Witch Me (Blood Chord Book 3)

by Alex Owens

  “I’m going to flay him, an inch of skin at a time.” Clive’s expression utterly blank. Chills ran up my spine. “Then I’m going to start pulling off body parts until all that’s left is his torso and head. Then I’m going to make him eat his own intestines...”

  Granted, I was a sadistic bitch sometimes too, but Clive was making me look like a saint.

  “Not that I don’t disagree, but let me just tell you Clive, this is a side of you that I’ve not seen in a while.” I tried to keep my tone light and warm. Scary Clive could make even the bravest bastards shit their pants; I much preferred my cocky, pervy Clive.

  He had a faraway look on his face for a moment, before snapping back to me. It was like flipping a switch, and then he smiled at me. “But first, I have to have proof. The others will require it, and without proof I could set off our own version of a civil war.”

  I held one of my hands up and flexed it. We’d been hanging in the same spot for several minutes by then, though he seemed not to notice.

  “Proof, huh? How are we going to get that?” I asked.

  “I have an idea,” Clive said. “Come on, we’ve got some calls to make.”

  And with that, Clive pushed back from the wall and began a fifty-foot freefall to the ground. I screamed, but Clive only laughed as he flipped through the air and landed gracefully on his feet far below me.

  “Come on, your turn,” he shouted up to me.

  I shook my head and looked widely around for another option. Given the difficulty I’d had climbing up, I didn’t see that climbing down was going to work out for me. Why didn’t they have a rope or something? Right, fucking Vampires.

  “Claire, do you trust me?” he called out.

  “Yes,” I responded. And I meant it. Wonder when that had happened?

  “Then just let go.”

  I said a quick prayer to whatever deity might be listening and shoved off from the rock ledge like I was doing a back-flip from the high-dive. I fell through the air yelling, “If break my neck, I’m coming back to haunt you!”

  Chapter Eleven

  “If you do a good job, I’ve got a reward waiting for you back at the compound,” Clive stepped in line behind me and smacked me on the ass. I yelped and stepped up my pace.

  “Oh, really. Care to give me a hint? You know, in case I need the extra incentive.” I said, tossing an extra wiggle in my walk. We were hoofing it from the depths of an underground parking garage and up to the street level. If I’d planned it right, we’d hit the target location in under three minutes.

  Clive seemed to think for a moment before giving in. “Fine. You’re hint is that the reward will be enjoyed by us both, equally. At least, that is the hope.”

  “Well, that’s helpful. Care to elaborate?” I said, pausing at the garage entry to see if anyone was out and about. The streets shouldn’t be populated at four a.m., I was counting on that. If anyone saw us, we’d stick out like a sore thumb. Avoiding people was vital to the job.

  When Clive didn’t respond, I turned and stopped, blocking his path. I crossed my arms as if to say I’m waiting. He came to a standstill a few inches away, close enough that I could smell his woodsy aftershave. From the sheepish look on his face, I assumed the reward was going to come in the form of another cock in the hen house.

  If that was the case, I was so down for that.

  I only hoped that when we got right down to it, it didn’t turn me off or make me uncomfortable. I’d like to say that I’m as open-minded as they come, but in truth, you never really know how you’re going to react to something until the shit actually goes down. After all, reactions are classified as “knee-jerk” because you can’t control them. Not really.

  I decided to ease his fears the only way I knew how, by flirting of course.

  “Oh, I’ll do a good job alright.” I leaned forward and purred in Clive’s ear, running my fingertips over his chest. “And I expect our reward to be wrapped up in a big, red bow.”

  Clive broke eye contact and bowed his head solemnly. “As you wish, Princess.”

  I mock-punched him in the gut. Whatever I was, I was certainly no princess.

  I took a moment to appreciate the man I was committing larceny (and other felonies) with for the evening. While he wasn’t looking at me, of course. We were both going for stereotypical stealthy clothes, but he looked positively edible in his. From his dark tousled hair to his Navy seal attire, it was a side of him that I didn’t often get to see. He was usually so polished.

  But right then, alternate-world Clive was looking damn fine. His tight, fitted black t-shirt showed off his sculpted body in just the right way and the dark gray cargo pants only enhanced the view, and his package. My body went all tingly and I had to force myself to focus on the task at hand. That was never easy when Clive was around. At least, not anymore.

  “Come on, we’re clear.” I stepped out onto the sidewalk and he fell in step beside me.

  “I ran the route through an online exercise planner and it said we should be able to do it in under five minutes. But that’s for humans trying to walk off the pounds, so I figure that we can cut that number in half without breaking a sweat.” I stepped to the edge of the road, looked both ways and motioned that we needed to cross over.

  “I also picked this route because it’s in a low traffic area, has minimal CCTV coverage and plenty of shadowy areas to step into, if need be.” I was almost proud of the planning I’d put into this impromptu job, especially considering that I’d had just a few hours to come up with said plan.

  “I’m impressed. And you’ve never done anything like this before?” Clive pointed to a street light camera on a pole up ahead, and we both stepped into the shadows created by the overhangs of shuttered businesses.

  “Nope, not unless you count stalking my high school boyfriend for a few days. I was sure that he was cheating on me and I went to great lengths to prove it. When I finally caught him and all my hard work came to fruition, I was so thrilled that I almost forgot to tear him a new one. Almost.” I said, chuckling to myself.

  “They say hell hath no fury,” Clive teased.

  I bumped into him playfully. “You better believe it, buddy.”

  We arrived at the target moments later, coming up through the alley to the back entrance. One of the tricky parts of my plan came next. It was then that everything could fall apart, making it impossible to finish the job. It was also where I was going to have to get my hands dirty, figuratively speaking.

  I pointed to a spot behind the door, tucked into a small niche adjacent to the dumpster. It would allow Clive to be extremely close, yet out of sight when the door opened. It also was in a blind spot for the over-the-door camera. Clive took direction well and crept into position. He nodded when he was ready for me to do my part.

  I couldn’t just walk up to the door, knock, and expect to be let in though. These guys were way too smart for that. No, I was going to need a ruse—something strong enough to get the door open and give me those few seconds I’d need to take the guards out.

  When planning that mission, I’d almost thrown in the towel right there. There wasn’t another way in, believe me, I’d looked. But all it took for me to view what I had to do as a necessary evil was to run a few quick background checks on the men inside. You’d be surprised at the information you can find out with only a few mouse clicks. And I’d found a boat-load. It had been enough to convince me. Not only were they dispensable, but society would be better off no doubt. We’d be doing a public service, really.

  I moved to the side of the alley, pressing my hands up against the rough brick surface. Steeling myself, I quickly smashed my own face into the wall, aiming for my cheek bone. Something crunched and I could smell the blood as it pooled and trickled down my face. I mussed up my hair and tore the strap of my tank top, pushing my bra strap down off the shoulder. Putting on my best panicky face, I hurried over to the door and pounded on the slick metal surface.

  “Help! Someone help! Pleas
e, he’s going to kill me!” I wailed and pounded and did my best to look small and terrified.

  A normal human wouldn’t have heard the whirl and click of the overhead surveillance camera as it was being fine-tuned for better view of the door step, but I was able to pick it up just fine, so someone had taken notice. I decided to take my performance to the next level.

  “Please, let me in! Call the police!” I pounded on the door, glanced frantically behind me, and continued screaming. Hell, I even managed to squeeze out a few crocodile tears.

  I knew that the last thing that criminals would want was a bunch of cops poking around, so I hoped my screams for the police would be an extra incentive to shut me up, one way or another. To accomplish that, they first had to open the door.

  Footsteps approached on the other side of the steel barrier. Two sets of them, no make that three. I tensed, then remembered the camera and swiveled my head wildly, like I’d heard something behind me.

  “Get ready,” I barely whispered, once my face turned away from the camera. I knew that Clive could hear me just fine with his ancient super-ears. I could take out one, maybe two by myself, but three was probably pushing it.

  I pounded on the door again. “For the love of God let me in! He’ll kill me, please!”

  A bolt on the other side of the door slid with a clack.

  “Please!” I dropped my fangs in preparation.

  The knob on the door began to turn. I waited a beat, then another, before tossing a soft wail out to seal the deal. I covered my face and backed away from the door, letting myself fall backwards, landing hard on my ass. I cried out as the door whooshed open.

  Three mountainous men exited the building, hands on their holsters and eyes scanning warily. I knew they’d be tough, but to see them looming over me was quite another story. I only hoped that I timed my execution (no pun intended) perfectly or shit was going to go sideways, real fast.

  “Hey, yoos!” One of them said to me. “Get outta here!”

  So much for them giving a shit about a damsel in distress. See, bad dudes, just like I said.

  I looked up, letting my bleeding and bruised face tell the story for me. I needed them to see me as small, injured and weak. I needed them to come a little closer. “Please,” I whispered.

  Two of the guards inched forward, while the other hung back to secure the door. I knew one of them would, that’s why Clive was positioned to take that guard out first, before anyone had time to retreat back into the building and we lost our only point of entry.

  I raised my hands to the guards and one of them stepped forward to help me stand. I’d been hoping that they’d each take one of my arms so that I could do them at the same time, but that wasn’t the case. I’d have to improvise then.

  While one guard helped me up, I muttered, covering my fangs as best I could with my lips. When he leaned in to better hear me, I made my move, ripping his throat apart before he had time to cry out. Sweet, sweet blood rained down my arm, and in that space of a heartbeat I really wanted to lap it up, not waste a drop of it.

  But there’s wasn’t time for that. Instead, I pitched forward in the direction of my second guard and cried, “Aardvark!”

  That was the signal we’d agreed upon. Silly, I know, but I wanted something that had no chance of being said randomly. Upon hearing the code, Clive took out the man at the door, quickly, before the first body dropped and all hell broke loose. At the same moment, I leapt onto the second guard and tackled him to the ground. His blood flowed freely into my mouth before the first guy smacked the pavement.

  Thirteen second—that’s the amount of time it took for three guys inside a seedy, dark-web fortress to go from punching a timecard to clocking out permanently. Ten of that Clive and I spent sucking the last two poor bastards dry. When we were done, I lifted the ID badges and keys off the bodies. Clive took care of tossing them into the dumpster while I did one last thing before officially breaking and entering.

  I pulled off the dark hoodie that I’d kept tied around my waist, pulled it on and made sure the hood fell at least partially over my face. The inside of the building surely had better-imaging cameras than the weatherproof outside ones, and I didn’t want my face showing up too clearly whenever someone started trying to figure out just what the hell had happened overnight.

  Clive removed the piece of cardboard he’d used to keep the door from shutting all the way, and ushered me inside. “And the Oscar goes to...” he whispered over my shoulder.

  I smiled, but did not turn around so that he could see it. I was focused. We pressed forward, making our way to the top of the building. We still had to be careful, but I knew that they usually had four guards on duty overnight, so I assumed the fourth guard was posted at the entrance desk. He could be a wildcard.

  That meant we couldn’t dilly-dally. At some point, the remaining guard would notice that his buddies were M.I.A and he’d be calling in the cavalry. We didn’t want to be around when that happened.

  After a lengthy sprint up three flights of stairs, we paused at the entrance to the top floor suite. The building plans I’d gleaned from the city showed the entire floor was one large open space. They also told me that an obscene amount of power and fiber optic lines had been allocated to the space, so I was willing to be we’d find everything we needed just inside.

  Clive tried the door; it was locked. I handed him a ring of keys I’d lifted from one of the guards and he patiently tried each one until the lock clicked and the handle turned. He opened the door silently and we crept in, pulling the door softly behind us.

  The room was aglow in the green light of computers sleeping. The only noise came from fans cooling the elaborate systems. Clive nodded to me and made his way to the front of the space, closest to the street and in full view of the windows that wrapped around the front of the building. He was looking for the head honcho’s workspace.

  I went in the other direction. Any one of the thirty computers in the main area should hold the information I wanted, so I chose one way in the back, away from the door and the prying vantage point of the windows. At least that way, if someone interrupted us Clive could distract them while I circled around from the back.

  I reached my target workspace and jiggled the mouse. The monitor flickered on and the system hummed to life. Now, I’m not a computer nerd. Hell, I get really close to throwing something when my home printer decides to stop talking to my laptop and I can’t make it work by brute force. So I knew better than to think I was just going to waltz in, peck a few keys and have instant access.

  That’s why I’d made a call to a guy Clive recommended earlier in the day, who cleverly went by the alias HackerT. While the sun shone brightly overhead, the poor kid with a stuttering problem had sent over a package via messenger, a little something special for a troglodyte such as myself. It was that same device that I slipped from one side of my bra, and the tiny inch-long cord from the other.

  Don’t judge—when you’re cursed with big boobs, you learn make use of the damned things. I’ve stored all kinds of objects down there at one point or another. Cell phones, car keys, even a wine cooler back in the day when my teenage self suddenly gaped at the business end of a cop car. But I digress...

  Plugging the hacking device into the port on the side of the computer, I pressed the power button and waited for the prompt to appear on the screen. HackerT had been very explicit with his instructions. Plug it in. Turn it on. Wait for the prompt to pop up. Input the code he’d given me, which I’d written in sharpie on the inside of my right forearm, within the first ten seconds. Then I was to hit CTRL+ALT+F7 and the device would do its magic.

  Easy Peasy.

  I looked down and cursed. My right arm was coated in a film of crusted blood, courtesy of Dead Thug number one. I looked around for a rag, a paper towel, anything to clean off my arm so that I could see the code, but I couldn’t find a damn thing.

  A faint beep on the computer made me look up. The prompt appeared on the screen
. I only had ten seconds, so I did what any Vamp in a hurry would do—I licked the dried blood from my arm like a fat kid licks an ice cream cone. With only a second to spare, I entered the seven digit code and hit the command sequence as instructed.

  The screen flashed and I held my proverbial breath. I prayed that I hadn’t screwed up somewhere. Finally, after an excruciatingly long pause, the screen came back on and I could see that the contents of the server were actively being cloned and saved to the device itself. I owed HackerT a big kiss. Well, not really, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

  Clive approached me silently. In fact, I smelled him before I heard him.

  “Are you almost done?” He asked.

  “A few more seconds,” I said, “then we should be good to go. Did you find what you were after?”

  He patted his stomach and I detected a slight crinkle. He’d shoved a packet of some sort down the front of his pants. At least I wasn’t the only one hiding things in weird places. Two peas in a pod, we were.

  I checked the progress bar on the screen again, impatiently watching it creep towards the finish line. “Almost there. Why don’t you go check the hallway to make sure the coast is clear?” I said.

  Clive complied and glided off in the direction we’d entered.

  I liked being the brains of the operation, I’m not going to lie. Initially, he wanted me to do the job solo as a sort of test run. But in the end, I could tell he was afraid to let me go alone. So then it morphed into me helping him—which I pointed out wasn’t a very good way for me to prove that I could do it. So we’d settled on me doing the job, with him there to serve as backup. Or possibly save my ass if something went wrong.

  So far, I’d surpassed even my own expectations, knock on wood.

  I stared at the computer screen willing it to hurry up. We were pushing it on time, and I really wanted to get out as quickly as possible. The waiting was making me antsy.