by Jackie Ivie
“We don’t need insect repellent, do we?” Sydney whispered at his ear.
He shook his head.
“Nice. Perfect vision. Super strength. Flight. And immunity to insects and spiders. Like I said. Nice. Hmm.”
His groin kicked in on that little purr of hers. He would’ve warned her not to do it again, except it was fairly pleasant. And he’d been on a drought for centuries. Dev turned his attention back to his mark. Focused. And found him again.
Looks like Anton knew he’d been found out and targeted. There were clues. Why else would he hole up in this technologically dead spot? Continually light cigarette after cigarette behind the screened-in porch? Post six gentlemen with AK-47s in the grounds of his rented house? They weren’t the only bodyguards. Anton had two more burly types accompanying his every move from behind the screened porch. All packing the same hardware. Anton even carried a short sword at his belt.
Not one of them had a crossbow. Or a flame suppression tank with CO2 canisters and Holy Water. Nowhere had they strung up lines of garlic buds. Although garlic was ineffective, they wouldn’t know that. Nobody even looked to sport a crucifix. Or, if they did, it was hidden beneath their clothing, where it might hurt, but wouldn’t stop an approach. Interesting. Anton had contacted and used VAL to assassinate his own cousins... and he hadn’t even done his homework?
He didn’t know he was dealing with real vampires. Piece of cake.
“What are we waiting for?”
Sydney spoke again, using that low whisper of hers that carried sensual undertones that reached out and grabbed—
“Dev?”
“Uh... sorry. What did you ask?”
“Why are we sitting out here getting wetter by the moment?”
“We’re assessing potential collateral damage.”
“We are?”
“Here’s the quandary. We can leave a mass carnage scene the authorities may never decipher, or a clean, one-man hit that no one sees coming. Which do you prefer?”
“Three is mass carnage?”
“Three?”
She pointed to the house and counted aloud. “One. Two. Three. Duh.”
“Ah. I do love you, Syd. You know that?”
“D-do you ever give a straight answer?”
Her voice had stuttered just slightly. He smiled at what it might mean.
“Open your senses more, Love. You’ll see and smell and hear five more men, posted on the ground in intervals of forty yards. There’s another one staked on the roof, flat on his belly, melding to the peak. He’s facing the wrong way, which is rather amusing. You see him?”
“Oh. Wow. Yeah. I see four. Five. Yep. Got them all.”
“So. Which is it to be, Darling?”
“Kill all of them? Or just one? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you just say so in the first place? Honestly, Dev. You spend way too much time being overly-eloquent and showing off a massive vocabulary when a few words work just fine.”
“Really?”
She smiled. What light there was glistened on perfect features. She really was beautiful. And that safari-style shirt she wore was plastered to that nicely-rounded bosom of hers. Just right for—
“What did they do?”
He moved his gaze to hers and blinked. “What?”
“Yeah. What? As in... what did they do?”
“Who?”
“Who? The other guys out there. The ones we’re debating killing. You having attention deficit issues, Devereaux?”
Was he ever.
“They, uh. They—”
“Yes?”
He had to look away in order to get his own tongue to form words. She had the most mesmeric gaze and wasn’t even adept at using it yet! It was a combination of her lush lashes, her silver-hued eyes that her spectacles had previously distorted, and the way she could flash a look at him. Just him. He was worse than salt clay in her hands. He was even trembling. And this was ridiculous.
“Are we, or are we not, here to assassinate somebody?”
“We are,” he answered the night.
“And did you or did you not ask me to decide the fate of the others?”
“I did.”
“Then, why on earth are you having trouble with my request for more information?”
“Because you’re here. With me. Right there.”
“Yes, I am, Dev. Just as I have been since I woke. Or whatever we call it. Are you okay?”
He sucked in his cheeks, turned his head and got snared by her eyes again. “Okay?”
She nodded.
“I may never be okay again, Sydney Ross LLC. I—I.” He swallowed in order to make sense. “I love you. I mean... I never really considered everything that word meant until—”
“Oh. Dev.” She stopped him with a finger to his lips. And her voice sounded strange.
“If you say my name like that again, Syd, we’re going to have a hard time killing anyone... for a span, anyway.”
“Oh yeah? Well, don’t you even think of making me say it while I’m debating life and death, either.”
“Say what?”
“I just told you, don’t make me say it.”
“You love me!”
He had her lips against his, that mist-encased form of hers pressed to him, his chest heaving against her breasts, his belly slammed to hers, his thighs... oh! His thighs were against hers—
“Devereaux Castillion.”
The moment Akron spoke, Dev yanked his head back. His next move was to separate his entire form from the absolute nirvana of holding onto Sydney. The voice had been so commanding and clear he was actually surprised to find nothing more than wet jungle all around them.
“What is it?”
Her voice trembled on the words. His matched when he answered.
“Uh... incoming message. From the boss.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
She was pouting. He shouldn’t look. It made the place where his heart had reanimated hurt. He still looked. “Oh, Syd. I love you. I do. More than I believed possible. I truly look forward to demonstrating it... uh. Just as soon as we finish with the assignment. We have a deal?”
“I guess.”
“All right. So tell me. Which is it? All of them? Or just one?”
Her shoulders fell and he almost grabbed her back up. Two things stopped him. One, she’d turned back to contemplation of the bungalow, and the other was Akron’s voice as he cleared his throat. The sound came right through Devereaux’s head again.
“What did he do?”
“Who?” Akron?
“Who? That guy down there. Honestly, Dev. Do you want to get this over with or not?”
“Oh. Him. He stole money from his uncle. Used it not only to rent this lovely abode in the middle of nowhere, but he also paid to have two of his uncle’s sons assassinated.”
“No!”
“Oh yes.”
“His own cousins?”
“Yes.”
“That’s awful.”
“It’s human nature, Syd. Well... the dark side of it. When you live a bit longer you’ll see. Well? You make a decision yet?”
He was getting impatient. His voice wasn’t the only thing demonstrating it. He was starting to move from foot to foot as he waited.
“Oh. That Anton is dead meat. I want his head.”
“Fair enough. And the others?”
“What did they do?”
“Associated with the wrong man.”
“He’s paying them, though? Right?”
“Well, yeah. They’re not friends.”
“How do you know?”
“Human nature. When you’ve lived longer—”
“That again?”
“All right. You win. I read it in his file. Anton doesn’t have friends. He has employees.”
“How can we even think of killing them, then? We’d have it on our conscience for like... ever.”
; “We’re vampires, Syd. We don’t have consciences.”
“Oh yeah? Well, if I’m going to be a vampire and I’m going to be your mate, then you’re finding a conscience. Or-or-or, I don’t know. You can grow one. You got that?”
Devereaux regarded her for the count of three while every bit of him sparked. Gyrated. Effervesced. He pulled every muscle taut with the effort of holding the surge of emotion back. It was akin to being a rocket and having thousands of fuses lit. All at once. And somehow he had to avoid the explosion.
She didn’t realize what she’d said.
“You got a problem with any of that, Devereaux Castillion?” she asked.
Okay. Maybe she did know exactly what she’d said. Dev responded with a grin so wide, it should’ve torn a cheek. And then he cleared his throat in order to answer.
“Oh yeah. I got it, Love. One head coming up. Everybody else lives. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“But—”
She may have said more. He was out of range. Moving silently and with a speed that sent any drops from the leaves he touched into the airstream created by his passage. He was at the porch before the first bit of firepower started spattering the leaves he’d disturbed. By then, he’d launched right at the netting, taking it inward with his lunge, before the moorings ripped free of wood. Bullets were getting nearer as the shooter attempted to catch up with Devereaux’s movement. One housebound guard moved to lift his rifle. He got a kick to the throat, just enough to incapacitate him for a bit, not kill. The other got slammed through a wall, taking wood shards with him.
Anton’s face was a mixture of disbelief, horror, and fatalism. Dev grabbed the man’s pony-tail with his left hand, the short sword with his right, and sliced. Quick. Clean. Mercilessly. Bullets were slapping into the walls all about, showing most of the outside guards reacting. Dev jumped upward, slamming through the trusses with his shoulders. That move dislodged the roof sniper and sent debris raining down onto what was left of Anton.
The sniper fell heavily, taking one of the shrubs with him. A grunt of pain shoved from him as he landed. Dev sent a glance there. The fellow might have broken a limb, but he’d live. Bullets and shouts were riddling the porch area now, as the guards assaulted it, adding chaos to the aftermath. A wall fell. Another groan came as more of the structure joined it.
And then he was back.
With her.
“One head. As requested.”
He lifted it, and did his best to ignore where it dripped already coagulating blood down his forearm.
“They have alligators here, don’t they?”
“Crocs. The tributaries here are salt water.”
“Fine. Whatever. They’ll still eat... uh... severed heads. Yes?”
Devereux smiled. She returned it.
“Didn’t you have something to tell me?” he asked.
“Yeah. I do. But I’m not telling you I love you while standing here with a dead guy’s head. I refuse.”
There went the rocket fuses again. Devereaux jerked with holding it back. Anton’s head went flying. He didn’t even care where.
“You hear me, Mister Perfect?”
“Uh. Sydney. Love?”
He was failing. And then she was at his side, holding to him, while he wrapped his arms about her. And just stood there. Shaking.
“So. You planning to let me speak it? Or are we just going to stay here?”
“Speak?”
Damn. The word was garbled. His lips were even shaking.
“Just get a move on, Handsome. Or I will. How do we fly again?”
Devereaux didn’t bother with any explanation. He demonstrated.
-o0o-
Now or Forever
by Jackie Ivie
A Vampire Assassin League Novella
“We Kill for Profit”
14th in series
CHAPTER ONE
“What f-stop you using again, Griggins?”
“It won’t matter what f-stop, what shutter speed, or even what lens, if we don’t get set up before zero dark thirty. Get a move on. We’re being paid for shots of Ta Prohm Temple. At dusk. They specifically want atmospheric and eerie. Looks like we got both. And by-the-way, it’s Len.”
“Right. Len.”
“It’s short for Leonard.”
“Oh. Well, you better call me Stan, then.”
“I thought your name was Roger.”
“It is. Roger Stanislaw.”
“Cute. And not expected. If you don’t mind my asking, who came up with that?”
“You spend a lifetime in an eastern bloc army...you answer to what they call you.”
“Stan works.” Len smacked at his thigh. “Bastard mosquitoes. Worse than any vampire can possibly be.”
“I brought spray. 100% DEET. Here.”
Stan tossed a can. Len tossed it right back. “Keep it.”
“Why?”
“Smell. It’s like a beacon. Besides, I think the bugs out here got weaned on the stuff. I’m seeing... eight o’clock. Second tier. I suppose you brought your tripod set-up?”
“Eight o’clock. Got it. And I already told you, I never go anywhere without the tripod. Fits my new SLX with the f/4.0 lens. That way shutter speed isn’t an issue.”
“Shutter speed is not going to be a problem, Stan. We’re filming an ancient, overgrown temple, not a sports event.”
“Well. You never know. Action and movement might just happen. And I’ll be ready for it.” The man took a deep breath and coughed. “Shit. You were right about the DEET. Down and dirty.”
“Exactly. And...look. There’s another great shot at two. Eagle.”
Len watched Stan drop his duffle bag containing not only his tripod, but two long range rifles, assorted handguns, and ammo. Stan unzipped a section, got out a lens, and started scoping, supposedly for the best shot of the Ta Prohm Temple, one of the most unique temples in the Angkor Wat complex. And then a light rain began to fall, just to make things interesting.
Angkor Wat. Cambodia. Fantastic place. According to the pamphlets, it was built in the twelfth century. Looked it. Supposedly the entire place was a map in stone of the mythological Hindu cosmos. It was meant as a heaven on earth, featuring corridors that ran for a half mile, every bit of them carved with deities from the Ramayana stories. Someone also said that interpreting the carvings and praying to the gods created an elixir of immortality.
Hmm. All that work and everybody still died. Len shrugged. The builders of Angkor Wat had it wrong. They should have worked for the Vampire Assassin League. Immortality wasn’t an issue. It was in his future...when he was ready. And he got to visit unbelievably cool places. Like this one.
Len had done a bit of brushing up on the place during the flight and hotel stay. It helped temper the droning voice of the audio course on Khmer language basics. He probably should’ve paid more attention. Then again, maybe he’d be lucky and everybody he’d run into would speak English. Of course, he could always talk to Stan, over there. But talking to Stan was exactly what it amounted to. Talk. And it was Len doing the talking. Stan was a closed book. No history. No interests. No life. This little camera jargon was the closest the guy came to small talk. That was the first he’d heard of the guy’s stint in an army.
Maybe he was as good as Akron said.
The pictures and video feed of Angkor Wat didn’t do it justice, either. The entire acreage exuded a mysterious quality, not just the Ta Prohm Temple, although it was the most picturesque. It was almost sacrilege to have the place overrun by Hunters. One was even perched atop the platform at the east gate. The one used by King Suryavarman II and his heirs. That platform was built so a rider could mount his elephant right from the stone. That was a wasted vigil but it told Len what he needed to know. The vampire’s lair wasn’t there. And they hadn’t found it yet.
He and Stan were on assignment, all right. But it wasn’t to shoot photos. This came from the big guy, himself: Akron. It involved protecting one ancient va
mpire with a badass complex, from a shitload of Hunters. That’s what happened when said vampire drained the blood from a supposedly well-known German archeologist intent on this place...along with three of his team members. And since they were at a world heritage protected site, a 4D Team was the last option.
Len hadn’t been given much information on this vampire, but he’d turned the page, unread, anyway. He’d get back to it after he learned the language – which was never. He’d rather meet a new vampire cold. Make up his own mind. Besides, a vampire was a vampire. Most of them arrogant as shit, bull-headed as hell, and completely immune to Len’s charm, or even his cute phrasing.
So. Akron had called. He wanted this done with real humans. And here, Len was beginning to think Akron had shelved him, what with an extended vacation at Bora Bora, followed by weeks of tedium that Len called a life. It felt good to get back into the ring. He was also overseeing the new recruit, Stanislaw over there. Len watched the guy spin his lens, focusing on the roof containing one high perched Hunter. Stan was dressed in nondescript khaki slacks, an almost-matching shade of shirt and jacket, and a baseball cap. It was getting plastered to him with the rain. Len was a match, although his attire was black, and he’d foregone a hat. He was having the same issue with the heat and humidity. Everything stuck. Defined. He hadn’t wasted any of his off time on his butt. He’d been at the gym every day. He’d had to move up a t-shirt size because of it. Not Stan. Len hoped Stan had more to him than it looked. The guy was thin. Wiry. Hungry-looking. Then again, Len hadn’t much knowledge of eastern bloc army life.
Back to the job at hand. The Hunters. They were absolute bastards. Zero compassion. And zero integrity. Len had learned that from his recent stint in Texas. He wasn’t interested in a replay of being in their hands. Wait a minute...
