Now or Forever

by Jackie Ivie

  Now or Forever

  by Jackie Ivie

  A Vampire Assassin League Novella

  “We Kill for Profit”

  14th in series

  Copyright 2013, Jackie Ivie

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “What f-stop you using again, Griggins?”

  “It won’t matter what f-stop, what shutter speed, or even what lens, if we don’t get set up before zero dark thirty. Get a move on. We’re being paid for shots of Ta Prohm Temple. At dusk. They specifically want atmospheric and eerie. Looks like we got both. And by-the-way, it’s Len.”

  “Right. Len.”

  “It’s short for Leonard.”

  “Oh. Well, you better call me Stan, then.”

  “I thought your name was Roger.”

  “It is. Roger Stanislaw.”

  “Cute. And not expected. If you don’t mind my asking, who came up with that?”

  “You spend a lifetime in an eastern bloc army...you answer to what they call you.”

  “Stan works.” Len smacked at his thigh. “Bastard mosquitoes. Worse than any vampire can possibly be.”

  “I brought spray. 100% DEET. Here.”

  Stan tossed a can. Len tossed it right back. “Keep it.”

  “Why?”

  “Smell. It’s like a beacon. Besides, I think the bugs out here got weaned on the stuff. I’m seeing... eight o’clock. Second tier. I suppose you brought your tripod set-up?”

  “Eight o’clock. Got it. And I already told you, I never go anywhere without the tripod. Fits my new SLX with the f/4.0 lens. That way shutter speed isn’t an issue.”

  “Shutter speed is not going to be a problem, Stan. We’re filming an ancient, overgrown temple, not a sports event.”

  “Well. You never know. Action and movement might just happen. And I’ll be ready for it.” The man took a deep breath and coughed. “Shit. You were right about the DEET. Down and dirty.”

  “Exactly. And...look. There’s another great shot at two. Eagle.”

  Len watched Stan drop his duffle bag containing not only his tripod, but two long range rifles, assorted handguns, and ammo. Stan unzipped a section, got out a lens, and started scoping, supposedly for the best shot of the Ta Prohm Temple, one of the most unique temples in the Angkor Wat complex. And then a light rain began to fall, just to make things interesting.

  Angkor Wat. Cambodia. Fantastic place. According to the pamphlets, it was built in the twelfth century. Looked it. Supposedly the entire place was a map in stone of the mythological Hindu cosmos. It was meant as a heaven on earth, featuring corridors that ran for a half mile, every bit of them carved with deities from the Ramayana stories. Someone also said that interpreting the carvings and praying to the gods created an elixir of immortality.

  Hmm. All that work and everybody still died. Len shrugged. The builders of Angkor Wat had it wrong. They should have worked for the Vampire Assassin League. Immortality wasn’t an issue. It was in his future...when he was ready. And he got to visit unbelievably cool places. Like this one.

  Len had done a bit of brushing up on the place during the flight and hotel stay. It helped temper the droning voice of the audio course on Khmer language basics. He probably should’ve paid more attention. Then again, maybe he’d be lucky and everybody he’d run into would speak English. Of course, he could always talk to Stan, over there. But talking to Stan was exactly what it amounted to. Talk. And it was Len doing the talking. Stan was a closed book. No history. No interests. No life. This little camera jargon was the closest the guy came to small talk. That was the first he’d heard of the guy’s stint in an army.

  Maybe he was as good as Akron said.

  The pictures and video feed of Angkor Wat didn’t do it justice, either. The entire acreage exuded a mysterious quality, not just the Ta Prohm Temple, although it was the most picturesque. It was almost sacrilege to have the place overrun by Hunters. One was even perched atop the platform at the east gate. The one used by King Suryavarman II and his heirs. That platform was built so a rider could mount his elephant right from the stone. That was a wasted vigil but it told Len what he needed to know. The vampire’s lair wasn’t there. And they hadn’t found it yet.

  He and Stan were on assignment, all right. But it wasn’t to shoot photos. This came from the big guy, himself: Akron. It involved protecting one ancient vampire with a badass complex, from a shitload of Hunters. That’s what happened when said vampire drained the blood from a supposedly well-known German archeologist intent on this place...along with three of his team members. And since they were at a world heritage protected site, a 4D Team was the last option.

  Len hadn’t been given much information on this vampire, but he’d turned the page, unread, anyway. He’d get back to it after he learned the language – which was never. He’d rather meet a new vampire cold. Make up his own mind. Besides, a vampire was a vampire. Most of them arrogant as shit, bull-headed as hell, and completely immune to Len’s charm, or even his cute phrasing.

  So. Akron had called. He wanted this done with real humans. And here, Len was beginning to think Akron had shelved him, what with an extended vacation at Bora Bora, followed by weeks of tedium that Len called a life. It felt good to get back into the ring. He was also overseeing the new recruit, Stanislaw over there. Len watched the guy spin his lens, focusing on the roof containing one high perched Hunter. Stan was dressed in nondescript khaki slacks, an almost-matching shade of shirt and jacket, and a baseball cap. It was getting plastered to him with the rain. Len was a match, although his attire was black, and he’d foregone a hat. He was having the same issue with the heat and humidity. Everything stuck. Defined. He hadn’t wasted any of his off time on his butt. He’d been at the gym every day. He’d had to move up a t-shirt size because of it. Not Stan. Len hoped Stan had more to him than it looked. The guy was thin. Wiry. Hungry-looking. Then again, Len hadn’t much knowledge of eastern bloc army life.

  Back to the job at hand. The Hunters. They were absolute bastards. Zero compassion. And zero integrity. Len had learned that from his recent stint in Texas. He wasn’t interested in a replay of being in their hands. Wait a minute...

  Len sucked in on a cheek as if pondering light. There was another Hunter on the ground level, just inside the aperture their vampire probably used. He’d moved. Sneaky bastard. That made four of them at Ta Prohm. Another six in complexes he and Stan had walked through. Probably more in the ones they hadn’t visited. Some days it was a pure pleasure to eliminate them, especially as poorly as they staked a place out.

  Look at the first one Len had spotted. On their left at eight o’clock, second level. Terrible job of concealment. If you’re going to blend in with stone, you can’t wear green camouflage pants. The other one was on the flat rooftop, trying for the eagle eye view, but he forgot that in silhouette, butt and shoulders are easy to see. The fourth was doing a fairly decent job if he hadn’t moved. And then there was the hidden one. The one beneath the sod. Fantastic sniper location. Great disguise. Virtually invisible...if he hadn’t coated himself with DEET first.

  Some days, you just had to love a Hunter.

  Len wasn’t carrying a duffle bag. He preferred a backpack. It was heavy. Loaded. He walked to a certain spot on the stone where sod sh
ouldn’t be growing, unhooked his bag, and let it drop...to a satisfying crunch. He took one step backward, and – if he didn’t miss his guess – effectively stopped any crossbow action as the arrow was the casualty beneath his boot heel.

  “So...hey! We’re here. The House of Fire. Set your tripod up, already. Time’s wasting, Stan-the-man!”

  “On it.”

  Len bent and started rifling through his bag. Two nine mils. Four packed spare clips. An AK-47. Spare rounds. Grenades. Combat knife. Yep. There it was. Finally. His newly purchased camera. Len’s didn’t have a fancy f/4.0 lens, so he settled with an f/2.8. Heck, if he set his shutter speed at 1/100, he’d get the same shot as Stan using 1/50 speed. Or so, the camera expert at the counter had advised him.

  Wow. This place was really sweet. Eerie. Creepy. Atmospheric. And with the light rain falling, it added a nice layer of mist. That Hunter beneath the sod probably hated every second of it.

  “Gloomy place, yes?” Len said it as he hung the clips on his belt. Shuffled around in the bag some more. Palmed a 9mm, and then stuck it in his underarm holster. He stuck the other in the back of his belt, just above his jacket hem.

  “Double yes.”

  “Hey, Stan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Pass the repellent.”

  The guy looked over at him with raised brows. Len winked.

  “Okay.”

  The can sailed through the air, catching flicks from the last of the fading daylight, as well as a nice coating of rain. Len caught it with the left hand, and then stood, looping the camera strap over his head with his right and then hefting his camera. One handed. That camera expert guy was right. This was a great camera. It ought to be with that price tag. And it had an auto-focus. Point and shoot. Easy. Supposedly he’d have professional grade photos. And hell. He might as well get some picture taking in.

  That was a great shot of the House of Fire. Len held the button down and took repeating shots, stopping only when his finger got tired. This was definitely the place. The sun was just going down. Their vampire was going to awaken any second now. He started subconsciously shaking the insect repellent spray can. He planned on pegging the lower three Hunters, leaving the top one for Stan. And he was starting with the asshole beneath him.

  Wait...

  A shadow slithered around the stone, passing almost imperceptibly along the tree root of a silk-cotton tree. Or maybe that one was a strangler fig tree. Didn’t really matter. Most of Ta Prohm was covered in tree roots, leaving it in a permanent state of decay. On purpose. According to those pamphlets, that was exactly what they’d had in mind when they’d first started preserving and restoring the place.

  The shadow enlarged as a huge chunk of darkness loomed up a tree, gaining dimension and bulk at its base. He’d been wrong. This vampire didn’t come from the House of Fire. It was using the Hall of Dancers behind them. Shit. And if what he was seeing was accurate, this was one large vampire. No wonder they’d sent so many Hunters.

  Len pointed the spray can down at the sod and started spraying.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The reaction was immediate and expected, although Sodman was a bit lankier than Len expected. It wasn’t much of an issue. He was doubled-over, coughing and hacking, and a scissor-kick later, he was flat on his back, with his nose kicked into his brain, pretty much silent. The move even saved Len from a headshot, although the bullet grazed the top of his ear, cauterizing as it went. It stung, but it was better than the alternative.

  They were using silencers, too. Good. No reason to alert anyone, like Cambodian authorities, or other Hunters. Which did mean they probably had other ways of signaling for help. But that would take time, and they weren’t getting any. Len dove onto the ground, pulling the back 9mm as he went, rolled, and then nailed the idiot in green camo pants right in the forehead. Laser sights were a decided plus in this, too.

  A thud somewhere to his right was Eagleman landing ungracefully. A glance proved that. Which left the guy hidden in the gloomy aperture. Len wasn’t sure Stan had even seen him, but the vampire certainly did. Akron had been specific with his description of this vampire. The bastard was vicious. And a complete badass. Dark spurts of liquid that were probably arterial spray shot out in heartbeat rhythm from where the man used to be standing. Len couldn’t quite make out the vampire. Laser sights had their limits, and an instant after his red light touched a dark form, Len got lifted and slammed against one of the temple walls. That hurt, and then it got hard to breathe as debris mixed with rain fell onto his head.

  “Wait! I’m on your side!”

  His voice was an octave higher than normal. He was surprised it worked. And Akron was a non-specific asshole. The entire enclave at VAL was probably having a huge laugh over this. This wasn’t a guy. This was one, smoking hot, vampire chick. Len got an eyeful before she hissed, letting him see a nice set of blood-coated fangs.

  “Wait! Your side! Me. You. Uh...him.”

  It was easy to gesture. She had him by the ribcage so his arms were free. He wasn’t at all sure where Stan was, so he sent a vague finger-point to his last location. But something had stopped her from making Len her next meal. He watched as she tipped her head, sending a slide of black hair over her shoulder. She had glossy, straight hair. Lengthy. He couldn’t see where it ended. He didn’t dare move his eyes to check. It was probably pitch black. As were her eyes. Really black. And she had some killer lashes, too. Figures. Len was looking at his private wet dream come to life, and he’d never even told anybody. Shit. It didn’t get much worse.

  She pursed her mouth covering fangs with lush lips that were shaded a deep, red color. They gleamed as if she’d just applied wet gloss. And dang! She had one kissable pout.

  Okay. It was getting worse.

  Len swallowed and tried again, this time using newly-learned Khmer words. “Friends. You. Me. Us.”

  Stan started laughing. The vampire scrunched her brows and brought her head back upright. Len should have paid more attention to the Khmer language course.

  “What did I say?” Len hissed.

  “Something about restrooms and rice.”

  “You speak Khmer?”

  “Some.”

  “Then you tell her! And before I lose blood flow to my dick. Okay?”

  “You could just show her your tat.”

  Oh great. Stan was an asshole, too. He didn’t say much, but when he did it was accurate. Smart. Pointed. And if he hadn’t chuckled through it, he wouldn’t be such an asshole. Len flipped him off before catching his jacket collar and t-shirt and yanking the right shoulder off and down. He probably should’ve opted for putting the tat on his wrist. Or a pec. Or even his neck, where it would be easily visible...but no. He’d wanted a full shoulder design. And that meant he had to pull and rip material, but it was the t-shirt collar that got damaged, and he’d only paid a buck forty for it at the dollar store in the first place. No sense wasting good fashion on a hunt. He let the vampires do that.

  He watched her flick a glance to the VAL tattoo on his shoulder, and damn everything, if it didn’t look like her eyes widened for a bit before she looked back at him. And then she licked her lips. Len couldn’t stop the jerk his body made. All he could do was bluster his way around it, but before he even started, she spoke. And with a voice so vast and soul-sapping, it felt like even the rain stopped to listen.

  “You’re with the Vampire Assassin League?”

  “Yeah. Special Ops. And—what the hell? You speak English?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you say so?”

  “I just did.”

  “I mean earlier.”

  Uh oh. She was leaning toward his bared shoulder, sending his skin into all sorts of antics, and that included gooseflesh. She had her nose just beneath his jaw. This was insane. Len had prior and vast knowledge. Eight years of it. Vampires didn’t breathe. And they were cold. But he could swear his skin was feeling heat. And air. And all sorts of other
stimuli.

  “What’s a dick?”

  Funny she should ask that. Right now, it was getting all sorts of signals he wasn’t sending, and making him wish he’d worn silk boxers and sweats, rather than cotton bum-huggers and twill slacks. Shit. Things were about to go places he didn’t ever go. Not with a vampire. He’d seen them in action too many times. He wasn’t remotely interested. N. O. Besides, he was only thirty-two years old. Forty sounded early enough to worry about wrinkles and aging and dementia... especially when the cure included blood-sucking reality.

  And that meant he needed to get his mouth in gear and start blustering. Double time. He’d start with Stan and his snorts that were withheld laughter. Len preferred the guy’s silence.

  “Shut up, Stan. It isn’t funny.”

  “You want me to tell her?”

  “No. I want you to start gathering gear, and then check for collateral damage.”

  “Collateral damage?”

  “Yeah. Historic preservation-type damage. You know. Bullet holes in the rocks. That sort of thing.”

  “I hit everything I aimed at.”

  “No shit. Me, too. But I haven’t met a Hunter yet that was accurate.”

  “Oh. Right. Where you going?”

  “Well. Little Miss vampire here, is going to lower me back to the ground. And then we’re going to find her lair...and slow down there, sister. We don’t have time for a midnight snack.”

  “Midnight snack?” she queried.

  Damn! She would have the most astonishing voice. The most amazing eyes. One hell of a kissable mouth. And he really had to get his brain working.

  “Later. Maybe. And that’s a big maybe. In the meantime, we gotta get you relocated.”

  “But this is my home.”

  “Not anymore it isn’t.”

  “And you are going to use what army to move me?”

  Great. He didn’t just have a gorgeous, babe, vampire chick to handle. He had one who sent all kinds of unsolicited vibes his way and then topped it with arguments. All of that should cancel out the rampant testosterone overload he was experiencing. Or, at least make it manageable. He gestured over her shoulder at the grounds.