Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…. Well it should have stopped at Hell hath no fury like a woman. Scorned was bullshit. Women are soft and gentle and kind… And every day they are victims because of it. They are the prey to the sick and twisted. A wet dream of a filthy man without conscience or morals.
Hell hath no fury like a woman.
End of saying.
She had a flash of the man’s uniform. His name was Carl, mid thirties in the beginnings of early male pattern baldness. He was over-weight and suffered a low self esteem.
In the corner of the room was a large industrial steel desk with over a layer of dust on the top. The chair was missing a wheel but Bri took a seat in it anyway. She waited for her touch to retrieve the 411 on Carl and looked over at Sadie who was still standing in the doorway.
“Sadie.” Her voice was calm and reassuring. When she looked at Bri and made no move to come into the room Bri understood. She hated the thought of ever being forced back into the tower of the castle she was held in. Seven hundred years and she still knew what the room looked like, figured there was no need to rehash it herself, no way would she ask one of her souls to.
“You don’t need to stay here. You can move on, find peace. I promise you that I will make sure he receives the…fairest form of justice.”
The girl, god bless her, was rock steady and not moving an inch. Made Bri smile and the sensation of pride bloomed in her chest Sadie and Briar were quite similar.
As the memories of Carl Barnes came through, Bri braced herself for the images of eleven, no wait, twelve girls and the suffering they endured. Her stomach flipped and she gasped for air that was stagnant with anguish and pain. It had been a long time since Bri had dealt with a man so vile. He was a traveler and damn his luck for stopping in Seattle, where the angry soul of one Sadie Wilson sought out Bri. Her territory meant his sudden death.
Carl liked young girls.
A lot.
And like she had summoned him herself, in walked Carl Barnes and it was time he faced his destiny.
Chapter Two
Fangs headed south on the I90 heading for the Sire’s council meeting. Defined it meant he was heading to sit in a room with all the Vampire Sire’s that took up residence in the greater Northwest territory, including Canada.
There was nothing more time consuming than a Sires council, but for the sake of his Vampires he had no choice but to go. This night was bound to be full of eventful hours crammed into one night. Sometimes being a Vampire was a pain in the ass.
There was never enough darkness in the day, twenty four hours as a whole and only ten of those were spent in darkness, the other fourteen leaving him in an empty crypt or his condo depending on his sunrise location. Hours that he spent thinking. A few more weeks and e coming of fall, Fangs would gain a little more darkness.
As almost seven hundred years had passed since the day of his human birth. He had never been one for meetings and solving communal problems. He was a fighter by breed and trade and preferred the rash approach apposed to a relaxed version of politics. He hated politics. Vampires were the cream of the crop, top of the food chain. They were the breed that kept other breeds in line. Vampires were sought out by human and demon alike, always first in line when shifters or wares had outside problems that needed handled.
He hated the word mercenary but in reality that is what a Vampire succeeds at. He missed the days when there was honor in battle. He almost chuckled to himself. Honor was something he spent his human years avoiding. He had been a Pirate, the first mate to Captain James Masters, and they had pillaged and drank and killed.
Funny how he now missed the one thing he had always despised.
Perhaps his need for pride in a mans work, for honor at how the last chip fell came from years of watching it firsthand. Perhaps it came from watching one woman, a human with an extremely rare ability at seeing ghosts. Briar had killed with the finesse of a two year old sure, but never missed her mark and never shed a tear. He had watched her take out men three times her size and had them begging for mercy upon her five hundred dollar heels.
Maybe it was Briar who changed him, talk about pride before a fall. The night before he met Miss Briar Hubert he had taken with him to bed three lovely ladies who he had about as much interest in as he did a paper bag. He did it because he could, and the daylight had a lot of empty hours to fill. He walked away from the three women in the same simple manner he did everything: Time spent wasted is time not spent. He had no desire to see the women ever again and so when he left he was nothing more than mist, pulling the shadow of night around him like a cloak and disappe Bring.
Meeting Briar however had twisted something inside of him. She was fascinating at first and he assumed that once that excitement peaked he would move on. Thing about Bri though, Bri just kept on surprising him. After two years together and seven months separated at their failed attempt at normal he wondered if maybe she caught on to his feelings.
He laughed as he took the turn off that lead him into Seattle and a night club that welcomed a different sort of clientele. Owned by a Contaca Soul, he allowed the night creatures in full form. Feelings for Bri was an understatement, he loved her and she ran off in true Fangs form. He was between her legs making her scream, inside of her when she looked at him and... vanished. He didn’t chase her because he wasn’t about to be a complete pussy and cry over his broken heart. Figured it was divine justice, how many hearts had he broken in all his years, damn near one a week he was willing to wager.
He had never been in love before, she had twisted something inside of him and he had welcomed it because the intensity she brought out in him had him curious at what was next. He never told her how he felt, and she never offered so much as a 'Fangs I can’t wait to see you'. No they were friends who enjoyed fucking one another and he somehow crossed that invisible line that lead him to fall in love with her.
He wouldn’t deny that he wasn’t a little relieved she ran. He was off track and living in an Briar world. His Vampires never suffered, never knew he was involved with a human, but he still had lost the hard edge that made him the highest paid Sire to date. She had allowed him in her circle however; her friends knew him well and knew what he was. Briar liked to play with the things that went bump in the night; her friends consisted of a turned wolf, an extremely dangerous breed of Ware, a succubus demon and a Contaca Soul.
Didn’t mean he was a pussy though. He wasn’t about to go out looking for her, crying her name out in the night. She wanted to go, well he let her go. Didn’t mean he wasn’t hell bent on getting this meeting over with so he could get to Winters party. He had a few choice words intended for her ears and it didn’t include I love you. No this was about payback. She wanted to leave, well, he never locked the door she was free to walk out of. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t make her regret it though.
Human or not, he wasn’t above making her pay. In a sitch like this it didn’t matter if feelings were involved. Sometimes a point had to be made and he wasn’t above playing with her a little. He had a date for Winters party tonight and that dates objective was a dose of reality to the little girl who shook the rabid dogs cage. She needed to see what she walked away from, needed to see that there was no getting over him in the long sense. It may be creepy, it may be out right lunacy, but he was going to make sure she saw good and well the man she left behind and how affective jealousy can rear even the prettiest of heads.
He parked his cycle in the back of the building and took to the side entrance of The Spoke, a biker bar located in the Queen Anne district. Fangs enjoyed the Spoke because if appearance mattered at all, then here is where he fit. Most folks shied away from a man of his six foot six height, and his shoulder length black hair and arms sleeved in tattoos did nothing to warm his presence. He looked the very part of the Sire, the killer he was. People and creatures alike stepped away from him, not from the energy of danger that surrounded him, but because a man who looked like Fangs should have come with
a warning label, ‘Keep back ten feet’.
Not here though, here he looked like everyone else and though he was known and open to the Dark world as a Sire, it was out of respect that he was feared.
Night, Cross and Burn were sitting at the corner booth and Fangs made his way over to the other Sires. All used names that related to the turn, when their Sires created them based on a ability their Sires perceived in them. Fangs had the sharpest Fangs his Sire, Kaplan, had ever seen. He had always assumed that Night, Cross and Burn had been named for a similar effect.
Fangs was the oldest of the Sires at the table so it was customary for them to rise in greeting and not make eye contact until Fangs had taken a seat. Never one for formalities Fangs waved the gesture off and told them to sit and relax. Had they been his men perhaps he'd have endured the ritual just to make a point but he wasn’t in the mood. "I see I made it in the nick of time." Fangs glanced around the table at the empty shot glasses and the bottle of Jim Beam black label that was yet unopened.
That… is restraint.
Twisting the cap he poured himself a few fingers and handed the bottle to Night. "We received a report from Vancouver that stated a Vampire, young, known only as Crave has been killing and looks like the bound Bries are coming your way."
Fangs smiled and dropped the empty glass back on the table. "Right to the point. I like it." He glanced at Cross who handled San Diego and up toward Seattle where a majority of his Posse had moved over the years. "Anything come from your side?"
Cross shook his head no. "Had a few from my Posse who heard a thing or two about this Crave but we have been clean of kills for over fifty years." Fangs nodded because he knew how hard the Sire had fought to keep his territory clean.
Glancing at Burn he nodded in the same question. "You?"
"Nope, not so much as a fist fight." Burn was new to being a Sire and had a very small Posse beneath him. The majority of the Vamps in Spokane were Fangs. Burn had been one of Fangs Vampires and recently promoted him when Spokane became a hassle to get to in short notice. "The Posse has joined and helped out with mine, I got about twenty right now so yours have been good to me."
It was a comment made in respect and Fangs nodded. "I can’t do anything until I can verify that this Crave is in my area." He leveled his stare and his tone on Night. "If he's been in your territory and only now about to cross boundaries I should have known about the problem long before tonight."
"I aint about to get into a battle over logistics with you Fangs. I’m trying to head the son of a bitch off at the pass."
"If I'd have known about this Vampire in the first place we as a whole could have made damn sure there wasn’t a problem. This shit is liable to hit the Dark and we will have to answer for it, let alone the mess they leave in the human world." As his tone began to rise, Cross, Burn and Night leaned back. They knew damn well why Fangs was pissed. If Vampires got out for one, the humans would have a field day. There would be a lot of test labs in their future not to mention the good old fashioned lynch mobs.
Fangs leaned in making it pointedly clear why he was in charge. "We get to the bottom of this before I have the Arch Demon on my ass sending his men out to see what this Crave is up to."
"Let the demons come." Night chortled and took another shot from the bottle when Fangs leaned forward and took the bottle from him.
"If we let the demons come, then it makes the Vampire Nation look like we’re hell bent on killing. We don’t want it going that far, we run things not the fucking demons." Fangs knew his hatred was prejudicial but his Vamps were not about to get in a battle with the demons over one of their own.
"Just because you hate demons-"
"I don’t hate demons, I just prefer to never deal with them. I want to maintain a cordial undertone. If they think for one minute that we can’t control our ranks then what?" Fangs snarled trying to keep his voice low. He wasn’t looking for a demon vs. Vampires war here, he simply wanted to maintain his spot at the top.
"All I'm saying is let them think it. They aint stupid enough to bend a war out of steel."
"What?"
"Bending steel ya know like make a war out of the impossible." Night said and leaned back as if whatever point he was making had been met. Fangs lifted the table and took one of the steel stems that held it upright and bent it in half with one hand and looked at Night, a whole lot of what-now-jack-ass on his face. He bent the leg stem back and dropped the table letting the shot glasses fall over and roll off to shatter on the floor.
"Never assume something so fucking contrite is impossible, we may be the stronger breed but they have us beat seven fold in numbers not mentioning born demons." Fangs would have sighed had he needed the air, sighed anyway because it was all he could think to do.
"Look why don’t we all do our part on digging up the Sire for this Crave character and make sure all of us are on the same page. That way whatever territory he crosses over into we can battle it out on our terms and keep the devastation from unwanted ears." Burn had been the “go to” Vampire when he had been in leadership of Fangs Posse, knowing he was leading the Spokane vampire’s relaxed Fangs measurably.
"I agree but this problem gets handled fast and efficient I don’t care who his Sire is. The entire state of Washington is mine with the exception of transfer on Spokane, until then I want to know the name and Sire of every Vampire in my area and suggest you do the same. Find Crave and get him nice and tight and leave him for sunset."
The meeting dwindled on a little longer until most bases were covered. Burn let Fangs know that a few Bear Shifters had been killed in human accidents for not taking care during hunting season. A few of the Shifters from the Bear’s family wanted to go after the humans but knew they didn’t have the fight and wanted the Vamps to get involved.
Fangs gave an 'Oh hell no.' to that one.
Most of the business was simple shit, who was inducted, who the sire was, nothing out of the ordinary. When a new Sire like Burn came on the scene it was a lot of investing of time and energy to make a Vampire, something only an old Vampire can do, and in the beginning Sires turn them out like crazy and not all inductees make it out alive after the change. Some get put down immediately because they pose too much of a threat. It’s something that is discussed with the human before the change in grave and dark detail. Crave was turned and left on his own and with the bloodlust at its highest in the beginning, without a Sire with you, you were bound to kill anything.
Sires are the only Vampires allowed to turn a human. They are strong enough and they have proven by age the ability to defend and show respect to superiors. Fangs became a Sire in 1602 and had sired over a hundred vampires by his third year in the Sires council. Now days he had thousands and though they spread out over the world, most Vamps choose to stay near their Sire. A Sire like Fangs was a dream to be under. He gave a long leash for freedom and demanded honor and integrity from his Posse. They stayed close because he took care of what was his. Something that Crave obviously didn’t have.
The meeting broke up and Fangs hit the road not hanging around for beers. He had another fight ahead of him, one that needed an arm trophy and a lot of Jim Beam. Bri could walk out on him tonight, he was prepared for it but he would push her very limits tonight and teach her once and for all that she may have walked out but they were so not over yet.
Chapter Three
Bri walked out of the parking garage not a drop of blood on her jeans. She had taken to we Bring Haynes tank tops and jeans for the wardrobe of a killer. Haynes tanks were five for ten bucks and came in black, all the more better to hide the blood.
Carl broke easily, begged for his life, begged for mercy. Bri gave none. She sent his soul off to her father Ezek and laughed at the irony. Carl Barnes had been afraid of the dark his entire life, now his eternity would be spent in it.
Now she sat cross legged in the park and waited for Sadie to move on. The light, though Bri never had seen it, came when only the soul had let go. Bri fou
nd comfort for the girl knowing Peter would take excellent care of her. Comfort and a nagging fear that one day very soon she wouldn’t be able to help them all. She had her own worries to deal with as well as the human souls. She didn’t mind avenging the human pieces of shit, she enjoyed ridding the world of such evil, but there were bigger issues brewing, her freedom for starters. The blessed knife, say, for starters. That and the fact that it was possibly in her possession now.
The blessed knife was Bri’s ticket to freedom. Freedom from the Dark. To do as she has always wanted. To be able to help before the death of innocents, and to free her from her “Prince Charming” husband Filicus Quintana. An Incubus with true evil in his blood. Ezek had said that perhaps somewhere down the line, a long ways down, Fil had some form of Borned demon blood in his line. Making him a complete freak of nature and a one of a kind killer. The knife was blessed by Ezek himself, created to ensure, when used at the end of her five-hundred years, that they would slay the bastard. It was perhaps, the only part of her story that all of her tales had gotten close to right.
Awakened (A Fairy Tales Novel) Page 2