Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  I skim through his apartment, mostly to get an overall feeling for him. I’m not really into specifics right now; I’ve found out most of what I need to know online and with the help of Leon’s excellent computer spying skills.

  His place is clean and modern; the only things amiss are his unmade bed (and fuck if I don’t let my mind wander a little to how confident he looked striding down the street this morning) and the plants, dry and slightly wilted. That’s exactly why I don’t keep plants in my place. They always die.

  Still. Though I know it’s evidence I’ve been here—and I never like to leave a trace—I can’t help filling a glass with water in his shiny kitchen sink and pouring some into each of the plants I see. Then I take off. The longer I stay, the greater the chance someone will find me here.

  After a quick stop at the local thrift shop Jan’s Boutique, where I find an overpriced used leather jacket to replace my torn one, I spend the rest of the day sitting in front of Blink. People come and go. The only way I can see in clearly is through the etched-out letters in the frosted windows. Through the B and the L, I catch glimpses of Foster and a pretty blonde artist working.

  And I try hard not to fantasize about how it would feel to be stripped down. Lying flat. Waiting for the hot prick of pain when Foster began to mark my skin.

  Which is ridiculous and a monumental waste of time and brain power.

  Around five the other artist leaves, calling out to Foster as she exits. She’s got on a red tank top, and her arms are decorated in colorful swirls and designs. She’s tall and pretty, and as she disappears down the sidewalk, I idly wonder if she and Foster are fucking.

  The shop closes today at five—their one early day. It’s usually open till midnight. So when I see Foster’s shape through the blurry window, approaching the door and then locking it, I’m momentarily confused. He’s still working on someone, a petite brunette with a kick-ass body. But then I realize what’s going on.

  I know I should stay in my car. I can’t risk being seen. But a quick peek through the clear part of the window is all I want. This I need to see.

  I pull on my Bulls cap again and casually exit my car, pretending to belong exactly where I am and that I haven’t been sitting here all day long watching people come and go from a high-end tattoo shop in a shitty neighborhood.

  The street is mostly empty, and two teenage guys on cell phones check me out, nodding and grinning at each other as they walk past me. Normally I’d give them the finger, but right now I’m keeping a low profile. I cross the street at an angle, looking both ways not so much for cars as for people. I’m trying to look casual.

  The lights die in the studio. I lean up against the frosted window, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. It’s not a habit, but smokes are a good prop. An excuse to stand around pretending to do nothing.

  A single flame bursts from the lighter, and I inhale till the tip of the cigarette is bright orange in the darkening street. As I exhale, I turn my head so I’m peering into the darkened tattoo shop through the letter K’s long stem.

  Foster must know any passerby could peek inside. Maybe he’s part exhibitionist. Because there they are, only partly obscured by the supply table in front of the tattoo bed. The girl he was working on is sitting on it. From where I’m standing, I can see her legs wrapped around his hips. Her hands rake through his hair.

  His shirt is off already, and his muscled back ripples as he moves. Those biceps . . . My fingers twitch as I imagine how they’d feel, hard and strong and alive. His ripped jeans are pushed low, belt undone; I can see it dangling, the metal buckle glinting slightly even in the dark room.

  I realize I’ve caught them in the moment he’s about to enter her. His hand disappears in front of him, and I imagine it’s guiding his cock—which I’m positive is huge—into her soft wetness. His head falls back and his other hand grips the edge of the bed.

  For a second he holds the pose. I know that feeling. Just before it starts. The moment before bliss.

  And then he thrusts. I swear I can hear his belt buckle jangle through the locked front door and windows. It’s hard and fast. Her legs tighten around him, and though I can’t see either of their faces, I can imagine them: eyes closed, lips open in passion.

  Fuck. Never before have I gotten turned on during a stakeout. Of course, previously I’ve only tracked animals, not humans. And bestiality doesn’t do it for me. Marcus said Foster’s not human, but I find that impossible to believe. Especially now as I watch him thrust. Over and over. Hard. Fast.

  I take one more drag of my cigarette, then flick it into the distance, watching the orange sparks fly before heading back to my car.

  At first, Marcus wasn’t clear on what Foster is.

  “He’s not exactly human,” was what he said.

  “Fuck does that mean?”

  “Hard to say.” But he shifted his eyes in a weird way that made me think he wasn’t telling me everything.

  “What? Like a vampire? Shifter? What are we talking about, Marcus?”

  Marcus sighed, a long-suffering sound like I was bugging him about something. But I was only asking questions, questions for which I needed answers to do my job. “Look. I can’t tell you the details on this one. I just need you to follow him for a while. Figure out his habits. And then we’ll bring him in.”

  “Fuck that, Marcus. I need more information. How do you know about him? Who is he? If you don’t give me more data, I’m not going. You’ve never put me in danger before, and the main reason I’ve stayed safe is because you tell me everything I need to know. So tell me or I’m out.” I’d never talked to him like that before, but everyone has a limit.

  “All right.” He leaned across his desk and cleared his throat. “He’s a vampire. But more than a vampire.”

  “More than a vampire? What does that mean? Does he suck blood or not?”

  “He does. But there’s reason to believe he feeds off of the, well, essence of people as well.”

  I sat up straighter and frowned at him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “You’re extra sweary today, Thea, you know that?” Marcus looked tired, and I told myself to be nicer to him. Or at least to watch my mouth.

  “Sorry. Tell me about this creature.”

  “A colleague tipped me off to this creature—Foster’s—location and unique qualities. He’s been posing as a human for years, but he’s not one. He survives by feeding off blood, of animals, mostly, but we believe people as well. But he also gets energy from people’s souls, to speak rather unscientifically. I mean, the soul itself isn’t something we can prove actually exists. But this . . . Foster sucks the spirit out of people.”

  “I have no idea what that means, Marcus. Are you talking about a vampire that, what, drinks blood but also life?”

  “I know it’s confusing. I don’t even really understand. It’s not like anything we’ve seen before. And that’s why we need to bring him in. To see what he’s doing. What he is. How dangerous he could potentially be.”

  I shook my head. “But dude. A man. We’re not talking about a canine-like creature or a lizard or anything like that. This is a human. We can’t just kidnap a person because you want to study him!”

  “Except he’s not human.” Marcus sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and pleading with his eyes. “Thea, this is probably the most important project we’ve been involved in. This is . . . huge. Among other things, we need to figure out if there are more beings like him out there. You’ve been working with me for years now. I’ve never done anything to make you feel like you can’t trust me, have I?”

  I shook my head. As weird as this was, I was not only indebted to him, I knew him well enough to understand how seriously he took his work. But I’ve never had an easy time letting my guard down. And this was no exception.

  “We will not harm him. You have my word.”

  “I’ll track him. But I won’t promise to bring him in.” I crossed my arms over my ch
est and sat back in my chair, staring hard at Marcus. “Not to mention that if he’s posing as a human, people will notice if he’s gone. Friends. Family. We can’t just take someone.”

  “I know.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “So you might need to use alternate methods to get him to the lab.”

  “Alternate methods?”

  He shrugged. “Attract him with your sparkling personality.”

  “Fuck you, Marcus.” But I grinned. “You mean I’m supposed to make contact with him? What? Are you telling me to seduce him or something?”

  “I’m not telling you how to do your job, Thea.” Marcus leaned forward, as if that would impress upon me how serious he was. “Like I said, this is different from any project we’ve had. And this time, shooting the creature with a tranquilizer and locking it in a cage probably isn’t the best method. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “You’re the one who needs to tranquilize them,” I said under my breath. “Fine. I’ll look into this. But I am not making any promises.”

  The truth is, though, that I was excited. This new project? Like nothing I’d ever done before. And I like new challenges.

  “Thank you, Thea. And Leon, like usual, is at your disposal in case you need any more research. Keep me updated on whatever progress you make, however insignificant it seems. You won’t regret this.”

  So I began to track Foster Graham.

  3

  I dug Marcus from the first time I met him. Of course, I was desperate, and he came into my life when I had almost nothing else going for me. Out of the blue, and at the perfect moment.

  I’d studied biology, focusing on zoology, in college. I had no idea what sort of job I’d end up with, but I couldn’t resist the lure, the urge to learn more about animals, especially the few special ones I, and only I, had seen, like the deer with wings at my grandmother’s farm. Still, I’d told nobody about them. I knew people wouldn’t believe me, and it felt like the kind of secret I wanted to keep to myself a little longer.

  In graduate school, I began work on my thesis, gaining dubious permission from my advisor to write it on cryptids. The Loch Ness Monster. The Sasquatch. El Chupacabra. With a focus on the biology of related but real animals, the teacher overseeing me allowed me to pursue this course of study, but when she left the university suddenly, her replacement adamantly refused to allow me to continue. And I, being the stubborn person I am, refused to change gears.

  I dropped out of my master’s program, and was pretty much blacklisted from any university or research positions. I was looking for a job doing pretty much whatever: fast food, retail, anything I could find to pay for an apartment and groceries. Liquor too.

  Late one morning I was at a coffee shop, using the free Wi-Fi to search for jobs, when a stranger sat down across from me. His eyes sparkled, like he was glad—genuinely happy—to be in my presence. His weathered face expressed sincerity, the few wrinkles evidence, I thought, of lots of smiling throughout the years.

  “Theadora Ashcroft?” His deep, kind voice was infused with excitement as he stuck out his hand.

  “Yes?” I studiously avoided even looking at the offered handshake.

  “I’m Marcus Korr.”

  “Okay.” I turned back to my computer screen, hoping if I ignored him, he’d go away. There wasn’t necessarily anything wrong with him. I just hate making small talk with a passion, and even the fact that he knew my name didn’t interest me. Possibly he was hitting on me, but that wasn’t exactly the vibe I was getting. Probably just a weirdo stalker.

  “I have been following you, Theadora. Your master’s thesis . . .”

  My head snapped up, and I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

  His eyes widened, but to his credit his reaction was minimal. I wasn’t sure if he was holding back or just chill.

  “I loved it. Theadora, I . . .” He cleared his throat and glanced around, like he was about to reveal some secret information nobody else could hear about. “My life’s work is studying creatures like the ones you wrote about in your paper.”

  “How did you get my paper?” I hadn’t even graduated, so the paper hadn’t been published anywhere.

  “Your professor, Dr. Clyne. She sent me an early copy because she knew I’d be interested.”

  “Bitch.” What right did she have to send my paper to a stranger?

  “I own a lab. We study cryptids. I want you to work for me.”

  Now he had my attention. “How much?” I asked.

  Without hesitation he named a figure twice what I’d have made with the degree I never completed. Not enough to make me rich, but enough to live on. “I want you, Theadora. I need you. You have the intelligence and the, what is it? The sensitivity to work with cryptids.”

  “Wait. You actually have cryptids you work with?” I snapped my laptop shut as I stared hard at him now. “What do you have?” I didn’t trust him yet, but he’d definitely piqued my interest.

  “They’re still unnamed. Nothing famous or discussed in literature. Here, let me show you . . .” He pulled his phone out, flipping through a few screens until he turned it to me.

  I was looking at a photo of a creature I’d never seen before. A creature I didn’t know existed. It could be Photoshopped. It probably was.

  But as I sat there in the coffee shop at that moment, I knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If I didn’t take it, I’d wonder forever if it could have been legit.

  “Come to the lab with me.” His eyes were earnest, his expression pleading.

  Did I trust him? I never trust people. Never have. But something about him made me feel like I could go with him and be safe. Plus, I was fairly certain I could kick his ass. I’m small but tough. Scrappy. I’m a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and better at the shooting range than the people who work there. I’ve got my concealed carry license. And that day? I was carrying. Not to mention the knife I keep strapped around my right leg.

  “I’ll follow you.” I got up, shoving my laptop into my bag.

  “You will not regret this.” Marcus, though in his fifties, looked as happy as a little kid who’d just been given money for the ice cream truck on the hottest day of the summer.

  “We call it The Center. Kind of a generic name. Everything’s top secret, but Theadora . . .”

  “Thea.” I hate my full name.

  “Thea. I feel like you understand that. I know you won’t tell anyone about this. When you fill out the actual paperwork, there are the standard non-disclosure agreements, of course. But I don’t want to make you wait for that.”

  He led me down a hallway, where a few people in white lab coats greeted him, offering curious looks at me. I saw offices, rooms well equipped with what looked like gleaming, top of the line lab equipment. Nothing I hadn’t seen before.

  But when we entered the room down at the end of the hall, I could hardly breathe.

  Even without me focusing, my brain was in tune with the creatures before me. And there were two. The one I’d seen on Marcus’ phone was small, in a large glass tank, maybe a hundred gallons or so. It was filled with plants and rocks, dirt and condensation. But I could see the animal, like nothing that existed in any textbooks. I’d never seen anything like it.

  It stood up on two legs like a deer, its feet cloven, reminding me of that creature I saw so long ago on my grandmother’s farm. But its head was a lizard, a tongue darting out from time to time.

  I stepped closer to the tank, trying to get a better look through the condensation. The thing was about ten inches tall, and it alternated from crawling on the ground, using its lizard arms to pull itself forward, with walking on those strange furry hind legs.

  “Is it a mammal? Or reptile? Both?” I went closer still, and this time I allowed my mind to turn on just a little, to tune in. The high-pitched humming began, and its eyes focused on me. It felt me just as much as I felt it! It came right up close to the glass and stared, its expression strangely aware.

  “You have it.” Marcus’ voice was a whi
sper behind me. “I thought you would, but I wasn’t sure . . .”

  “Have what?” I tore my gaze away from the animal to look at him.

  “You can sense it, can’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and there was more than a little awe in his voice.

  “Sense what?” But I knew exactly what he meant. What I didn’t know was how he’d known it was true.

  “The creatures. Special animals. You can sense them.”

  Slowly I nodded. “I can.”

  He let out a low whistle. “I knew it. This job . . . that’s what I need your help with. Sensing. Tracking.”

  “If you can’t sense them, how did you get them?” I moved to the second cage, which was really more of an enclosure, at least ten feet by ten feet, with glass walls that ran all the way up to the ceiling. Natural flora provided an outdoorsy feel, and immediately I appreciated the time and money that had obviously gone into making sure the creature was comfortable.

  “We had someone like you. Someone who could sense and track. He helped bring these two in.” Marcus stood next to me, staring at the animal as it crawled over the dirt on its multitude of tiny legs. Resembling a millipede, its body was shiny and black, but it was gigantic, perhaps five feet long, and its face was mammalian. I’d never seen anything like it before. How could I pass up an opportunity like this?

  “Where’s he now?”

  “Who?”

  “The tracker guy.”

  “He left.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Got another offer. Moved out of state. Rather abruptly. Which is why I looked for you.”

  I nodded. “And what would I be doing exactly?”

  “Tracking cryptids and other unusual creatures.”

  “For what? What do you do with them?”

  “Let’s sit down.” Marcus led me to two chairs at a metal desk near the wall, where we could still see the animals but could talk as well. “I—we—study these animals. Some of them are dangerous to humans or pets or livestock. So I like to think we’re getting them off the street, keeping people safe while doing research.”