I?ll Be Slaying You

by Cynthia Eden

  “Simon Chase.”

  “Whatever. I don’t have time for this shit. I’m not going to screw you because you shoved me into the pavement. And, just so you know, I didn’t need you to save me. Not like it’s my first ball game, okay?”

  I’m not going to screw you. Hmmm. “Don’t remember asking for a screw.” Though he wouldn’t refuse one with her. “Just your number.”

  She barred her teeth. Pretty teeth. White and straight. Not too sharp, though, but then, she was human.

  His tongue scraped across his own teeth. A bit sharper than hers.

  “I’m working now, I don’t have time for this—”

  “Yeah, you never did answer my question.” Simon cocked his head to the side. “Just what kind of work do you do?”

  She holstered the gun. “The kind you wouldn’t understand.”

  Doubtful. “Let’s see…you had a wooden stake and you were about ten feet away from a vampire the first time I saw you.” He paused. “I’d say 12

  that makes you a hunter.”

  Her gaze raked over him. “So what? You know about vampires? Good for you.”

  “Oh, I know about vampires.” Too much about them. “I also know about the demons and the charmers and the shifters that are running this city.” He even knew her boss, Jason Pak. Pak was the Night Watch Agency.

  He’d started the bounty hunting business almost twenty years ago, and Dee was one of his top hunters.

  But she didn’t need to know that he’d already researched her.

  His hands were loose at his sides now. “I know all about the Other.”

  The humidity from the hot July night had his shirt sticking against his flesh.

  “And I stopped being afraid of the monsters in the dark one hell of a long time ago.”

  Her lips parted.

  “Fucking hunter.” A snarl, high-pitched with fury.

  Shit.

  Simon’s stare shot over Dee’s shoulder. The vamp was there, blood dripping down her arm, her fangs bared and her eyes glazed black.

  “I’m going to rip your throat open and drain you dry, bitch, I’m going to—”

  Dee shifted her stance slightly. Simon’s gaze jerked back to her. “Sure you’re not afraid?” She whispered.

  He gave a curt nod.

  “I’ll slice your lover open! He’ll beg for death. He’ll—”

  Dee spun around. The stake was in her hand. Wow—he hadn’t even seen her grab it and now the wood was in her hand, no—it was in the air.

  Flying end over end in a deadly arc.

  Then sinking into the vampire’s chest.

  The vamp gave a muffled scream and dropped to her knees.

  “I wanted to take you in alive,” Dee murmured. “But you just couldn’t make this night easy, could you?”

  The black faded from the vampire’s eyes.

  Dee squared her shoulders and stalked toward the vamp. “And he’s not my lover.”

  “Not yet,” Simon said and realized that he was impressed.

  Sandra Dee had taken down her prey. She hadn’t let him distract her.

  She hadn’t given up and faded away when the cops appeared.

  And when given a chance for the kill, she hadn’t hesitated.

  Interesting.

  Finally, exactly what he’d expected.

  13

  A team from Night Watch came to clear the alley. The vamp’s body was taken away, hell if he knew where. But, then, he didn’t really care.

  Tonight’s exercise had been very fruitful. In all, Simon was pleased with the progress that had been made.

  Of course, if he’d gotten Dee’s number, he would have been more pleased.

  Next time.

  Simon stepped into the shadows and rapped against the black door that waited in the darkness. It opened instantly and he crossed the threshold, already pulling out his money.

  The man inside was small, squat, and he had his gun cradled in his hand. Greasy black hair was slicked back from his forehead and his beady eyes gleamed when he caught sight of the cash in Simon’s hand.

  The guy reached for the bills—

  Simon snatched his fingers back. “You hurt the human.”

  Sweat trickled down the man’s cheek. It was hot as fuck in there. But, hell, it was summer in Baton Rouge, it was hot as fuck everywhere. “D-didn’t mean to, when you took the woman down, the bullet clipped him—”

  Clipped him, hadn’t killed him, and that was why the shooter was still alive. “I want you out of town, tonight.” Simon kept the money out of the guy’s reach. “If I ever see you again, you’re dead.”

  A gulp.

  Simon leaned in close, close enough for the shooter to see the intent in his eyes. “And it won’t be an easy death.” Those he delivered rarely were.

  “Do you understand?”

  The man managed a quick nod.

  Simon tossed the money to him. The bastard had done his job. He’d taken the shot at Dee. Given Simon the perfect opportunity that he’d needed.

  The human’s injury just hadn’t been part of the plan.

  Simon turned away from him and headed for the door. There was more work to do. Always more.

  The bullet slammed into his back, a hard punch of fire that burned through skin and muscle, and tore right through the bone.

  He hit the floor hard, his face slamming down and the blood pouring from his body. Dammit.

  Should have seen that one coming. You just couldn’t trust killers these days.

  He heard the creak of footsteps and caught the whisper of excited breath. “N-nobody threatens Frankie Lee.” Another shot. This one fired into 14

  the back of his right leg.

  Simon didn’t cry out. He locked his jaw and battled the pain.

  “You’re the one who won’t get an easy death, asshole.” Another shot.

  Left thigh this time.

  Sonofabitch.

  Frankie grabbed the back of Simon’s head and wrenched his face up.

  The gun barrel stared back at Simon and the scent of burning metal filled his nostrils. “Nobody threatens—”

  Simon lunged off the floor. One jerk of his hand and he broke Frankie’s wrist.

  “Fuck!” Frankie’s face bleached of color.

  The gun clattered to the floor. Simon didn’t even glance at it. He wouldn’t need the weapon. The gun really would be too easy, and so not his style.

  Simon grabbed the squirrelly bastard, wrapped his hand around Frankie’s throat, and pinned him up against the wall. Frankie’s fat legs dangled a good two feet off the ground.

  “How the hell—”

  Simon smiled.

  Frankie started to shake.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Simon whispered, the scent of his own blood clogging his nostrils. “You had your chance.”

  Now, it was his turn.

  15

  Chapter 2

  “Ready for a new case?”

  Dee glanced up when Jason Pak strolled into her office. The guy had on one of his fancy suits—always, the fancy suits—and he was smiling.

  A smile from Pak was never a good thing.

  Dee slowly eased her feet off the desk. “What kind of case?” She’d been thinking about taking a break. Maybe heading over to Biloxi and staying at one of the casinos and enjoying the beach.

  He shut the door. No sound. Pak was good at not making any noise.

  He’d told her once that he’d learned to hunt and track with his Choctaw grandfather.

  And that he’d learned to kill by trailing his Korean mother.

  He crossed the room and tossed a file onto her desk. “We’ve got word that a Born Master is in town.”

  Her blood froze. The ice thickened inside of her, then rose to coat her skin as the chill enveloped her.

  Born Master. She licked dry lips. Okay, not a lot scared her, but those bastards did. “What’s a BM doing in this city?” Born Masters were rare, thank Christ. Only a handful were in th
e United States. Most of them preferred to stay in Europe or Africa.

  Born Masters were the vamps who were born bloodsuckers. Well, okay, technically, they were born looking human, acting human, but they weren’t.

  Eventually their bodies stopped tolerating human food. The hunger for blood consumed them. Their teeth sharpened. Their senses kicked up to super level, along with their strength.

  And then you knew, those freaks weren’t human. They were pretty much immortal.

  Pak gave a shrug and his dark eyes never left her face. “I’d guess he’s looking to build a beautiful little vamp army.”

  Her back teeth locked. The disease of vampirism had come from the genetic jokes that were the BMs. The Born Masters had gone out, bitten their prey, exchanged blood, and what should have been a few DNA freaks way back when—well, they’d multiplied. Nearly swept away a whole country back in the Middle Ages.

  Black Plague, her ass.

  16

  It was so easy to rewrite history sometimes. Especially when you were trying to stop the humans from panicking.

  Dee pressed her palms against her jean-clad thighs. The better to wipe the sweat away. Because, yeah, she was sweating. Taking down a Born Master wasn’t an easy task. BMs were too strong. All the ones she’d ever heard of were close to a millennia old.

  In the vamp world, age brought strength. Especially to the Borns.

  “The streets can’t be flooded with Taken,” Pak said, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her with the cold stare that always saw too much.

  She rolled her shoulders and tried to look like her heart wasn’t about to break out of her chest. “Maybe the bastard isn’t planning to change folks.”

  The Taken were the vamps who were killed, then reborn to a life of blood and fury. Not everyone could survive the transformation. “Maybe he’s just looking for some kills.” Her voice was cool, expressionless. “Could be he just wants a bloodbath.”

  Sandra Dee! Run, baby, run—

  The scream pierced her mind and her hands pressed harder against her thighs. No, can’t think about that now.

  Not with Pak watching her like she was some kind of lab rat.

  “Been a long time since the city saw a vampire rampage.”

  Her face had been ice cold, now her cheeks burned with pinpricks of heat. “Yeah. About sixteen years.” Could have been yesterday though.

  Because those blood-soaked memories weren’t ever gonna fade.

  Mama? Not sleeping. No, she wasn’t sleeping in her bed.

  Pak’s head cocked to the right. “I need you to be straight with me, Dee.”

  Now that snapped her out of the past. She sat up, fast, eyes narrowing.

  “I’ve always been upfront with you, Pak. Always.” There wasn’t a shadow in her life he didn’t know about. Without Pak, she would have been on the streets.

  No, she would have been dead.

  She’d been eighteen and he’d given her a place to stay. He’d taken shit for it, too. A forty-year-old man bringing in a stray from the streets.

  Sex hadn’t been an issue with them, though most folks didn’t buy that.

  Course, Dee didn’t give a shit what most folks thought. Pak hadn’t been a father figure. She’d had a father. Pak had just been someone to keep the monsters at bay.

  Then someone to teach her how to kick the monsters’ asses.

  And he’d been someone who understood loss.

  17

  “This is different. This case is going to be different.” The man was so still. She’d never understood how the guy could be so motionless. She was always moving. Twitching. Tapping.

  “It’s just another vamp,” she said, and tried to believe the words.

  “Born Master or Taken, they can all die.” Just getting them to die was the tricky part.

  Getting them to die again.

  “If you can’t handle this, I’ll put Zane on point. He can go after the bastard.”

  “Zane doesn’t know vamps like I do.” Zane Wynter was a good hunter, no denying it. But the demon didn’t understand the undead like she did.

  A pause from Pak. “Zane also isn’t human. He won’t have your…

  weaknesses.”

  Oh, now, that was just hitting below the belt. So Zane was half-demon. Dee shot to her feet. “Charmers don’t have any damn strengths that put them above humans, either.” So the charmers could talk to animals—yeah, like that was an advantage when you were hunting paranormal predators. Over a dozen agents at Night Watch were charmers and they had no advantage over her.

  She stared down the lead charmer. “I’m not weak.”

  “Never said you were.” Another pause. Jeez but the guy was always working the silences. That tactic used to drive her crazy. Okay. Still did.

  “Never said I was going to put a charmer on point, either.”

  No, just a demon.

  “Zane would be a lot harder to kill than you,” Pak said flatly.

  “Maybe.” Yes, dammit. Freaking demon strength. He wouldn’t have been caught unaware last night. “But I’m one hell of a better vampire killer than he is.” True and so what if she sounded bitchy?

  His nod had her breath easing out. “Yes, you are.” He pointed a finger toward her. “But you’re going to need help on this one. I want Zane watching your back.”

  Not going to argue. She could always use the demon’s powers.

  “And I’ll get Jude to come in for cover, if we need him.”

  Ah, Jude. The tiger shifter who was currently blissed out with his new mate. Dee gave a nod. No way would she turn down a shifter’s nose when she was tracking a vamp.

  Her pounding heartbeat still shook her chest, but her palms were dry now, and she asked, “So what’s the target’s name? Which badass thinks he’s taking over our city?”

  18

  Pak smiled then, his gator grin, and Dee’s muscles locked. “Don’t know who is he. Just what he is.” He inclined his head toward the file. “Intel says word is ripping through the city about the BM. No name. No face. Just the knowledge from every witch and psychic in the area that power is coming through—and it’s coming through hard.”

  Her brows shot up. No name? “Then who’s the client on this one?”

  There was always a client with Night Watch. The agents didn’t hunt for pleasure. They weren’t supposed to, anyway. They hunted the Other because the cops couldn’t track those killers. When a supernatural went on a killing spree, the higher ups at the Baton Rouge PD called in Night Watch.

  Sure, the Night Watch team brought down some humans every now and then, just for the sake of keeping their cover in place as a legit bounty hunting agency, but the paranormals were the real targets.

  Pak straightened his already straight suit. “On this case, I’m the client.”

  Damn. He must think this threat was serious because Pak never let the cases get personal. His rule number one.

  “And Dee—I want this bastard taken down, got me? Because I don’t want to see blood pouring in my streets, not again.”

  With a Born Master, that could happen. Hell on earth could happen with one.

  “Consider him staked.” Easy words, hard job. But she’d do it, because no way was she going to stand by and watch innocents get slaughtered by vamps gorging on blood.

  As Pak had said, not again.

  Time to sharpen up her stakes and hit the hunting grounds.

  The music was terrible, the food was shit, and the crowd of dancers were all but screwing on the floor.

  Dee leaned against the bar, trying to ignore the throbbing in her temples and letting her gaze sweep past the throng inside Onyx.

  This was the eighth club she’d been in since she’d hit the streets.

  Humans only. Well, mostly humans. Onyx catered to the unaware, and that made the place perfect for vamps. So much easier to pick up prey when the humans didn’t realize the danger they faced.

  They didn’t realize it, not until their dates stopped
seducing them and started feeding from them.

  By then, it was too late to scream.

  Her nails drummed on the bar. Zane lounged in the back corner, his emerald gaze sweeping over the room. Some big-breasted blonde was at his 19

  side. Typical.

  Jude hadn’t made an appearance yet. But he would soon. She’d use his nose to sniff out the place. See if he could detect the rot of the undead and—

  “Let me buy you a drink.”

  She’d ignored the men beside her. Greeted the few come-ons she’d gotten with silence. But that voice—

  Dee glanced to the left. Tall, Dark, and Sexy was back.

  And he was smiling down at her. A big, wide grin that showed off a weird little dint in his right cheek. Not a dimple, too hard for that. She hadn’t noticed that curve last night, not with the hunt and kill distracting her.

  Shit, but he was hot.

  Thanks to the spotlights over the bar, she could see him so much better tonight. No shadows to hide behind now.

  Hard angles, strong jaw, sexy man.

  She licked her lips. “Already got one.” Dee held up her glass.

  “Babe, that’s water.” He motioned to the bartender. “Let me get you something with bite.”

  She’d spent the night looking for a bite. Hadn’t found it yet. Her fingers snagged his. “I’m working.” Booze couldn’t slow her down. Not with the one she hunted.

  Black brows shot up. Then he leaned in close. So close that she caught the scent of his aftershave. “You gonna kill another woman tonight?” A whisper that blew against her.

  Her lips tightened. “Vampire,” she said quietly and dropped his hand.

  He blinked. Those eyes of his were eerie. Like a smoky fog staring back at her.

  “I hunted a vampire last night,” Dee told him, keeping her voice hushed because in a place like this, you never knew who was listening.

  “And, technically, she’d already been killed once before I got to her.”

  His fingers locked around her upper arm. She’d yanked on a black T-shirt before heading out, and his fingertips skimmed her flesh. “Guess you’re right,” he murmured and leaned in even closer.

  His lips were about two inches—maybe just one—away from hers.

  What would he taste like?