by April Zyon
* * * *
Emily Donovan looked up from her crossword when the door to the shop was pushed open. A groan all but surfaced as she took in the look of the two men and sighed. Lifting an elegant hand to the duo, she murmured, “Over here.” Quickly she put away the puzzle and tugged on her gloves. After all, she knew what they wanted.
Not bothering to get up, she looked up at them through her lashes and took their measure. This was a last straw for them. She could tell that when the first man flipped open his badge and said simply, “Emily Donovan?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m Emily.”
She watched them watching her, as if trying to figure her out, and smiled. “I take it that my assistance is needed?” Good grief, did she hate saying those words. She hated her particular “gift” … if one could call it that. She hated knowing that she could find and track a killer with the touch of a finger to the weapon. She couldn’t give a name and address. Instead she saw the surroundings through the killer’s eyes and had a kind of built-in radar, so to speak.
“Ms. Donovan, we need for you to come with us. There’s a—” Thick neck, dark glasses, short and squat. Emily had his number before he even opened his mouth.
“You have a situation,” she provided.
“Yes, ma’am. Now, if you will.” He gestured toward the gleaming, black sedan parked out front.
“I’ll be perfectly happy to come with you.” She hesitated and added, “But I’ll take my own way in and out. I’ve been held at your mercy before and won’t be again.”
“Ma’am, we’ve never seen you before,” Skinny and Pale answered her.
Ahh, here’s the smart one. Turning, she smiled sweetly, smooth, honey tones dripping from her lips as she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, put her arms on the table, and faced them once more. Her deep, brown gaze pierced him as she said, “When I say held at your mercy, I mean the agency, not you personally.” She purred the words.
“You have no idea what agency we work for,” he retorted. “Besides, it’ll be safer for you if you ride with us. It only makes sense.”
Shrugging nonchalantly, she looked at her nails. “It’s all alphabet soup to me, but I suggest that you make sure to let your bosses know that I have said, ‘thank you, but no thank you.’” She knew that she should help them, and she would, if they came back. Right now, however, there was something off about all of this. They were pushing her too hard to ride with them, something she’d sworn never to do again.
Standing, she looked at both of them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I was just about to close shop and go have a nap.” She hadn’t been, but she needed time to think. She had to figure out what the hell was happening. They had never been so adamant before. Ever.
She waited, seemed to be in a standoff, and turned around. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “I suggest you leave before I release Elmer Fudd.” She heard them snorting and shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Oh, and before you ask…” She smiled sweetly as she stopped at a door beside the staircase. A loud growl and hiss sounded. “Yes, I do have an exotic animal permit.”
With that, she opened the cage and reached in. “Hello, Elmer Fudd,” she crooned as she pet the large head of the very, very angry jaguar. “Will you please show Steroid and Geek to the door?” She stepped back and let the sleek, black jaguar stalk by her. His golden eyes were glowing as he watched the two men. He licked his lips and let out a singular warning.
Shaking her head as the duo left the shop, she walked to the door, pulled the blinds after putting up the closed sign, and frowned. She turned the lock and sighed. “Evacuating themselves mid run is going to be lovely for them,” she murmured, then headed upstairs, her hand moving slowly over the banister. “Elmer Fudd, can you please make sure that I’m not bothered?” The answering growl made her smile, and nodding her head, she added, “Yes, you may.”
He had somehow learned to open the lower part of the fridge in the back of the shop. Since Emily had learned that, she kept meaty snacks in there only for him, which he could dine on while she was resting.
“Good night, my old friend,” she whispered as she approached the second-floor landing, then turned to go into the singular bedroom above the coffee shop. She proceeded to strip so that she could actually sleep, because she had a feeling she was going to need to be as well rested as possible far too soon.
Emily reached out and stroked her fingers over the Bible on the bedside table. It wasn’t hers but the previous owners’. She felt in it the history, the men and women who had touched it over the years. She felt and saw the past through their long-dead eyes. There was love, and there was laughter, but under it all was also hatred and evil.
While there had been good people who had held that Bible over the years, there were also those who’d been far less so. Those who had held the Bible to give reason to the murders they had committed. Emily knew that was why the alphabet soup agencies and the police all came to her—because she could see and feel things others could not.
Closing her eyes, she found herself drifting off into sleep.
* * * *
Another one! Oh, life was truly glorious.
The shadow listened in and tsked once more at the words that fell from the angry father’s mouth. No one should ever allow such filth to pollute the air. That’s why what they did was so important. It was paramount that they rid the world of the vile and disgusting! No child should ever be subjected to the brutal mistreatment that this child, Freddy, was being subjected to. No, it was time for justice to prevail and for the world to be rid of another monster.
“I can’t fucking believe you, Freddy! What a fucking prick!” the man shouted at the child. “What are you? A fucking retard?” The anger in his voice carried, the words far more destructive than the hand grabbing Freddy’s upper arm. The figure didn’t miss the way the kid’s eyes had that haunted look about them.
The man dragged Freddy across the road. The hatred and anger all but flowed off him as he did so. Each inch covered was another shout, another scream, and even more cursing.
The child’s cries tore through the air. The neighbors in the small cul-de-sac simply watched as the man slapped Freddy and cursed at him again. “Your fucking mom should have killed you before you were fucking born! Now, you’re going to cost me not only for the replacement window, but you and your little shithead friends have lost my signed ball. You little idiots. When I get my hands on those little shits, I’m going to beat their asses, too. Morons, each one of you.”
He pulled the child kicking and screaming into their house. The door shut behind them, but not before everyone saw the father’s large paw rising to hit Freddy’s face.
“Oh, yes. I’ll be doing the world a favor by getting rid of you,” the figure said softly, then went back into the garage and began to hum, a slow and steady purr as his heavily gloved hands began to work on the next masterpiece.
Oh, this one would be a true delight. This would leave the cops wondering just how the foul-mouthed beast had died. Ah yes, this weapon was amazing and the methods that had been perfected could now come into play. It was only fitting that someone who had once been a friend would be the first to experience this beautiful masterpiece. It was only fitting that the betrayal the figure had felt at the first drops of the swearing at the child was repaid with this glorious new ice piece that he had only just completed.
Buzzing along with brutal madness, the master began to craft. A long and sharp rod—not a blade—that he would slip between the C3 and C4 vertebrae of the monster that was polluting the very air that they breathed. Looking up and seeing the time, the figure placed the weapon lovingly into the deep freezer, surrounded by ice. A gleeful cackle split the air.
It was dinnertime. A time to reconnect with the true joys of life, a time to submerse oneself in the sheer pleasure that could only be found with those that felt the same way. The ones that were pure light. The ones that would never utter such foul and offensive words.
After wiping his hands on white linen pants, there was a turn made, and a sweet smile split the face of the figure that coworkers and neighbors knew as friend. As a person that they all looked up to, that they could all turn to in a moment of need.
A visage that hid the face of a deadly killer.
Plans were being made. Wonderful, beautiful plans. It was time for the monster that dared to hit a child and swear so violently to be made aware of just what the price was for the vulgarity that he spewed. No one should ever be forced to listen to the words of the beast. There was a reason for beings such as himself—they were placed upon the land to rid humanity of the sins of impropriety.
* * * *
“We’ve found another one. Psychic.” Helen Miramar turned in her seat to look at their leader, Mercury. “The feds just tagged her as a high-priority asset.”
The look on Mercury’s face told the story that everyone in the high-tech office knew—if the feds tagged you as an HPA, then they wanted something from you. You had something the general populace didn’t. And that typically gave them a lead to one of the vestal virgins.
“Are you certain?” This had Mercury’s attention, undivided and laser pointed at her. “Are you sure it isn’t just another ruse?”
“As certain as you buying me another vintage tee.”
“Again?” He brushed his hands through his short blond hair in frustration as he studied his tech guru. If she was betting a vintage T-shirt—she loves those stupid things—then she had found what they were searching for. “All right.” He turned. “A vintage it is. Give me the deets on her.” Lingo. He had been alive so long that phrases came and went, and he knew them all.
Helen swiped her hands over the glass surface of the desk, pulling up the information found on the woman in question. “She’s been tagged not only by the FBI but also by the other alphabet agencies, as well as local law enforcement. What’s really funny is that she has an exotic pet license. I guess that would explain why there have been numerous notations about a cat nipping at the agents. At first, I assumed it was a tabby. Oh, no. It’s a freaking jaguar. At least the woman has taste.
“She’s single and lives alone over the coffee shop that she runs during the daytime. She’s been brought in on the toughest cases and somehow, someway, always finds a thin thread that leads to the killer. She’s also been approached by people on the other side of the law, and from all accounts…” Helen slid the screens so that the info was front and center, “she’s sent them on their merry way. It’s said that there’s a shrink in town who gets a lot of business because of kitty-cat fear.”
“So, she is one of the missing? Could be that she’s one of the original lines?” Mercury asked and reached out after putting on the special glove that would allow him to scan through the files. “Dating back to the VV’s?”
“Could be.” Helen pulled up what she could on the bloodline. “She has no record of birth, so it would take a blood test to find out if she belonged to one of the lines of the thirteen vestal virgins.” The goddess herself had blessed those lines, and the women were every bit as powerful as the men that Mercury found and imbibed with power via the medallions.
“I want everything on her.” Mercury was flipping screen to screen, but stopped. “Who’s closest to her?” he asked with a frown. “She’s too far for me to get to her fast enough, so who’s closest?” Besides, the goddess tended to get bitchy when he went out, mostly because he tended to get shot or stabbed when he did. It never failed.
“Looks like it is going to be…” Helen paused and scanned, then cursed. “Damn. Well, you so aren’t going to like this, boss,” she told him softly.
“Just tell me, dammit.” His blood pressure began to rise.
“It’s Gaius.” Just saying the man’s name made Helen shiver. “Never in my life have I met a more aloof and terrifying man than him. And that’s saying something. I’ve been around the block and back a time or two, but he scares the bejesus out of me.”
Helen was thirty years old and a master hacker. Mercury had found her when she was only twelve because she had hacked into his mainframe. From that moment on, she had worked for him.
She’d come a long way since then—no longer the dirty and raggedy teen that Mercury had saved from the streets. Hacking had been a way to put food in her belly and a roof over her head, but now Mercury was proud to provide her with those in exchange for her loyalty. She wasn’t a vestal virgin, but she was a friend to the cause and always would be.
“Fuck,” Mercury swore, then began to curse in many different languages, some that Helen must recognize and others about which she would not have the first clue. Gaius was dominant with a capital D, and though Mercury didn’t necessarily disagree with his preferences, he wasn’t sure how one of the vestal virgins would take to it.
Chapter Three
Shaking off the last vestiges of the dream that held him in its grasp, Gaius Alexander rubbed his hands to his face. He sat on the side of the bed, then ran his fingers through his short, ink-black hair and stood. Padding on silent feet to the large French doors, he tossed them open and walked naked onto the marble balcony that faced the rear of his property. Hands braced on the balustrade, he surveyed the land that he owned, the small piece of paradise that he had earned through sweat, hard work, and blood.
Even with all that he had endured and survived, the nightmares still wouldn’t leave him alone and plagued him night after night. Lifting his face to the moon, he looked over the perfectly manicured grounds with the pristine white marble busts of the original vestal virgins. All were women who were far more than what they seemed on the surface. Goddesses, as his people had seen them, one and all. He smirked, wondering just what history would think if he told them the truth of matters.
Before he blew his cover, or at least the cover that he was sane, and called up the History Channel to offer an in-depth interview with none other than Caligula, he was saved by the ringing of his phone.
“What.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a statement. It was more of a snarled command. The demand of a man that had led others in battle and come out the victor. It was the voice of a man that dared any to screw him around.
“Where?” he asked. When he was told, he growled, “I got it.” His words were low and almost menacing as he shut down the call.
Walking to his closet, Gaius pulled out his clothing. Specially treated leathers went on first. He shrugged into a silk shirt, tucked it in, then opened the second closet door. Looking over the cache of weapons, he chose ones that would fit inside of the particularly made holders on his pants, ones that no one would be the wiser of unless they were running their hands over him very intimately. Which, since he was not in the mood for play, wasn’t happening. After he strapped the weapons onto his body, he pulled out his cell phone and scanned the full workup that Helen and Mercury had created for the woman.
Then Gaius stepped into his shit-kicker boots, complete with steel toes and switchblades that he could trigger with a simple movement. Grabbing his long sword, he put it into the holder on the back of his leather jacket and was off, long strides taking him through his darkened home. A click of a remote had his weapons closet closing and locking with ease.
In the garage, he looked at the available vehicles and decided to go for speed and protection. As much as he would love to take his bike, he knew that, in this instance, an actual car would be necessary. He had been riding a horse since the day he had been born, but Gaius found that he definitely enjoyed vehicles. The European ones were his favorite for speed, but this had to be more than that. He climbed into the heavily armored SUV and started toward the destination—the shop of the little human who seemed to be on the radar of
far too many people.
Once he got started on the road, Gaius began to think about the woman he was going to retrieve. There was something about her that called to him. Even now, he found himself pulling out his iPhone and staring at an image of the beauty. There was something ethereal about her.
His thumb stroked over her ebony locks, and he found himself wanting to lose himself in her expressive, brown eyes.
He stopped the SUV. He looked at her again and let out a breath. If he didn’t know better, he would swear that she was his. He had seen it happen before. Had seen some of his brethren falling to the charms of their vestal virgins, and now he worried that would be him. Gaius enjoyed being single. He enjoyed being able to sleep with who he wanted, when he wanted.
Gaius began to think of the other warriors that he had known who had found their other halves, their mates. He groaned. Son of a bitch, I’m mooning over a woman I’ve never met.
He felt his cock harden at just the thought of sliding into her silken pussy. There was no way she was his. He knew he would never be so blessed by the fates and that no woman would ever be so cursed.
* * * *
When Emily woke, she knew that times were changing. From her bed, she looked out the large window at the clear, early morning sky and rubbed her temples. It was still dark out, and moonless, a day where things that shouldn’t exist walked the earth. She knew it just as she knew by touching a weapon or dead body just how the victim had died and a general idea of who and what the killer was. She was different.
Dressing in a pair of jeans, undershirt, and oversized sweater, she pulled on her boots before putting her hair up in a high ponytail. Today was going to be one of those days where she was going to need to be able to go at a drop of a hat. It was part and parcel of being the person that she was. A woman that far too often felt what was coming, even if she didn’t see it.
