by Trisha Telep
Hence the SOB ID card in my pocket. It was official and I was about to make my first kill.
The kill.
While I had my card and I’d already filled out the paperwork for health and dental and even the 401(k), I was still on probation. My future as an SOB depended solely on tonight. Now.
Shit.
I inched my way through the mass of people until I reached the spot where I’d last seen Uncle Jimmy. He was gone and so were the two women he’d been chatting up.
Two human women, to be more exact, with strong ties to the vampire community, or so we suspected. One of them was rumoured to be a blood slave to an entourage of made vampires based in Soho. Jimmy’s objective was to confirm the information and find out if any of the vampires she serviced were here tonight.
With a specific target identified. I would step in, do my thing and prove myself.
If I could find Uncle Jimmy.
After 20 minutes of looking, I finally spotted him near the far edge of the dance floor. Uncle Jimmy was talking to a different trio of women. One of the women whispered something, he smiled and my stomach somersaulted.
Bingo.
“Right behind you,” he murmured as he came up to me. “The couple near the exit door.” I started to whip around and he warned, “Slowly. We don’t want to alert him that we’re on to him.
I drew a deep breath to slow my frantic heartbeat and did a casual turn and look-see. My gaze swept past several clusters of people until I reached a man and woman. I stalled for a few extra heartbeats, drinking in the scene as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.
His hair was dark and spiky. He wore black slacks, a fitted black silk button-up and a hungry look. I could see the predatory light in his gaze as he stared down at the lush blonde on his arm.
She stared up at him, transfixed.
“Him,” Jimmy confirmed my thoughts. “Get in, stake him right in the heart and walk away. Easy.”
For a man with bulls-eye aim.
“You can do this,” he added, clapping a strong hand on my shoulder and giving me a reassuring squeeze. “You’re a Blue.”
Lucky me.
I squelched the traitorous thought.
I was lucky. I had the prestigious job of saving the human race, for Pete’s sake. Unfortunately, I also had the prestigious job of family wuss. I was the kid who’d brought home every stray animal and cried when my first-grade teacher read Old Yeller. I got freaked when I saw a spider, and I always closed my eyes during scary movies. And while I knew my intended target had probably bitten thousands of people the world over and left plenty of them to bleed out and die, I hadn’t seen him do any of it first-hand.
Other than staring lustfully at the woman next to him, he wasn’t even doing anything now. No murder or mayhem.
Yet I was supposed to kill him anyway.
“Go,” Uncle Jimmy told me, shoving me forwards before I could blurt out any of the objections that rushed through my head.
But none of them mattered. I had to do this. I’d sucked at everything in my life – from school to relationships to painting.
But not this.
This was my calling, just like every other Blue before me. The one thing I was going to be good at.
If I ever managed to perfect my aim, that is.
I forced the doubts aside and tried to concentrate on the positive aspects of the situation. Sure, it was crowded, but at least my target was a vampire and nor a Were. I didn’t have to fire off a round of bullets. All I had to do was walk over to Hot and Hungry and stab him directly in the heart and – this was the biggie – not toss my cookies while I was doing it.
Done.
I put one foot in front of the other and started to move. A few steps shy, I eased my hand beneath my jacket. My fingers closed around the stake. I inched the sharp wood from my waistband slowly. Almost there. Almost there. Almost –
His gaze shifted, pinning me in place when I was just two steps away from reaching him.
Crazy right? I had my Ray-Bans firmly in place. He couldn’t read my mind or seduce me or influence me in any way. I was totally immune to the lust in his dark-brown eyes with their whisky-gold flecks, as well as to the whole sex vibe that he was giving off.
Mostly.
It’s just that while I’d sworn off relationships, I hadn’t meant to say adios to sex as well. I missed it. I liked it. I wanted it.
“Do you want something?” His deep voice slid into my ears and echoed my thoughts.
Uh-oh.
“I . . .” OK, where was my voice when I really needed it? Wait a second. I didn’t need my voice. I just needed my stake. Yeah, the stake.
Don’t talk. Don’t lust. Just do it.
My fingers closed around the wood again and my heart stalled.
He let go of the blonde on his arm and she faded into the shadows, dazed and confused thanks to his vampiric charm. It was just the two of us in that darkened corner now.
Just the two of us. The loud, pulsing music. The lust.
I ignored the crazy thought and slid the stake free. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and I felt Uncle Jimmy’s eyes on me. He was watching. Waiting. Ready to report back so that my future could be decided by the higher-ups. Would I succeed this time or fail like all the other times?
Everything shifted into fast-forwards then. One minute I was aiming at his heart and the next I was pinned up against the wall, his hard body pressed into mine.
“I’m too old for a first-timer,” he told me.
“This isn’t my first time,” I heard myself blurt. Wait a second – SOB rule number one – no talking to the target.
Aim and fire.
Impossible with my arms pinned on either side of my head, the stake dangling in one hand.
I tried to glance around for help. Surely someone could see? Uncle Jimmy? One of the monster bouncers I’d passed on my way in? At the same time, the place was much too crowded. If I couldn’t see them, then they probably couldn’t see me. And with the vamp blocking my view, pressing against me and pinning me to the wall, we looked like any number of couples making out in the far corners of the club.
He tightened his grip on my wrist and my fingers went limp. The stake fell to the floor and he leaned into me even more. “You’re a virgin, all right.” He grinned, his teeth a dazzling white in the dim lighting. “The SOBs must be getting pretty hard up to send a virgin after me. Do you know who I am?”
“Do I care?”
“Maximillian Marchette. My friends call me Max.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“The Matchettes are one of the oldest-born vamp families in existence. Do you know why that is?”
“Again, do I care?”
“Because we know how to handle an SOB.” His dark gaze burned into mine and if I hadn’t known that he was talking about death and destruction, I would have sworn he wanted to take me to bed.
Not that I was falling for it. No matter how much I missed sex, this vamp was going down.
“Do you know how many times someone’s tried to stake me?” he went on.
“What’s with the twenty questions? I don’t know and I don’t care, so just get to the point.”
“It’s not going to happen. Certainly not with a virgin behind the stake. The SOBs must be getting sloppy.”
“Maybe they’re just getting smart.”
He eyed me for a long moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“This.” And then I did what I’d been wanting to do since the first moment our eyes had locked.
I kissed him.
Not because I was desperate and horny or because he practically oozed sex appeal, of course. It was a purely calculated move to get his mind off the fact that I was trying to kill him and on to the fact that maybe, just maybe, I might be an easy lay.
Or at least a quick bite.
Either one would distract him enough so that I could retrieve the second stake from my back pocket.
If he loosened my arms.
Sure enough, once he recovered from the initial shock of me laying one on him, his mouth grew stronger and more purposeful. He slid his tongue past my lips, stroking and delving. His grip on my wrists loosened and his hands dropped to my waist.
I played along.
OK, so I sort of got pulled along for the next few moments. I kissed him back, tasting and feeling and enjoying the hardness of his body pressed to mine until I felt the sharpness of his teeth against my bottom lip. A bolt of excitement rushed through me, twisting my priorities for several heartbeats before zapping me back to reality. Back to the fact that he was a vampire and I was here to kill him and I could kiss my 401 – and my future – goodbye, if I failed here.
My hands trembled, but I managed to get my arm behind me. My fingers closed around the stake and a split second later, I was pushing it deep into his ribcage.
“We have to get rid of the body,” Uncle Jimmy said a half-hour later.
We stood in the back alley of the club near a large orange dumpster. The vampire lay in a heap against the side of the building. Blood bubbling up around the stake lodged in his chest and drenched the front of his shirt, and he was even paler than usual.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Not that he heard me. He was so still, his eyes closed. My chest tightened.
“Forget about it,” Uncle Jimmy said. “I don’t expect you to do disposal duty, too. It’s your first night. Go home and savour the moment and I’ll take care of the rest.”
But I wouldn’t be savouring anything. Already I felt sick to my stomach. And scared.
Because any second Uncle Jimmy would lean down and take a closer look. He would realize that my aim had been off and that the vampire was still alive.
I could still feel the pulse of his heart against the palm of my hand. And the blood.
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.
“I’ll do it,” I blurted when Jimmy started to lean down. “It’s my kill. I should get rid of it.”
He looked uncertain. “You remember the rules, right?”
“Remove the stake, cut off the head and dump the rest at the nearest SOB warehouse.” I nodded frantically. “I’ve got it.” When he didn’t look convinced, I added: Please, I really want to do this. All of it. It’s my responsibility. Just grab his feet and help me get him into the van. I’ll take it from there.”
“He’s really heavy.”
“I haven’t been working out every day for nothing,” I flexed a muscle. “Besides, I need to learn how to do this myself. Once I’m out in the field, I’ll be on my own. I’ll have to do it. I might as well start learning now.”
He finally nodded and reached for the vampire’s feet.
I inched my way behind, slid my hands under the vampire’s arms and prayed that he’d lost enough blood to keep him unconscious a little while longer. Otherwise, Uncle Jimmy would realize the truth, re-stake him and the bloodsucker would be dead for sure.
And for some insane reason – my overly sensitive conscience or his vampiric charm, or maybe a little of both – I didn’t want that to happen.
No, what I really wanted was for Max Marchette to wake up in my arms.
And I really wanted another one of those kisses.
The SOBs had a disposal warehouse on the upper east side of Manhattan. It was the perfect place to slice and dice and rid the world of fanged vermin. Uncle Jimmy phoned them that I was coming and waved me off.
Once I got out of sight of the club, I hung a left and headed for Brooklyn. I had a two-bedroom condo with a postage stamp for a yard. It wasn’t big, but it was home.
Even better, it was safe.
I pulled up out front and spent a good fifteen minutes pulling and tugging Max out of the back of the van. I had him cocooned in canvas and, luckily, the blood had stopped so he wasn’t bleeding through the fabric.
“New rug,” I told the insomnia-suffering next-door neighbour when he poked a head out and asked me if I could use a hand. I nodded and the old man came down to help.
“I could help you unroll it,” old Mr Wimble offered once we had the bundle inside my condo. “No trouble.”
“I haven’t decided where to put it, but thanks,” I watched the old man leave and then turned to Max.
After several pulls and tugs, I managed to unwrap him and drag him into the bedroom. Getting him on the bed wasn’t as easy, but I finally managed. Once he was sprawled on top, I went about the sticky business of extracting the stake. I tugged and pulled and, finally, it slid free. He bucked off the bed with a loud gasp. Blood bubbled from the open wound for a few seconds and then, just like that, it stopped.
I unbuttoned his bloody shirt and did my best to bandage him up. I secured the blinds and drapes, covered Max with a blanket and the collapsed in a nearby chair to wait.
Not to sleep. I reminded myself. I had to be awake when he opened his eyes, otherwise I would find myself bitten and bleeding . . .
With heavy eyes I took in his sleeping form. It was daylight. He had to sleep, right? At least that’s what the books had said. Which meant I had a few hours. I could close my eyes just for a little and take a catnap. Maybe fifteen minutes. Maybe . . .
Zzzzzzzzz.
And just like that, I was out.
I opened my eyes later that afternoon to find him propped up against the wall, watching me. He still looked pale and weak, but I could tell he was feeling better. He’d removed the bandage and I saw that the gaping hole was starting to come together and heal.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked me after a few silent moments.
Guilt tugged at me, but I tried to force it aside. “Let’s see. Oh, yeah. You’re a bloodsucker and a murderer.”
“Not the stake.” His gaze pushed into mine and I realized all too late that I’d left my Ray-Bans sitting on the nightstand. “Why did you save me?”
“You’re a vampire. You tell me.”
His eyes fired a bright, brilliant gold colour for a split second before a strange expression lit his face. His eyes fired again, as if he were determined to push into my thoughts and see everything for himself.
He couldn’t.
I saw it in the frustration that etched his forehead and the surprise that blazed in his eyes.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
I shrugged. “My aim’s off.”
He shook his head. “Bullshit. You haven’t got the balls for this job and you know it.”
I did know it. It was a truth that had been nagging me ever since I’d failed the field test and I’d just been too scared to admit it.
To my family.
To myself.
“So tell me the truth. Tell me why you saved me.”
“You didn’t deserve to die.” I wasn’t sure why I said it, nut I did. “At least not that I know of. You didn’t try to suck my blood or hurt me in any way.”
“Maybe I will now.”
“Maybe,” I gathered my courage and stared him down. “And then I will have to kill you.”
He kept staring at me, as if trying to figure me out, before he finally shook his head and slumped back down on the pillows. He hissed against the sudden movement.
“Does it hurt?”
“Our senses are magnified,” he growled. “What do you think?”
“Can you take ibuprofen?”
He nodded and I hurried into the kitchen.
A few seconds later, I returned with a glass of water and two tiny pills. “Here.” I sank down gently onto the side of the bed and helped him lift his head. He opened his mouth and I plopped the pills on his tongue. His lips grazed my fingers and awareness bolted through me.
It was the same feeling I’d had back at the club those few moments he’d had me pinned to the wall.
The feeling of being alive. And tingling. And desperate.
As if I needed him right there. Right now.
He caught my hand with one of his own and placed a kiss on my fingertips. “Not
all vampires are bad. Yes, we drink blood.” He pulled his lips back and his sharp fangs grazed the tender inside of my wrist. I stiffened and he let me pull away. His eyes gleamed even brighter and I could see the hunger in his expression. “We drink for survival.” He blinked, seeming to get control of himself and the fierceness in his eyes eased. “We don’t all mutilate and slaughter.”
Maybe not, but I was still trembling. From what? From fear? Or from the fact that my fingers were tingling where his mouth had touched them?
I gathered my courage and touched the glass to his lips. Something flickered in his dark gaze as he stared up at me. I knew he couldn’t read my thoughts, but I had the strangest feeling that he could sense my body’s reaction to him. My pounding heart and my trembling knees and –
“You should get some rest,” I blurted, setting the glass of water on the nightstand. The bed dipped and I moved back to the chair.
Fear, a tiny voice whispered. You should be afraid of this vampire.
But I wasn’t afraid, I realized, as I folded my legs beneath me. While I knew all the awful things that he was capable of, the only threat he’d posed so far had been to my hormones.
He stared at me for a long moment before he finally nodded. He settled back down on the bed and closed his eyes.
And then he went to sleep.
He slept for the next four days while I dodged phone calls from Uncle Jimmy who wanted to know where I’d dumped the body because none of the disposal sites had reported any new arrivals. While Max could heal as well as the next vampire, without blood – and despite the lust that raged between us, I wasn’t up to volunteering mine – the process took longer. He would wake for a few hours here and there. I would hand him more painkillers and water and he would nod back off.
But first we would talk.
In the beginning, it was mostly small stuff, like where he lived and where I was from. Favourite movies and songs. But eventually the conversations grew deeper until I was asking him questions about being a vampire and he was asking me about the SOBs. He told me about his own family and how he had two brothers and a sister who owned and ran a successful dating service in Manhattan. I learned that even more than sucking blood, born vampires like to procreate and make money, In turn, I told him about my mom and dad and my Uncle Jimmy, and, how even more than making money, I wanted to actually be happy. I wanted to find something I was good at – to be myself. Whether that was as a SOB or the fry girl down at the local hamburger joint. I even mentioned that I used to paint and showed him some of the pictures I’d done.
