Infernal Assassin- Vampire Killer

by Melissa Hawke

  His slash was clumsy and slow. I had a feeling he was doing it to scare me and hadn’t actually planned to make contact. It didn’t matter. No one took a swing at me and got away with it. It was child’s play to seize his wrist and apply pressure, forcing his hand open. He let out a groan and the knife clattered from his grip.

  I probably should have taken the knife and left it at that. But I’d had a bad day and I wasn’t about to let go of this unexpected catharsis. When life hands you homicidal racist pieces of trash, you say thank you and beat them like a birthday piñata.

  I brought my knee up and lodged it in his gut. All the air left him and he doubled over my knee wheezing. I seized one arm and used the leverage I had to flip him onto his back on the hard concrete. His head impacted the sidewalk with a satisfying thunk and his eyes fluttered closed. In other circumstances, I might have felt guilty. He was just a kid, and I clearly had an unfair advantage. But right now, I couldn’t find it in myself to think about fairness. Nothing in my life had been fair. Not for years. It was high time that these boys learned that lesson for themselves. Eventually, something bigger and badder than yourself came along and it cut you down at the knees.

  The whole exchange had probably only taken about seven seconds. The boys who’d been gathered around John took a step back when I glanced up at them.

  “Anyone else want to try me?” I asked.

  They exchanged glances and then slowly shook their heads, retreating further. The short redhead bumped into the girl and then let out a little shriek of fear as if he was afraid just touching her was going to provoke my ire.

  “S-sorry!” he stammered.

  “Don’t apologize to me.” I jabbed a finger at the girl. “Apologize to her.”

  His eyes slid over to the girl nervously and his mouth turned down in distaste. I took a measured step forward, stooping to pick up the knife. The calculated move had the intended effect.

  “Sorry!” he blurted.

  “Get lost,” I said. “And if I catch you back here, I’ll snap all of you like matchsticks. Understand me?”

  Their heads bobbed nervously. I nudged their fallen companion with my sneaker and half-rolled his limp body toward them. “He hit his head pretty hard. You’ll want to get him to a hospital, in case there’s a concussion.”

  Then I stepped over his prone form, shouldering my way past the frightened boys. I offered her a hand. “Come on, kid. I’ll walk you home. You clearly need an escort.”

  The girl eyed my hand warily but didn’t take it.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, stooping so we were at eye-level with each other. Now that I was looking at her directly, I could tell she was probably in middle school or early high school. The green-checkered skirt that peeked out from beneath the overlong hoodie filled me with nostalgia. It reminded me of long, humid days listening to Sister Catherine teach us arithmetic. The rooms had been no bigger than a walk-in closet and the air conditioning had been a joke.

  “Do you go to this school?” I asked. The place was upscale. Much nicer than Saint Mary’s had been.

  “I used to, when I was younger. Before...”

  The girl stared down at her sneakers rather than look at me. They were in worse shape than any pair I’d ever seen, held together seemingly only by duct tape and prayer. Closer inspection of her jeans showed me that they were more darning than denim and the blue hoodie had been tossed on to hide the bulky collar at her neck. It looked like an oversized version of a shock collar, with webbed nylon and a heavy black square nestled into her throat.

  I took a step back automatically. This girl was a werewolf. The collar she wore was basically a government-sanctioned torture device. It could sense an impending shift and send painful stimuli coursing through the body in response. It was designed to have a Pavlovian effect on the wolves wearing them, discouraging them from even thinking about shifting to beast form.

  I should probably turn around and walk away. The virus wasn’t supposed to be communicable to the public, but that didn’t mean I wanted to test the theory. My good deed had been done for the day.

  “Thank you, Miss,” the girl said in a small voice.

  “Why didn’t you defend yourself?” I asked, eyeing her warily. “The collar chains your beast, it doesn’t make you helpless. You still have greater than average strength. Punch them next time.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. QZPD would come into the shelter and kill all of us.”

  Just the mention of that thuggish band made my stomach churn. QZPD were barely trained citizens that roved the quarantined sections of New York, looking for werewolves that were breaking curfew or any of the very restrictive rules that the government had put in place after the outbreak. The public officials tended to look the other way when wolves turned up dead under mysterious circumstances. They were a bunch of psychopaths armed with bats, guns, and a grudge.

  “I’m Kaya, by the way,” she said in a small voice. “Kaya Morgan. I’m sorry if I was any trouble. I’ll head home now.”

  Her shoulders hunched forward like she was walking toward the gallows. For all I knew, she was. The sun was beginning to tip toward the western horizon and she still had a ways to walk before she got to the nearest quarantine zone. She’d have to face down the peace officers—as the QZPD had dubbed themselves—when she reached the border and explain why she’d been out of their assigned area. There was no guarantee she’d get back home unscathed.

  Pity stirred the long-suppressed impulse to protect. Maybe it was my recent visit to Catalina’s bedside that made my insides softer than putty.

  I sighed and trudged after her. “Hold up. You’re not going alone.”

  Kaya glanced at me and offered me a tentative half-smile. “You don’t have to come along.”

  “Yeah, I do. I’m Natalia, by the way.”

  A thick, oppressive silence fell between us and we didn’t speak for a few city blocks. People jostled all around us. I was hit with more than my share of elbows as we made our way toward the quarantine zone. Kaya said nothing as we were battered by the crowd.

  “Why do you put up with stuff like this?” I asked.

  “It’s better than being deported.”

  My stride faltered. The virus that caused werewolf transformations was usually congenital. Wolves were bred, not made, except in rare circumstances. A bite might turn you, but if you were unlucky enough to be attacked by a wolf, survival was unlikely. And since the supernatural races had come out, the wolves were careful to keep themselves in line. Everyone knew the Trust would someone like me to put down a rogue wolf.

  When a mutated strain of the wolf virus began to spread outside of wolf bloodlines three years ago, the Vampire houses and the U.S Government acted quickly to keep it from becoming an epidemic. They made a deal that stipulated that if a person was found to carry the virus, they’d be shipped off to the Marshall Islands to join a colony of affected wolves there.

  The only other choice was to don a collar and enter a quarantine zone. If it had been me, I’d probably have taken my chances on the island.

  That thought led to another, more troubling one. If Ashby was right, the mark the vampires wanted me to hit was about to release a modified virus that would affect all demi-humans. I shuddered, to think of all the non-human races caged up and tagged like animals. Ironically, the wolf virus had brought out the worst in humanity as well. If the virus hadn’t created sickness, death, or uncontrollable shifts, the so-called peace officers would have no excuse to continue the inhumane practices they’d put in place for the public’s safety.

  If I took this job, it might also give me the answers I’d been seeking for two years, and finally give my baby sister back to me. It might also do some good on a larger scale.

  The streets grew ever more dilapidated the closer we got to the quarantine zone. I’d never seen a place so dingy, and I’d grown up in a rough neighborhood in midtown. My next door neighbor for years had
been a pimp, and visits from the cops were a regular occurrence. I’d gotten to know several of them by name before Mom had finally moved us to Queens. Ahead of us rose a wall of corrugated steel and barbed wire. The only breach in the structure was a squat square building that resembled a toll booth. Three men milled in front of the entrance, holding shotguns loosely in their hands.

  “How the hell can this be better than deportation?” I wondered aloud.

  Kaya didn’t respond. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. The moment we were in range all three of the shotguns were brought to bear.

  “Out in public without permission,” the largest of the men drawled, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a better look at her. The icy blue eyes swept over Kaya, appraising her in a manner so lascivious it made my skin crawl. The man had to be at least forty. If Kaya was a day over fifteen I’d eat my own shoes. “That’s another demerit, Morgan. It’s almost like you want to be shipped off to Wolf Isle.”

  “Mack–”

  “That’s Officer Hollins to you,” he snapped. His hand stroked down the stock of the shotgun lovingly. “Show some respect, girl.”

  “She’ll show you respect when you deserve it,” I said, glowering at him.

  Mack turned his gaze on her. “Where’s your collar, Lupa?”

  I bristled at the implied insult. Lupa wasn’t quite as bad as calling someone a bitch. In the technical sense, they both meant the same thing.

  “I’m not a wolf.”

  His brow quirked up and his mouth curled in a mocking smile. “I’m afraid I can’t take that on face value. Where’s your ID?”

  Without tearing my gaze away from Mack, I reached back and unzipped the backpack, fishing my wallet from its depths. I flipped it open and showed him the license nestled into its little plastic holder. A large capital H had been printed in bold in the species category just beneath my name and date of birth. The inclusion of a species header on all state IDs had been hotly contested for many years. Many had been worried it would lead to a rise in speciest attitudes. But as always, government plowed ahead with whatever ill-conceived idea they’d thought of, regardless of what the public wanted.

  Mack frowned at it. “You’re not allowed in the quarantine zone, Miss Valdez. QZPD are here for human protection and it isn’t safe past this point.”

  “I’m a health and safety inspector,” I lied smoothly. “And Miss Morgan’s shelter is my next stop. She was kind enough to give me directions. She was out on my orders, so that demerit isn’t warranted. Let me pass or I’ll be reporting the insubordination to your superiors.”

  There was a time in the very distant past that I would have cringed at telling that lie. My mother had raised Catalina and I to be scrupulously honest. Years with the Trust’s covert ops team had all but numbed me to dishonesty, to a point where truth had felt strange when it rolled off my tongue. Catalina had never released her white-knuckled grip on her integrity. It had made her something of an oddball in the Trust’s political sphere and had earned her many enemies. And though I couldn’t prove it, I imagined it was the reason for the attack that rendered her all but lifeless.

  Mack exchanged a glance with his fellow officers. “There isn’t supposed to be another inspection for a month. We had ours for this quarter.”

  “Surprise. There were code violations. Let me through, Mister Hollins. I won’t ask again.”

  I wasn’t sure what he saw on my face, but he stepped back and let me pass through the narrow entryway into the quarantine zone. Kaya trailed in behind me, head down and shoulders hunched.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered. “I can go on from here.”

  “That man was a pervert,” I muttered. “If I left you alone with him he probably would have assaulted you. No one deserves that.”

  Kaya squinted up at me. “Why do you even care? It’s pretty clear you don’t like us, Miss Valdez.”

  I snorted. “That doesn’t make you special, sweet cheeks. I don’t like anybody.”

  She cracked a small smile. “My shelter is just up ahead. Thank you for that back there. I really can’t afford to get another demerit.”

  “Then why were you out?”

  Kaya didn’t answer me. She straightened out of her slouch the further we got from the steel walls. She even removed the blue hoodie, revealing a long-sleeved brown shirt beneath it. She was too skinny for her height and I suspected she didn’t get enough to eat.

  The neighborhood was so squalid I nearly turned back the way I’d come. I’d suspected neglect from the government, but not this. All the trappings of civilized life had been left behind the moment we crossed into the quarantine zone. No human contact apparently meant no trash services, no sewage maintenance, and no construction crews to repair damages. Most of the buildings here should have had a date with a wrecking ball a long time ago. The less said about the smell the better.

  It was like someone had turned the clock back a hundred years and planted the wolves firmly in the dark ages. Nature was slowly creeping in to reclaim the place now that humans had stopped trying to hack it away. The grass in every lot was overgrown and scavenging animals picked over the trash with abandon.

  “My God,” I breathed. “How do you live like this?”

  Surely no one in their right mind could condone this? Even the biggest bigot in the world should have some basic standards for humane treatment of others. I was vaguely aware of the most recent outbreak of the lupine virus and the quarantine camps, but I’d been too focused on my own problems to pay it much attention.

  Kaya let out a bitter chuckle. “You say that like we have a choice.”

  The shelter had probably once been an apartment building. The beige siding was damaged, graffitied, and badly in need of a power wash. I lounged against the metal fence that surrounded it while Kaya went through the standard ritual of buzzing anyone who’d listen and let her in. I could feel the stares of wolves on my back.

  Not for the first time, I felt the squirming sense of self-consciousness that came from being the anomaly in a crowd. I’d felt it for the first time in second grade when I’d been the only Hispanic girl in my entire class. I’d felt it countless times since then and I felt it again now.

  Most of the wolves here had some sort of Native American heritage. A long time ago, werewolves had been common in almost every corner of the world. The Loup-Garou, the Wendigo, the Lycan, and the Lobisomem. All of them had gone extinct after long years of war with House Grieves. The North American strain of lycanthropy was the only one left known to man.

  Before the outbreak of the plague, the wolves had been the most readily embraced of the supernatural races. They were the closest to human. Their genetics made them able to put on muscle easily and paired with the somewhat offensive and cliché attraction to all things exotic, they’d garnered a lot of fans. A werewolf biker scene had cropped up in the early 2000s and the vampires had been spitting mad when they’d nearly overtaken the undead in the competition for the most desirable supernatural creature. They were also considered more harmless, as they were in their human forms most of the month. Ninety percent of the time they weren’t dangerous and even during the full moon, they were just overgrown wolves – not the ravenous beasts of legend and folklore.

  That was, until the plague. It made them ferocious, and wild.

  The plague that Eleanor Dawson had started. If this place was any indication, there were thousands upon thousands of wolves still living in impossibly filthy conditions because of what she’d done. Those that weren’t deported to an irradiated island to await their horrible, grisly death by plague.

  That settled it. I was taking this job. And if there was a chance for me to be alone with the girl before she met her final end, I’d take a little bit out of her hide for this.

  The intercom crackled and a man’s basso voice issued from the speaker. “Damn it, Kaya, we can hear you. Just come in already. You do this every time.”
<
br />   Kaya’s grin was impish. “It’s my prerogative as your sister to annoy you.”

  “Get in here. You’re going to miss supper.”

  Kaya glanced sideways at me. “I’ve got a guest with me, Jay. I was hoping you’d let her stay for dinner.”

  “Preferably not as the main course,” I quipped, only half-joking. Werewolves who’d been exposed to the plague craved flesh during the height of the lunar cycle. I’d seen one too many maulings not to be wary of the damage a wolf could do.

  Thankfully the voice on the other end let out a throaty chuckle. The gate swung open and revealed a broken sidewalk leading up to the building. Kaya darted into the yard quickly and made a beeline for the tall, hulking figure that stepped onto the porch. I wasn’t sure how this man was related to Kaya, because he was her physical opposite. Broad where she was thin, muscular where she seemed to be mousy. His hair had been swept away from his face in a ponytail that was longer than mine. His face broke out into a huge smile when he spotted Kaya.

  She threw herself into his arms and he spun her once before setting her back on her feet. The smile dimmed when he caught sight of me waffling on the front steps. I didn’t know what the hell I was still doing here. I’d done what I set out to do. She was safe. I should find another port of entry and slip back out. I needed to lounge on my couch and down a six pack. I thought best when I was buzzed and I had a lot of reading to do.

  Jay’s gaze traveled from the crown of my head down to my toes and heat washed through me. It had been a long time since I’d been gazed at in such naked, carnal appreciation. And he wasn’t bad to look at. For a moment I entertained a thoroughly pleasant fantasy of what I could do to this man if things were different.

  “Who’s your friend, Kaya?” Jay’s voice had dropped into a huskier octave.

  “This is Natalia,” Kaya said, dragging her brother to the door by his elbow. “John and his gang were waiting for me on the way back. She ran them off.”