the single tear. It defined him.
He continued to flirt with Jasper more than me, but still flirting was his outlet. Jasper and I allowed him to do it as much as he wanted, as long as it made him happy. However, we had avoided any discussion of where this relationship between us was or where it would go. Not to mention how Beckett fit into the picture.
I cleared my throat, and Jasper’s eyes shot up to meet mine.
“You need something?” he asked.
“Now what?” I asked.
He lowered the tablet, and his face went blank. “My desires and promises have not changed. I want what you want. You tell me what that is, and I’ll abide by it. If that means you want to go back to the way things were before, I’ll accept it. I’ll hate every moment, but I will do as you wish.”
I looked toward the kitchen where I could hear Beck banging around. “And what about him?”
“I like him, but again, it’s entirely up to you. Samarie, I know what Vega did to you. I know what you had to do to him. That won’t be us, but I can understand how it affects your judgment of me. Even if I think it’s a little unfair.” He said it with no malice. “You set the terms. I’ll abide by them.”
Beckett appeared with a plate of fruit and sat down next to me, offering it up to me. I took a piece of pineapple, and he grinned.
“So, what terms are we discussing?” he asked. Jasper chuckled and shook his head. I knew our conversation wasn’t private. He should have known, too. Beck leaned over to my ear. “I heard him say he liked me.”
“He said that,” I replied with a grin.
Beck leaned forward and sat the fruit on the table. He turned to me and took my hands in his. Jasper eyed him closely.
“Jasper is right. What happens next is up to you. We get many lifetimes to live, and I’m sure we’ve fucked up more than one of them.” Jasper nodded in agreement. “You decide what you want, Miss Bashir. We are your humble servants.” He leaned down and kissed the top of both of my hands.
I thought I’d feel confused or have the impression that I’d have to choose between them, but obviously, they didn’t care about that. They just wanted me to be happy.
“I won’t choose between you,” I said, watching their reactions. Beckett looked to Jasper, who grinned.
“You don’t have to choose,” he said.
“Yes!” Beckett said with a little squeal. I busted out laughing at him and covered my mouth as I felt the heat suddenly rise in the room.
Jasper got down on his knees and stripped off his shirt. He crawled over to me and sat back on his heels. Beckett giggled and ripped off his own shirt, taking his place next to Jasper. My body screamed with delight as both men waited for my command.
“I guess the details don’t matter as long as I get off,” I said with a shrug.
“Oh, you will come,” Beckett said, reaching out for my leg. I shifted it away from him, and he sat back with a pout.
“You will come so much that you will have to beg us to stop,
but we won’t,” Jasper said with a look to Beckett who nodded in agreement. The two men shared a moment of gazing at each other, then looked back to me.
I couldn’t stop the words that came out of my mouth, and they took the command seriously.
“Well, fuck me.”
From early in life Kimbra Swain was indoctrinated in the ways of geekdom. Raised on Star Wars, Tolkien, Superheroes, and Voltron, she found herself immersed in a world of imagination. She started writing in high school, and completed her English degree from the University of Alabama in 2003.
Her writing is influenced by a gamut of favorite authors including Jane Austen, J.R.R. Tolkien, L.M. Montgomery, Timothy Zahn, Kathy Reichs, Kevin Hearne, and Jim Butcher.
Born and raised in Alabama, Kimbra still lives there with her husband and 7 year-old daughter. When she isn't reading or writing, she plays PC games, makes jewelry, and plays with her two dogs, Carter and Kaiser.
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Violet Slays
By Lexi C. Foss
A Vampire Dynasty Prequel
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.