by Kiki Howell
Tristan stood for a moment, running it through his head. A blood-swear was a legitimate and formal agreement. It would mean The Three would officially retire him, and he would finally be free from all this. All he had to do was what he was good at, fighting and protecting. Seemed pretty fair, for a change.
Slowly, Tristan walked up to the stairs, stood before them, and extended his hand. "We have terms. I accept this final job based on the agreement that I will be released from service to The Three and any duties pertaining to your order."
Constance took the long, pearl dropped pin, and handed it to Javen. "So be it."
Javen pierced his hand with the pin. "So be it." He then handed it to Drago, who also pierced his hand. Drago nodded. "So be it."
Tristan took his stiletto from its sheath and punctured the center of his right palm, watching the blood trickle down onto the stone in little starburst droplets. He shook Constance's hand, then Drago's, then finally clasped hands with Javen, who smiled exposing his fangs.
"So be it."
Tristan released his hand and watched as his wound slowly began to heal. "I'll be ready to chaperone Ivana to her destination. You can count on me she'll be safe."
Javen nodded. "Of that, I have no doubt, Commander."
Tristan stood there and couldn't help but wonder if shaking hands with The Three was akin to shaking hands with the devil. Heaven help them if they reneged on their agreement.
.
Chapter Three: One Last Mission
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, Halloween, approached under a blood moon. It had everyone up in arms, and The Three pleaded with Ivana to change her mind.
But the call soon came to Tristan that she was going to still meet, so he arrived at the Great Hall early to talk to a couple of other night fighters who would join him in escorting Ivana. He liked to ride close to the person he was protecting, but needed eyes out to see trouble before it ran into them.
The first Supes meeting that Ivana was scheduled to attend was going to be on the edge of town, and Tristan needed to organize the motorcade. No one knew the route they were taking except Tristan and the driver. The less people who knew where Ivana was going, the better. If Were-shifters and others were threatening her life, they may try to strike whenever she was out of The Three's watchful eyes.
He liked to hand pick his crew, and the two other night fighters that met his tough criteria were Christophe and Dashiell. They were tough and didn't have an ego to stroke. Especially Dashiell, who trained under Tristan. He was a fast learner and often complained about the ridiculous missions he had to take for The Three.
Tristan worked with Christophe many years ago when Tristan first turned, but from what he remembered, the old Jesuit priest turned vampire was a force to be reckoned with. Christophe professed himself to be quiet and timid in his human life, holding strong to his faith. A lot must've changed the old vampire, because he didn't believe in much these days except that the world had only two beings: the strong and the weak.
And heaven help you if you were weak.
Tristan waited by the outside stone steps which led to the armored limousine, calmly checking his watch for the time. He pressed his earpiece. "Okay you two, state your positions."
A voice with a thick German accent broke the silence first. "Christophe here. I'm taking the west flank. Eye in the sky."
"Acknowledged," Tristan replied. He never looked for his partners because it was bad form to inadvertently give away their positions. If bad Supes were watching, he didn't want to give them any free intel. "Okay, how bout you, Dashiell?"
A cough rumbled through the earpiece. "East flank. Down n' dirty, Commander. Do we know who we're watching out for? Were-shifters? Witches? Demons?"
Tristan shook his head. "We don't know. Anonymous threats have been made, so just keep an eye out for anything suspicious from any Supes, alright?"
"Shit, Tristan. The Three has us out here looking for a needle in a haystack. You know that, right?" Dashiell said with an annoyed groan. "They would have us adios a drunken coed in a costume to save their little Ivana. This is bullshit, dude."
Tristan sighed. "I know. It's shitty, but it is what it is fellas. Keep your eye out. There could be Green Girls out and about, shifters, and who knows what else. And watch the Green Girls!" He warned. "Don't get too close."
"Gotcha. Some of those bitches have white light," Dashiell replied. "Greg, that poor bastard."
"Well, he's no longer suffering." Christophe said, standing on a nearby rooftop looking at the moon. "This is a bad night, Tristan."
"Don't' tell me superstitions got you too, Christophe?" Dashiell asked over the earpiece. "You guys fuck me up. It's a great reminder why I'm not either of you guys’ partner."
"Why? Afraid you'll learn something?" Christophe asked.
"No, afraid I'll be another notch on Tristan's partner belt!" Dashiell started to laugh. "What number of partner was Greg, Tristan? Number four?"
"No, no, I think that one was number six, ja?" Christophe interjected.
Tristan groaned. "He was number three, assholes."
His earpiece communication exploded in laughter from both Christophe and Dashiell.
Tristan shook his head. I don't know why I bother. "Oh, both of you can go fuck yourselves. It's not my fault they can't listen."
Dashiell tried to sober, laughter still laced on his words. "You should spread them out over the centuries, Tristan. Have some patience, man. If you didn't want to split your commission, just say so."
The large door to the mansion began to open, and Ivana, dressed in a long black lace gown, proceeded down the steps with Javen holding an umbrella over her.
Tristan felt saved by her arrival, signaling it was game time.
"Alright guys, shut up. The precious cargo's here. Everyone keep your position," Tristan commanded over his earpiece. "When we head out, keep your flanked positions until we've gotten out of town. I hope you guys fed, cause I need hyperspeed tonight, gentlemen. Fade if you have to, but keep up. Only me and the driver know the route."
"Affirmative," Christophe replied.
"Ditto," Dashiell replied, popping bubble gum.
"For the love of all that's holy, Dashiell, please maintain radio silence," Tristan warned, at the same time giving Ivana a friendly nod as she approached him.
As always, she was all smiles, staring at the Commander. His dark hair was wet from the constant mist of rain encroaching on the Halloween night. His black coat outlined his tall, lean figure that was terribly masculine.
It was moments like this, admiring Tristan's handsome existence, Ivana wished they had met in another time, another life perhaps, before she was taken by Javen and made his. Tristan seemed so isolated and apathetic lately, and she wished someone could make him care about something again. In another life, she wished that someone were her.
"Hello again, Commander," Ivana greeted with hooded, smoky eyes. Her ivory face was a strict contrast against her dark clothing.
"Hello, Ivana," he politely replied. He turned to acknowledge Javen with a nod. "Javen."
Javen smiled. "Commander, I can't begin to express my gratitude for this service." He turned Ivana's face towards him and her smile faded. "You be safe, my love." He gave her a kiss on the lips that wanted to be more, but Ivana pulled back. Clearing her throat, she gave a forced smile that faded again as soon as she spoke.
"Thank you, Javen. I'll see you soon to report the news on how everything went." She took the umbrella from him and continued to walk past Tristan, where he opened the limo door for her to get in. She scooted to the other end and sat quietly, looking out the window.
Tristan nodded at Javen. "I'll report to you once we get to the destination."
"Thank you, Tristan. I know she's in good hands with you."
Tristan got into the limousine, closing the door behind him. Finally, in the safety of the car, Tristan opened his coat and pulled out his route plan. He passed it to the driver.
"Here, pl
ug that code into your GPS and it will load our route plan to this meeting. Do not deviate from it under any circumstances. Understand?"
The driver reached back and took the slip of paper. "You got it, sir."
Ivana kept quiet as they began to pull out of the semi-circle driveway and to their destination.
Tristan looked to her and saw her emotional face. He wanted to ignore it, because who knows what kind of drama he was threatening to unleash by inquiring,but he did want to know why she had clammed up the other day. It was like the issue with the witches had been news to her.
"You're gonna be fine, Ivana. They just want to make sure you get there safe. You won't even know I'm around."
She scoffed. Tristan couldn't be ignored even if he tried. The vampire had an intimidating presence.
"That's not what I'm concerned about." She stayed facing the window. Her fingers traced at the misty raindrops on the car window, trying to distract herself.
"Then what is it?" Tristan asked. "Does it have anything to do with your silence the other day and the cold shoulder you just gave Javen?"
"You're very observant, Commander." Ivana responded softly. She didn't know what to do, and who to trust, but she knew something was strange with Javen. Their fight last night had proved it. "Javen is hiding something from me," she added.
"Like what?"
Tristan wondered if the secret was his last mission of getting a grimoire from a Green Girl. He never discussed his missions with anyone except The Three, who commissioned him. That was a rule he almost broke the other night when he saw her, and he wasn't trying to make the same mistake twice. If she brought it up, he would simply deny it.
Ivana turned to look at him, her bright eyes watery. "I wish I knew, but it isn't good. There's too many missions going on. Things that are affecting my conversations with the other Supes. I feel like I'm fighting an uphill battle."
She wanted to believe she was making some sort of difference, but it seemed Javen didn't care as much for her ideals. As if his needs came first like a spoiled little boy.
"Why didn't you tell me about the death threats, Ivana?"
Tristan looked at her scornfully, his eyes searching hers. There was something she wasn't telling him. He could see it in her eyes. She wanted to, though. Just like she did the other night when meeting The Three. He didn't know what to do to get her to trust him, but then again, why would she? He was hiding something from her as well.
Ivana frowned. "It wasn't a big deal. It's not like I have tons of threats, Tristan. Javen and the others are just making a big issue out of this. I was making progress."
Tristan shook his head at her naivety. "Any amount of death threats is cause for concern. You know Javen would lose his shit if anything happened to you. If the other Supes planned to hurt him by hurting you, all hell would break loose."
Ivana gave him a pitiful attempt at a smile. "It's not the other Supes I'm worried about."
Tristan turned to face her again with concern at her statement. "What do you mean?"
Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes, surging both their bodies forward.
Tristan frowned. "What the hell is going on?"
"Sorry, freaking asshole in a damn Hummer blocking us up! Move, you fucker!" The driver continued to honk as other costumed pedestrians walked by. The crowd was making it difficult to move around.
Tristan's eyes trained on the Hummer and he froze as he saw all the doors open. "Shit! Get down!" He covered Ivana, pushing her down to the floorboard, as masked assassins jumped out the Hummer and started spraying their limousine with gun fire.
Ivana screamed as silver bullets zipped and ripped through the car. Screeching at the sound of metal bouncing off metal as rounds ricochet off the car. Shielding her face, she looked up to witness the driver's seat riveted with holes and his body still and limp. Blood seeped through the punctured leather. She closed her eyes shut as cushion debris fell on her.
"I thought we were safe in this armored limo? What's happening?!" Ivana asked, yelling in tears.
Tristan winced as a bullet grazed his hip, feeling the intense burn as the hot silver passed through. They were using armor piercing rounds, most likely from a significantly large caliber as the bullets’ hits sounded and felt like elephants kicking the car.
This told him the assassins were well prepared, and he had to get Ivana out of there. Fast.
He turned on his earpiece, hoping to hear from either Christophe or Dashiell. "Dashiell? Christophe? We're getting heat from all sides here and we're ambushed! State your position! I need you guys to cover us as Ivana and I are trapped in the limo." A moment passed, and all he heard was static. "Christophe?! Dashiell?! Report your position!
Nothing.
Tristan yelled. "Acknowledge!"
Nothing still. Just static.
They were on their own. "Shit," Tristan hissed.
He met Ivana's worried eyes. Her mouth was slightly open, exposing her fangs. She was beginning to panic, but now he really needed her to focus if he had a chance to get her out safe.
"Ivana, listen to me, okay? Are you listening to me?"
She quickly nodded. "Yes!"
In a heated rush, he began instructing her on what to do if she had any chance of getting out of this alive. The car wasn’t going to provide cover for them for much longer.
"We can’t stay here or we're going to die, but they gotta reload. That’s when we'll move. Either they’ll try to get the doors open to take you or wait us out. Neither are acceptable. I gotta get in a position to see who I'm fighting, but when I do, I'll start shooting. Okay?"
She violently nodded again, clutching his coat as she hunkered down to the floorboard.
Tristan lifted her chin so she could face him and meet his eyes to make sure she understood.
"When I start shooting, I need you to run out of here as fast as you can to that church. Fade if you can, but do not stop. Make it inside, and I'll cover you, then follow," Tristan rapidly dictated.
"Okay." Ivana swallowed. She took deeper breaths to try to calm herself as Tristan began to move away from her. She felt the lack of his close presence exposed her and left her open to attack.
Tristan stopped when a pull on his coat alerted him to the fact that Ivana still gripped it. He gently put his hand on hers and pushed it away.
"We're going to be alright, Ivana. Just remember what I said."
Tristan pulled the seat back to the escape hatch in the trunk and checked both his Desert Eagle pistols in his holsters. He wasn't sure what they would be up against, so he made sure he had at least 2 other clips of silver bullet blessed rounds. Double impact to kill most of the type of Supes willing to attack, including Were-shifters and naughty little Green Girls.
When the sound of shots firing slowed, he pushed up close against the trunk, looking through the space between the tail lights to see three masked assassins in full tactical gear, standing in front of another black Hummer.
Christophe and Dashiell were nowhere in sight, dead or alive. He examined the scene and realized the mystery kill squad pulled a death trap on them, blocking the motorcade in the front and the back so they were ambushed. They probably thought after breaking down the motorcade, it'd be easy pickings.
Tristan had news for them. This wasn't going down without a fight. He huffed a breath, then cracked the lock on the trunk.
"Go!" he yelled at Ivana.
As the trunk lifted, Tristan began unloading fire at the masked shooters, hitting two of them while the other ducked behind a vehicle. The barrage of bullets continued as Tristan turned and leaped on top of the car, firing shots at the gang of masked assassins in front of the limousine, returning fire.
He watched as Ivana opened her car door and sprinted towards the church as he told her while Tristan continued to lay down cover fire, taking care not to strike any scared humans as they ran out of the way.
On the roof of the limousine, he took full advantage of the 360 degree view, and the dis
tance from their assailants from his location gave him the advantage to hear the hum of each bullet coming his way before they could reach him. This allowed him to dodge and maneuver in a way that any less experienced vamp would be incapable of. From there, he was able to pick off a few assassins who ducked behind cars and one who was trying to catch up to Ivana.
When two assassins in front of the limousine stopped to reload, he slid down the front of the limo and grappled one until he connected several jabs to the face. He pinned the assassin down and brutally snapped his neck. The other shooter popped off a round that hit Tristan's right shoulder. The force of the caliber, pushed him to the ground. Seeing him momentarily subdued, the shooter waved at another on a motorcycle.
"Get the girl! Get the girl!" a muffled, male voice yelled as two riders took off towards Ivana. She ran with superhuman speed to the doors, but they wouldn't open. Desperate, she ripped the giant door opened, breaking the locks, and ran inside.
Crying, she pushed a Virgin Mary statue against the door and backed up, praying it would hold and Tristan would come to help her. She grabbed the flag pole by the door and broke it across her knee in three places, selecting the middle piece as a weapon. Ivana gripped it tightly, watching the wood and steel of the large church doors began to splinter.
Tristan flipped up his back to his feet, but staggered a moment from the silver eating into his flesh. He came up behind the distracted shooter, but the element of surprise was broken as the masked assassin turned around and aimed his gun at Tristan's head.
"Say goodnight, vamp." The muffled voice demanded.
"Goodnight." Tristan said with a shrug as his silver, stiletto blade quickly sliced into the assassin's heart.
With a grunt, the assassin dropped to the pavement like a pile of bricks. Dodging gunfire from all angles, he kept moving towards the church, seeing two assassins running up the church steps. Tristan leaned against the hummer and dropped his empty clips, loading a fresh magazine in each of his .44 caliber pistols.
