An Angel Among Vampires

by M. Cheykota

  I jump up and put my back up against the wall. A dagger from my boot is already in my hand, ready to strike.

  “Relax ma chatte petite. It is only a snack before dinner.” He says reassuringly. I watch Christien stroll towards the group now lined up in front of the fireplace.

  They all smell human so I relax a little, easing the dagger back into my boot. A woman with short, strawberry blonde hair kneels in front of Christien. He watches me as she glides her hands up his thighs towards his waist. That was the last thing I could remember.

  One minute I was standing there watching her touch Christien, the next moment I am standing over the red ruin of her body saturated in her blood with both of my daggers bloody from hilt to tip in my hands.

  Christien is talking to me, but I cannot hear anything past the roaring in my head. I shake my head, trying to clear it enough to hear what Christien is saying.

  “What?” I ask, hoping he repeats himself. Finally, sound returns dull enough that I can hear crying and hushes coming from a group of humans huddling in the corner. “What did you say?”

  “I said I apologize for my behavior. I was merely curious in what your reaction would be. I had no idea you would react so… jealously.” He motions what was once a woman on the ground in front of me.

  I look down at what is left of her and see only raw, lumpy flesh and blood. I drop my daggers. They fall to the marble floor with a loud clank. I look down at myself and notice I am covered head to toe in blood.

  I did not just kill the woman. There is no way I would have this much blood on me if it was quick. I must have sliced her to bits and pieces, slashing at her with my daggers repeatedly until I reached muscle and bone.

  I look back over at the clumps of flesh on the ground around her body and lose everything in my stomach right there. I continue to gag long after my stomach is empty. Christien is holding me and keeping my bloody hair from slapping against my face as I dry heave.

  He picks me up and carries me through a door into a bathroom with the largest shower I have ever seen, capable of allowing at least four people to shower together simultaneously. He turns on the shower, testing the temperature then stands me up in front of him. He gently removes my ruined jersey dress and lets it fall to the shower stall floor. I step out of my boots while resting my arms on his shoulders.

  Tears fall endlessly down my face as I picture the woman lying there dead in a pool of blood and remains. The hot water runs down my body, washing away the blood, causing the floor to turn into a sea of red, not the pink I normally see when I wash blood off my body. He undresses himself before removing my bra and panties. I just stand there and let the water try to wash away the shame and remorse I am feeling. He lathers a washcloth with a sweet smelling soap and washes my body thoroughly. Removing pieces of flesh and gore from my hair first, he lathers my hair several times with shampoo, making sure all traces of what happened in the other room are gone from my body. When he is finally satisfied that I am clean, he turns off the water and wraps a thick, warm terry cloth robe around me. He grabs a thick towel and dries my hair. My tears have finally stopped.

  “What have you done to me?” I ask him softly.

  Instead of answering, he guides me through another door that I did not notice when he first brought me into the bathroom. We enter a very large master bedroom with a king sized four-poster bed with a canopy dominating the middle of the room. He pushes aside the sheer and elegant draping surrounding it and sits me on the edge of the bed.

  I stare at the floor and whisper my apology. “I’m sorry for killing your woman.”

  Christien stops in front of me, lifts my chin until our eyes meet. “There is nothing to forgive, ma chatte petite.”

  “I killed that woman, Christien! I don’t even know who she was!”

  “She does not matter anymore. She was alone, no family. No one will be looking for her. I have already taken care of it so do not think another thought about her.” He says while smoothing my hair down.

  “How did you know her then?” I ask with a hint of jealousy in my tone.

  “You no longer need to feel jealous, chatte. She is gone now. You have made sure of that.” He says sharply.

  Feeling the guilt of my actions and even more jealousy, I rise from the bed and look around the room for my belongings. I push past him as I see my purse. Finding everything inside, including my daggers now clean, I move towards the door.

  Christien watches me as I move around the room. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting my stuff and leaving!” I snap back.

  “Why? You are welcome to stay here ma chatte. There is no reason for you to leave.”

  “I shouldn’t have come here. I knew I was asking for trouble, knowing the way I lose myself around you.” I mumble quietly while pulling on my wet boots.

  Damn! Another ruined pair of shoes! A woman can’t keep a decent pair of shoes around this vampire.

  Finally wiggling my feet into the wet boots, I stand and start towards the bedroom door. Christien is there before I reach for the handle.

  I fold my arms in front of my chest. “Move Christien.”

  “I have upset you. Again, I apologize. Please do not leave. We should talk.”

  I roll my eyes. “Enough talk, more action. Move!” I demand, giving him a threatening look. “I have a job to do and I want to go home. Thank you for taking care of me and I am sorry I killed your girlfriend. We’re even now, so please move or I’ll move you.”

  “You can try.” He states as he leans against the door.

  “Are you sure you want it to go this way? If you let me leave, there is a possibility to talk later. If you try to keep me here against my will, regardless of the way I may be feeling, I will end it here.” I threaten, letting him see the seriousness in my eyes.

  He studies me for a moment. “I am sorry Jessica. I cannot allow you to leave.”

  Anger and hurt flow through my body but I push them aside. I take a deep breath. “So be it.”

  “Wait!” Christien says right before my fist makes contact with his jaw.

  I can feel his bones break under my hand. I sweep his feet from underneath him. His back slams into the door as he loses his footing. I wrap the leather strap from my purse around his wrist tightly then flip him over face down on the ground. I can hear the muffled tones coming from his broken jaw as he tries to speak. I ignore him and pull his arm behind his back, breaking it. I hear a grunt. I slam my knees into the back of each of his thighs, breaking them. I grab his neck and snap it back before dragging his broken body from the door. I take one last glance at him lying helplessly on the floor before I bolt from the room and run downstairs using vampire speed.

  I see my keys lying in a bowl near the door. I swipe them and rush outside. I run around the car once sniffing and looking for explosives before I hop in and gun it down the drive. The gate barely opens wide enough for my car before I am through it and flying down the street at a break-neck speed. After a couple of miles, I ease up a little on the gas and head home.

  Again, stupid, stupid, stupid. When will I ever learn?

  I let my tears wash away my pain, anger and hurt. By the time I make it home, I am cool, calm and empty inside.

  Chapter 23

  Determined more than ever not to make a fool of myself again, I park my car in the garage, check the house and go inside to check my voice mail messages. I am putting two bags of blood in the microwave when I hear the familiar, sharp Italian accent of my best friend, Roman, on the phone:

  Hey Jess,

  I just called to check in with you. I have not heard from you all week and I am getting a little worried. I hope you have not gone and got yourself in trouble again. I will be back tomorrow so if I do not hear from you by then, I am coming to find you. See you tomorrow. Ciao.

  I listen to the message twice, taking comfort in his voice. I want to call him and tell him what is going on, but I don’t have time. I have less than an hour to get dressed and g
et down to the restaurant before my target arrives. I delete his message and run upstairs to change.

  In the bathroom, I check myself out in the mirror and see Christien’s blood sprinkled on my face and on the white terry cloth robe.

  I check the time again. 7:15 pm. I take a fast shower, get out and towel dry my hair the best I can before slipping into a black Donna Karan dress with strappy 4 inch Jimmy Choo shoes.

  I grab the black Coach purse with my weapons. Removing the shackles and replacing the shackles with the syringes that I filled with the shellfish sauce earlier, I make it out the door by 7:30pm.

  Traffic around the restaurant is heavy so I park a couple of blocks away. At ten until 8, I see my target entering the restaurant from a limo with three other women. As I walk past the large window in front of the restaurant, I watch the women sit down at a table. I continue past the window and walk to the back of the restaurant.

  The back door is open and I hear dishes clanking. Two men are standing outside the back door smoking and chatting. I try extending my aura around myself as I had seen Christien do before so they are not able to see me, but it doesn’t work. I end up using mind control on them instead convincing them to forget they saw me.

  I slip inside the kitchen, hiding myself by ducking behind counters and large shelving. I see my target’s waiter come up to the window pass to place an order. I search his mind to find the table number of the four women before he walks back into the dining area.

  My target and her guests are sitting at table 14. I wait in the shadows until the cook begins preparing their meal. Unable to determine which meal belongs to whom, I wait until the cook turns his back and squirt all four dishes thoroughly with the shellfish sauce. I have the cook ignore the funny taste of the sauce and serve the meal anyway before making my way to the dining room.

  The dining room is full of people enjoying their meals. I find an empty seat at a table, dirty with dishes from someone’s evening meal, to watch their waiter bring their food to their table.

  I enter her guests’ minds and command them not to taste their food until their host has done so first. With their food waiting in front of them, her three guests chat while she begins eating.

  After my target takes several bites of her food, I enter her mind and have her excuse herself from the table to use the restroom, leaving her purse, with the epinephrine pen, behind. I follow her into the restroom, carefully keeping control of her mind so she won’t feel any of her allergic reactions until we are alone.

  The last patron leaves the restroom and I allow my hold on her mind to slip a little, speeding up the affects of her allergic reaction. The woman begins to gasp, reacting to the shellfish sauce cutting off her airway.

  Now that her medicine is unavailable, all I need to do is prevent anyone from discovering her early enough to be saved. I have her sit in a stall, commanding her to sit as if she is using the restroom, and then lock herself inside. I am careful not to touch her or anything in the room without using a paper towel since I am not wearing any gloves. When I hear her gasps cease, I wait an additional several minutes for her heart to stop.

  Patrons that want to use the restroom I send back to their seats, thinking the restroom is unavailable. To keep her guests from coming to look for her, I peek my head out of the restroom every couple of minutes, commanding them to eat their food and to implant the suggestion that she hasn’t been gone very long.

  When I can no longer hear her heartbeat and I am sure she is truly dead, I leave the restaurant going straight towards my car.

  The visual from Christien’s house of the strawberry blonde woman reduced to meat and blood, swims in front of me. I close my eyes, trying to chase the image away.

  Even if someone finds the woman now and manages to call an ambulance right away, it is already too late. I deprived her brain of oxygen for too long. There is no way they could save her. I made sure of that.

  Sick to my stomach and a migraine coming on, I walk back to my car on unsteady feet and drive back home.

  I return home but I feel as if someone is watching me. I draw my gun from my purse and sprint to my door. As I unlock the first two locks in a hurry, someone or something swings me around and pushes me against the door. I am expecting to see Christien, but I am surprised to be staring at Roman.

  “Jess, what’s wrong?” Roman calls out to me.

  “You scared the hell out of me!” I scream at him, hitting him on his arm.

  “If you checked your messages, you would have been expecting me.” He says playfully.

  “You also said you weren’t going to be in until tomorrow.” I remind him while unlocking the last lock on my door.

  I open the door and move back to let him in.

  Roman is almost as paranoid as I am so he sniffs and listens for any intruders before going inside. After I shut and lock the door, we make our way to the couch. Roman sits down, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

  I watch my darkly tanned, 6’3”, athletically built, best friend stretch his long legs out in front of him. His dark brown hair is loose, brushing the tops of his shoulders and light brown eyes sparkle in amusement as he watches me stare at him.

  Now that he is comfortable, I grab a throw pillow off the couch and toss it onto his lap. I rest my head on the pillow and he automatically runs his fingers through my hair in a soothing manner.

  I sigh and begin to relax.

  Roman breaks the silence after a couple of minutes. “Okay Jess, I’ve given you enough time. Now spill.”

  We lay there talking about my last few days. I talk about my encounters with Christien, my clients, the jobs, and the marks.

  The entire time I am talking, Roman is playing with my hair, staring down at me, giving me his full, undivided attention.

  That is why I love Roman and why he is my best friend. He knows when something is bothering me and knows just what to say to get me to start talking. He is the greatest man I know. He is gentle, caring, friendly, and protective. He is also a dead accurate shooter and a trustworthy person to have your back.

  Roman is half-lycan or werewolf and half-human. Roman’s father is a lycan from Italy. His mother was traveling through Europe and was taking a stroll through a park on a full moon night. His father was in a sex craze, as most Weres are during the full moon, and ended up raping his mother. His father has since then, apologized for raping Roman’s mother, but I do not think Roman really has ever truly forgiven him. His mother raised him alone, but once he hit puberty and started showing signs of turning furry, his mother contacted his father and sent Roman to Italy until he could control his beast. Roman was only 17 at the time and was still in Italy with his father when he received the news that his mother died in a car accident.

  Losing his mother really messed him up. Soon after his mother’s death, Roman started hanging around with a dangerous crowd. By the time Roman was 19, he was an enforcer for the Sicilian mafia. He also started doing contract killings around the same time. When a turf war broke out and another cartel took over, Roman stopped dealing with the mafia and started contract killing full time. That is how he and I met.

  We were both in Tempe, Arizona on a job when we crossed paths. He had a contract for a man that stole money from a bookie and was on the run. I had a contract to beat up some schmuck that wouldn’t pay his debts. Both of our marks went into one of those off-track betting bars.

  I noticed Roman sitting in a tree checking out some men in the parking lot. I snuck up behind him. He apparently smelled me coming and as he turned around, I yelled ‘boo.’ He fell out of the tree and broke his arm. I remember laughing so hard at the look on his face while he was lying there on the ground before I lost my footing and fell down right beside him. We both cracked up laughing for at least five minutes before introducing ourselves. We have been friends ever since.

  We were not as close as we are now until he moved to Arizona. He knew I was living here in Phoenix and wanted some recommendations on a good area to liv
e. He got a place nearby me. We thought about being roommates for a while, but we both love our privacy too much.

  After I finish telling him my story of recent events, Roman does not say anything for a couple of minutes. When I am about to demand he say something, he grabs another throw pillow off the couch and starts hitting me in the head with it.

  He only gets a few lucky licks in before I start blocking the pillow with my arm. “I’m gone for two weeks and you completely lose your mind! What were you thinking Jess?”

  Uncertain of which of the million mistakes he’s referring to, I sit up on the couch and stare at the floor, unable to say anything.

  “You are not getting away with this mess that easily. I’m not going to let you sit here and say nothing.”

  “What do you want me to say Rome? Yeah, okay, I screwed up! Big time and it may cost me my life. I know!” I yell at him and lean back against the couch, covering my face with a pillow.

  “Look, I know you understand the gravity of the situation. I can’t believe you fed your blood to a vampire you barely met a few days ago and have a contract out on. Let alone go falling in love with him.” He says as he gets up and paces the living room.

  I raise my chin stubbornly. “I am NOT in love with him Rome.”

  He gives me a disbelieving look. “Yeah right.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Then why didn’t you kill him when he said you couldn’t leave?” He asks, infuriated.

  I look up at Roman. I am about to say something to defend myself when I pause and frown.

  Why didn’t I kill him? I had my weapons on me. My purse was in my hand and I did not even think about pulling any weapons on him. Even when Christien’s body was laying there defenseless, I just moved it out of the way and left.