by E.J. Stevens
I groaned and let my head drop into my hands.
“I really do stink,” I said.
“I wouldn’t know,” Ash said with a shrug. “The benefits of being dead. But you do have some rather vile muck on your boots, and about an inch of vampire ash coating your hair. Plus, you keep talking to your imaginary friend.”
I shook my head—kicking up an embarrassing cloud of dust—and straightened, ignoring the burning in my cheeks. Ash just smirked. Apparently, he thought being my imaginary friend was hilarious.
“Come on,” I said. “I need a shower and about three days of sleep.”
The sugar high that I was currently on wouldn’t last. I’d be lucky if I made it to my bed without passing out.
I winced, the memory of my hotel bed coming to the surface unbidden. Crap. As much as sleep beckoned, I had a long morning ahead of me. The vampires had torn my bed to ribbons and trashed my room. Not to mention the Vandenberghes’ blood left smeared across the lobby floor.
I groaned and Ash raised an eyebrow. I was about to tell him about the cleaning job that loomed in my future, but I felt a flash of recognition at one of the faces in the crowd.
“What is it, love?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
That might have been funny a minute ago, but not now. The man I’d seen over Ash’s shoulder was no innocent tourist. I’d seen this monster recently in a centuries old painting, and he hadn’t aged a day. I’d know that face anywhere.
It was Jacques de Chatillon, the lone French survivor of the Bruges Matins nocturnal massacre, Philip’s right hand man.
“This way,” I said, grabbing Ash’s arm and dragging him through the crowd.
People looked at me strangely, but I didn’t care if it seemed like I was talking to myself. Philip had sent Jacques de Chatillon to rule over Bruges once before, and I was going to make sure that once again he was cast out of the city—preferably in a bag of street sweepings.
Ash and I pushed our way through the crowd. Well, I pushed and he sometimes floated through the tourists, although from the way he twitched, I didn’t think that was his favorite option. He may only be solid when touching me, and vampires, and some inanimate objects, but passing through humans looked like it hurt. Apparently, being incorporeal had a down side.
“How come you can touch vampires?” I asked.
I turned my head back and forth struggling to keep Jacques in sight. The distance was growing between us, but no matter how fast we ran I couldn’t outpace the vampire. My only hope was that he’d stop somewhere soon so we could close the distance.
“Because they’re dead,” Ash said.
I suppose that made sense. My feet were sore from running on cobbles, and my calf was screaming at me to stop, so I distracted myself with the puzzle that was Alistair Ashford.
“So, how can you touch me?” I asked. “I’m not dead.”
“That I don’t know,” he said.
“Oh,” I said lamely.
I’d hoped he’d have more answers.
“Are you going to tell me why we’re running, or is this some evil plan to burn off those waffle calories?” he asked.
I stopped and spun in a circle, but the vampire was nowhere in sight. I pounded my fist against the nearest building. I’d lost him.
“Jacques de Chatillon, he was here,” I said. I growled in frustration. “Was being the operative word, since I lost him.”
“Jacques de Chatillon, Philip’s second in command?” he asked.
“Bingo, that’s the one,” I said. “Damn. Look, I have to stop by the Guild later to check on Sofia and Nicolas. There’s a picture of Jacques down in the archives. I’ll borrow the painting and ask Celeste to do a tracking spell. Maybe we can figure out what Jacques is up to and put a stop to it.”
Philip’s right hand vamp was in Bruges. It was time to take him out of the equation and wrap this up like a Christmas present. This mission wouldn’t be over until I cleared out every last bloodsucker from this city. Taking out the leaders would hasten that.
“You were lucky to spot him at all in this crowd,” Ash said. “At least now we know he’s here leading Philip’s men. It’s a damn sight more than we knew before.”
An older couple clipped my heels with their suitcase, and I clenched my fists so hard that my nails bit into my palms.
“Why is it so damned crowded?” I asked. “Is it half priced frites day or something? Where did all these people come from?”
I was rambling, but it was better than cracking heads when there are no monsters within easy reach.
“Day after tomorrow is Ascension Day,” he said, still looking around for any sign of the vampire. “Or rather, tomorrow is.”
We’d spent a long time down in those sewers. Another hour and the sun would be rising over the city.
“And?” I asked.
I was tired, I was bleeding, and the sugar buzz had worn off. I started limping back toward the inn, where I faced at least two more hours of bagging up debris and scrubbing floors before I could grab any sleep. I was in no mood for riddles.
“Over fifty thousand people come to Bruges each year on Ascension Day for the procession festivities,” he said with a shrug. “It’ll get a mite busier before the day is out.”
“Well the timing sucks,” I said with a scowl.
“I’ll be sure to complain to the tourist board,” Ash said.
Fifty thousand people? That had to be double the local population. Not the kind of complication you want when you’re hunting monsters. I’d try to keep the violence from spilling onto the busy city streets, but there was never any guarantee when dealing with bloodsucking vampires.
“So what is this whole procession thing?” I asked. “Some kind of street carnival?”
If there were going to be parties in the street, I was wearing ear plugs to bed. It would give the monsters an edge whilst sneaking up on me, but that was a chance I was willing to take if this was some kind of Belgian Mardi Gras.
“It’s the Holy Blood Procession,” he said. “It’s basically a parade with men in medieval costumes. Then there’s a bit of street theater—sometimes they do a passion play, which is not as fun as it sounds—followed by much rejoicing and everyone cramming into the pubs.”
I shook my head. I was definitely wearing ear plugs all weekend. I was so tired that even my eyelids ached. Too bad I still had an inn to scrub clean.
Ash and I spent the rest of the morning washing away the evidence of the attack on Sofia and Nicolas. There were no other boarders staying here at the inn, but I couldn’t risk someone showing up and seeing something in the light of day. With fifty thousand revelers flooding into the city, most hotels would be at maximum occupancy. Tourists were bound to come here in hopes of renting a room.
Plus, the place needed to be spotless when the couple returned home, and I was hoping that would be soon. So we grabbed gloves, bleach, and garbage bags and set to work.
Being a Hunter isn’t always glamorous. More often than not it involves wading through blood, shit, and tears. The upside is that I’d become something of an expert at cleaning up the messes the monsters leave behind.
When we were done, there wasn’t a trace of evidence to prove that an assault had ever happened. I suppose if I ever needed extra cash, or a new job, I could try my hand at crime scene cleanup. It’s always good to have a backup plan.
“The place actually sparkles,” Ash said.
“If you make a vampire joke, I will stake you with this mop handle,” I said, leaning against the back of the Vandenberghes’ couch. “Don’t think I won't.”
We were standing in Sofia and Nicolas’ apartment. When we started there’d been blood all over the floor—lots of it—since the vamps had dragged the Vandenberghes’ bleeding bodies through the apartment on their way out the back door.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
“Speaking of dreams,” I said, stifling a yawn. “It’s time I follow Doc’s ord
ers and get some sleep. See you in the morning?”
“It is morning,” he said. “But yes, I'll stop by once you’re up.”
I put away the mop and bucket and shooed Ash toward the door.
“Jenna,” he said. “You did good today.”
I shook my head.
“I screwed up in more ways than I can count,” I said. "But thanks.”
“You staked Dampierre, a notorious seven-hundred-year-old master vampire, led a raid to clean out a huge nest of bloodsucking vamps and flesh eating ghouls, rescued human prisoners, and stuck around to clean up a supernatural crime scene,” he said. “Bloody hell, woman. Learn to take a compliment.”
He walked out the door without looking back. I locked up and climbed the stairs to my room, a small smile on my lips.
When he said it like that, it sounded like a victory.
Chapter 41
“If you can’t find your balance, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”
-Niall Janus, Master Hunter
I expected to toss and turn all morning, but apparently the exertion of the hunt and the following hours of cleanup had pounded my nightmares into submission. I slept like the dead.
Damn good thing too, since I had a busy evening planned. I needed to visit the infirmary to check in on Sofia’s and Nicolas’ progress, then convince Darryl to loan me documents from the archives, and get Celeste to cast a locator spell to help me find a needle in a stack of freaking needles.
Once we had Jacques’ location, we could plan out tonight’s hunt. I wanted to rid the city of the remaining vampires, and I had a hunch that I’d find the House Capet clan vampires wherever Jacques was hiding out.
As much as I wanted to rush off for the wholesale slaughter of House Capet vampires, I knew enough to go through my usual training routine, waking up fully, and finding my balance. As Master Janus was fond of saying to new recruits, “If you can’t find your balance, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”
I stretched and moved through my katas, testing the new stitches I’d given myself, and working through the stiffness I’d acquired from sleeping on the floor. I hadn’t been able to replace my room’s furnishings, not at the ungodly hour we’d returned to the inn, and the mattress was beyond repair. I’d bagged up the shredded fabric and mounds of stuffing, and used the remains of the curtains for a pillow. As soon as I could, I’d order what I needed to make the room new again. So long as I kept renting the room and kept a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, the Vandenberghes should be none the wiser.
That didn’t make the guilt any harder to shake.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered as I left the room.
I’d never forgive myself for leading the monsters to the Vandenberghes’ doorstep, and I vowed never to make the same mistake again.
I made it to the infirmary by eight o’clock, just in time to interrupt Benjamin Martens’ dinner.
“For the love of Pete, let me eat in peace,” he growled around a mouthful of bacon cheeseburger.
I wrinkled my nose and nodded over his shoulder toward the curtained off rows of beds.
“How are they?” I asked.
I tapped my foot as Martens pointedly ignored the question. After about five minutes, the room began to spin and I realized I was holding my breath. I crossed my arms, made an effort to breathe, and focused on the blotch of mustard on Martens’ nose as I waited for his response. It was better than watching the ketchup and grease dripping from his burger like blood and plasma onto his desk blotter.
“Better than can be expected,” he said, as he chewed the last bite of his burger.
He gave a one armed shrug and wiped his face with a paper napkin. The sound as he dragged the napkin against the bristles of his five o’clock shadow grated on my nerves, but I kept a straight face as I asked, “And Sofia and Nicolas Vandenberghe?”
“The Vandenberghes are doing fine,” he said. “They’re a little shaken up, but they should be able to go home later tonight. I’ve been sending folks home once they wake up, but those two were still asleep last I checked.”
Sofia and Nicolas were going to be okay, thank God.
“Let me know if they need anything, and if there’s any extra costs involved in caring for these people, bill it to me,” I said.
The Hunters’ Guild was sworn to protect humans from the monsters, but I hadn’t asked Chadwick’s permission before bringing House Dampierre’s prisoners to the infirmary. I hadn’t followed protocol, and Martens knew it. If anyone was going to have to face Master Peeters about any incurred costs, it would be me. I might as well offer to cough up the money now, before Martens sent the bill up the food chain.
There went the money I’d been saving for replacement rounds for my SIG semi-automatic pistol and a custom KA-BAR tactical knife. It’s not like the human military or outdoor survivalists need their blades tipped with silver and iron, or their firearms loaded with silver, iron, or wooden bullets. Well, not that they know of. It sure would make my job easier if they did.
My point being, you can’t buy the necessary weapons for hunting the fae and the undead in your local Walmart. Good weapons, the kind that kept my ass from becoming grass, weren’t cheap, and from the look on his face, Martens was about to drain my bank account dry.
I sighed and shook my head.
“I’ll be down in the archives if you need me,” I said.
“Got a new lead on the House Capet vampires?” he asked.
“Let’s just say I have an interest in art appreciation,” I said with a wink.
He grunted and turned back to his desk and its scattered piles of paperwork. I had to go up to the ground level before crossing the lobby and descending down the stairs to the archives. It gave me time to formulate a plan for convincing Darryl to break the rules and allow me to remove an ancient painting from the Guild’s collection. I rubbed my neck and sighed.
It wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter 42
“Note to self; don’t try to sneak up on a blind Hunter.”
-Jenna Lehane, Hunter
By the time I made it to the archives, I’d decided to borrow the painting without asking. It’s often easier to ask forgiveness than ask permission. I opened the door slowly, without so much as a creak, and tiptoed inside the archives. Darryl wasn’t behind his desk and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Good so far.
Walking carefully, I crossed through the main chamber and into the musty room in the back. But when I lifted the painting of Philip and Jacques from the wall, I felt the cold edge of a blade at my throat.
Note to self; don’t try to sneak up on a blind Hunter.
“Did you really think you could come in here without me knowing?” Darryl asked.
He shifted into my peripheral vision, allowing me to see that, though his voice was hard, his lips twitched in amusement.
“Look, Darryl, I can explain,” I said.
“Girl, I don’t want to know why you’re trying to steal Guild property,” he said.
“Earlier this morning…” I said.
“No,” he said, holding up one large hand and lowering the sword in the other. “I really don’t want to know. I’m going to go to my desk and sharpen pencils real noisy like, and if you and that there painting aren’t here when I’m done, then there’s no way a blind man could have known what you were up to. Now is there?”
“I’ll bring it back,” I said.
“Don’t want to know,” he said.
Darryl padded off to the front of the archives, and I waited for him to start up the pencil sharpener before so much as blinking. When I tiptoed out past his desk, Darryl was pushing pencils into the electric sharpener, a smile playing along his lips. I shook my head and tiptoed out of the archives.
For once, something had gone easier than expected. I should have known the proverbial shit was positioning itself to hit the fan with the greatest possible impact.
Chapter 43
“You keep throwing yourself in front o
f the monsters, and you’ll find out soon enough that life is short.”
-Alistair Ashford, Hunter
I made it out onto the street to where Ash was waiting without encountering another Hunter. I took that as a good omen.
“You made it out without a sword in the gut,” Ash said with a nod. “Well color me impressed.”
“Actually, Darryl made it pretty easy,” I said, gingerly setting the bottom edge of the painting’s frame on the sidewalk and balancing it against the side of a stone building. “At least, he did once he established that I wasn’t pulling the wool over his eyes. At a guess, I’d say he’s a bit touchy about being underestimated.”
“Lambert let you waltz out of the archives with a priceless painting?” Ash asked, eyes widening.
I shrugged.
“He knows I’ll do my best to bring it back,” I said. “I wouldn’t take it if it wasn’t important.”
“No, love, you don’t do anything selfish,” he said. “That much is obvious.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” I said narrowing my eyes at him.
Now it was Ash’s turn to shrug.
“You keep throwing yourself in front of the monsters, and you’ll find out soon enough that life is short,” he said. “Take it from me. Live a little while you still can.”
I snorted.
“Because that’s working out so well for Celeste,” I said. “Speaking of which, I need to give her a call about working a locator spell. I tried calling earlier, but it went straight to voicemail.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Celeste. I wasn’t sure if she was back yet from her meeting with her coven, but hopefully she’d have her ringer on. Once again, I was in luck.
Celeste picked up on the third ring, her voice groggy. I just hoped that she was catching up on her sleep, not hitting the Mandragora. If she kept smoking that stuff, she was going to burn away the last wedge of her Swiss cheese memory.
