by K. Webster
A car blares its horn as it passes, sending a wave of water splashing across my front. It’s annoying, but not uncommon. I don’t drive because I never learned how, so instead, I walk wherever I can and Uber anywhere that’s too far.
And then there’s Prudence.
Prudence is a little old lady with…abilities.
Let’s just say Prudence can get me anywhere in a flash.
Once I make sure I won’t get plowed by angry Manhattan drivers, I dash across the street to Headquarters. I have a meeting with Jude that I can’t miss. Aside from being my boss who sends me on his varying missions, he’s also one of my few friends.
I flip the hood of my poncho off the moment I’m under the safety of the covered doorway. The building is nondescript. An outsider would never know that E.V.I.E.’s mission is a dark one.
Eliminate vampiric influence everywhere.
I’ve been a slayer for this organization since I turned eighteen a year ago, though I’d been a thorn in Jude’s side back when he was simply a recruiter and I was a teen in desperate need of an ally. Rather than kicking me to the curb, he pulled me under his wing and kept me on the right path until he could properly recruit me. Fast forward to now and he’s director of E.V.I.E. while I’m one of his most badass slayers.
“Where you headed to in a hurry?” a deep voice rumbles, making me jerk to a stop once I’m inside the building.
I let my gaze roam over the man, quickly assessing him. Human. Based on the power that seems to ripple from him, I’d say he’s a recruiter. Has that same aura about him Jude does. Same swagger too. They’re all the same. Playboys with attitude problems. This guy seems young—late twenties or early thirties—so he might grow up one day to be half as good as Jude.
“Mind your business, Recruiter,” I grind out, passing him without a sideways glance.
The creep follows me onto the elevator. I mash the button to Jude’s floor and ignore his brooding presence.
“If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t speak to me that way. You’d respect me,” he states, his voice trembling with barely controlled fury.
I know guys like these.
The ones who like to intimidate to make them feel better about themselves and their mediocre dicks.
“Likewise, buddy,” I snap, pushing past him the moment the doors open.
He grabs my arm, stopping me.
A growl rumbles from nearby.
“Oh, James,” Jude says, not looking up from his desk. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
My baby rounds the corner, his black hair standing on end, eager to destroy anyone who hurts me. I jerk my arm out of James’s hold and reach into my pocket for my gift for Hades.
“Come here, boy,” I croon, crouching and holding the soaking wet sock up for Jude’s beloved dog. “Come see Casti.”
For a dog who looks like he crawled out of the depths of Hell—complete with red eyes and smoking nostrils when he sleeps—he’s quite the charmer. He licks the rain off my face and whines happily when I offer him the sock.
Hades loves socks.
“You spoil him, Casti,” Jude calls out. “Hades, leave her alone.”
James starts forward and Hades stops him with a snarl. I pop back up to my feet, scratching behind Hades’ ears. “He wants an apology.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jude grumbles.
“An apology for what?” James challenges, his menacing body looming over mine.
“For touching me. For speaking to me like I’m some bitch who belongs to you,” I say in a saccharine tone. “Best you do it and get it out of the way. Otherwise he’ll hold a grudge forever.”
“For-fucking-ever,” Jude agrees.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” James hisses. “I’m not apologizing to a damn dog.”
Hades drops the sock out of his mouth and growls, the rumble frightening enough to make your skin crawl. Not mine. He loves me and would never hurt me.
“Fine,” James snaps. “Sorry, mutt. Sorry for being a dick.”
Hades starts wagging his tail, scoops up his sock, and trots away. I smirk at James before I walk over to Jude’s desk. James takes a seat, but I make my way around the desk to hug Jude. Jude’s like the older brother I never had. Protective but also a pain in my ass. I love him nonetheless.
“How’s Mercy?” he asks, accepting my hug and giving me an affectionate pat to my ass.
“Insufferable,” I tease. “There is something I want to talk to you about, though.” I glare at James. “Later.”
Jude and I share a weighted look.
“Stay after and we’ll chat. For now, have a seat so we can get started,” Jude instructs.
I yank off my poncho and toss it onto the floor. James makes a blatant show of checking out my body. Sure, I’m like any other woman who prefers her sweatpants and oversized T-shirts, but it’s hard to kill vampires if you get tangled up in your clothes. My clothes are practical and efficient, albeit tight. I don’t twitch or squirm under his perusal, and instead arch a brow at him.
His anger toward me thaws as heat flickers in his gaze. With my poncho, I look like a little girl considering I rarely wear makeup and have a young face. But my body is another story. I have nice breasts at a full C-cup, but not big enough to be a nuisance. My body is trim with tight, sinewy muscles that were hard earned by night and weekend training with Jude, long before I came to work for him.
Before I was a slayer, I had other demons to slay.
And not the kinds that slip out of the portals and start shit from time to time.
The real kind.
Humans.
Jude taught me how to defend myself when I was just fourteen. I was weak and at my physical lowest point, but I also had more than just myself to think about.
“If you’re done checking out Casti’s tits, I want to talk about the Castlerocks.” Jude tosses a file on the desk. “Leroy Castlerock and his little brother Mikey run this pool hall a few blocks over.”
“Bloodsuckers?” James asks, an annoyed clip in his tone.
“Nope. But they’re friends with them. They’re running an illegal operation in the basement. Basically scrounging up willing homeless people to bathe, dress, and turn into human vending machines.”
“And this applies to me how?” James leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m a recruiter, not a psycho slasher. I have skills that require me to locate the best of them,” he says, cutting his eyes my way, “and deliver them to you.”
I roll my eyes. All recruiters started as slayers and he’s acting like we’re a shitty profession.
Jude scrubs his palm over his scruffy face and leans back in his chair. I always wished I were attracted to him. He’s tall, handsome, intelligent. Protective as they come to the ones he cares about. Despite our age difference, I figure we could have made a go at it. I would’ve probably dropped my guard for someone like him.
But he’s like a brother.
A father figure even.
Thinking about sleeping with him gives me the heebie-jeebies.
“The kid, Mikey,” Jude states, “he’s smart and fast. A quick thinker. Knows a thing or two in the martial arts. I think, with his knowledge of the underground vampire thugs, he’d be a key informant too.”
James groans. “Fucking great. So what? I’m supposed to convince this prick to quit his day job to prance around with chicks like teenage Buffy here?”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
“And if this is just a recruiting mission, why am I needed?” I ask, wondering what Jude’s angle is.
“Intel says there’s a nest of about twelve who frequent there as customers. Nasty sonsofbitches.” Jude shrugs. “Right up your alley, cupcake.”
I flip him off. “Thanks.”
“Oh, I get it now,” James drawls out. “She has this kid sister vibe rolling off her hard, which means you don’t want her to die. You want me to get my hands dirty and protect the little girl.”
Jude snorts out a laugh. “Man, I’m sending her to protect you.”
James stiffens and I shrug.
“I’m going for a smoke if we’re done here. I’ll wait five minutes and then I’m leaving your ass,” James warns, rising from his chair.
“Asshole,” I mutter when he’s not quite out of earshot.
Jude smirks and pulls the file back over to him. “What’s eating you up?”
“Oh God,” I groan. “I have a huge problem at home. Like massive.”
His features grow serious. “Mercy?”
I nod, frowning.
“Is she…” He trails off, making my heart sink.
“No,” I choke out, blinking back tears. “She’s fine right now. It’s just…” I shudder. “What do you know about bats?”
“Like baseball bats?”
“No, like spooky, creepy, go bump in the night bats.”
“Literally nothing,” he deadpans. “Why?”
“Mercy found a bat last night. It was injured and she wants to nurse it back to life. I read up online and all the websites have to offer is that bats are horrible pets. Which I already know. Doesn’t change the fact Nurse Mercy wants to heal it. It’s in no shape to be out on its own.” I sigh. “It’s going to die and she’ll be devastated.”
“Most normal people just get a puppy or a cat.”
“We’ve already established I’m not normal, Jude.”
“If you had given in like I suggested, maybe she’d be happy with her dog and not be seeking out pets in the alley.”
“Not every dog is like Hades. They’re work and I work too much to care for one.”
He chuckles. “Sorry about your situation. You’ll figure it out, kid. Make sure James doesn’t get his ass killed.”
“Would it really be a shame if he died?” I mutter.
“He’s a great recruiter.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep him alive. Get me some juice on bats, though, or we’re going to have one extremely upset little girl on our hands.”
“I’ll call around. Give Mercy a kiss from Uncle Jude.”
“I owe you.”
“You always say that.”
“Because I always do.”
“Not everything requires repayment, Casti.”
“No, but family looks out after each other.”
It’s the first time I’ve verbally acknowledged what he means to me. His lips purse together like he’s pissed off, but that’s just Jude. He’s not so great at showing his emotions either.
“Be nice to my baby boy over there,” I state as I stand. Hades barks. “See you soon.”
“Bye, kiddo.”
Castilla
“If we get in there and you can’t handle yourself,” James says as we stalk through the rain toward our destination, “I’m leaving you behind.”
I roll my eyes. “A noble gentleman, I see.”
“The only thing noble about me is my dick, sweetheart, and sorry to break your teenage heart, it’s only into mature women with hair between their thighs.”
Fucking gag.
I hate douchebags like him.
Like Griffin.
A shudder trembles through me, but I ignore it. I won’t allow Griff to get inside my head. Not while at work. He does enough of that all the other times of the day. As we walk, I pat my leather, fitted vest to make sure my ruby stakes are secure and ready to use.
These two stakes are the only thing I have left of him.
Laurent.
I nearly died when I was five years old. Not from being a vampire snack. No, I nearly starved to death. By the time the landlord realized the rent check wasn’t getting paid, they let themselves in to discover the bodies of my baby brother and mother.
He murdered them, they said.
Locked me in a trunk because he couldn’t bear to kill me too, they said.
I was a miracle, they said.
Because while the bodies of my family rotted for fifteen whole days, I lived. Doctors and scientists poked and prodded for far too long, pondering over that mystery. The entire event traumatized my five-year-old self into silence. I couldn’t retell what had happened, not because I couldn’t remember, but because it was too painful.
Now that I work for Jude and have seen all kinds of weird, paranormal shit, I know it was the trunk that nourished me. Whenever I was on the brink of dehydration or starvation, the wood would glow with pretty gold etchings. It brightened my dark hell for those few moments. The hunger pains would fade. I’d no longer be dizzy. Just more time cramped in the confined space with a tiny crack of air to breathe from.
It wasn’t until I’d moved into the foster home that the two ruby stakes that had long since been confiscated by the police, appeared like magic on my pillow. I’ve kept them hidden and in my possession ever since, knowing they were the only tie I had left to my past. Jude looked into it once when I asked him about it to see how they came to appear, but he came up empty-handed.
When in my grip, though, they glow with the same markings I now know to be the Northern European Elder Futhark Runes. Like the trunk did, the stakes seem to strengthen and invigorate me. Jude did reveal to me what the markings meant.
Uruz. Life force, health, vigor, strength.
Algiz. Protection, healing, spirituality, higher self.
Tiwaz. Victory, justice, balance, sacrifice, fairness.
Somehow, they connected themselves to me. They found their way to me. The ruby stakes belong to me. One of Jude’s contacts, a historian from another realm, explained that the stakes were comprised of ruby infused with the blood of Christ and splinters of the cross He died upon. It pleases me to be a vessel for a higher being to destroy the evil on this earth.
Mercy be thy way.
I trip over a crack in the sidewalk, earning a snort from James. It’s jolting and reminds me I can reminisce later tonight in bed. Now’s the time to focus.
“Right there,” I say, pointing to a flickering white neon cue ball. “Stay behind me.”
“Please, girl, don’t insult me. I’ve beheaded men for less.”
I grab his bicep. He snarls at me, his dark eyes flashing with fury.
“Behead me later, douchebag. Just let me go first.” I release him and frown. “We don’t have to be enemies.”
“I’m not going to fuck—”
“And I don’t want you to. Jesus. Can we call a truce until we accomplish our mission?”
He narrows his eyes, clenching his jaw, but nods. “Fine. We get in, we watch each other’s backs, and we get out.”
“Great, now let me do the talking.”
And by talking, I mean kick some ass.
I fling open the glass door and scan the space filled with people, looking for the taller ones. The stronger ones. The ones who thrum with power and salivate with their never-ending thirst.
Leroy and Mikey are apparently smart because no one fits the bill. I walk right up to the bar and slap my hand on the surface.
“Where are the Castlerocks?”
The bartender laughs. “Get out of here, kid. You’re not old enough to be in here.”
James grabs my shoulders, moving me out of the way, and leans forward. His wrath ripples from him. “We have a meeting. Take us to the basement, chap, or I’ll send all your patrons home with missing teeth. Don’t try me, fucker.”
Whatever creepy-ass vibe James puts off, it clearly freaks out the bartender. It’s annoying, but it gets the job done. I do wonder, though, about my recruiter partner for the evening. Are his terrifying vibes another version of glamour? Could this massive guy be a vampire disguised as an asshole?
I’m tempted to poke him with my stake, but think better of it.
Jude would whip my ass if I killed his grumpy recruiter. Besides, it’s not unheard of to have vampires who slay their own kind. In fact, we have quite a few of those sprinkled amongst our ranks, though not everyone is privy to that information. Not every vampire is evil.
He’s not.
/>
Pain squeezes my heart. Terrible timing. I can’t afford to hope that somehow Laurent is a friendly vampire. Hell, no vampire is exactly friendly. The ones I have to work with are tolerable at best. Loey’s the only one I consider a real friend, but that girl’s on a death mission. She’s definitely different than most.
However, Laurent is just like them.
The pale-haired siblings.
Cruel, unknown woman and her brother Weston.
They left Laurent there to complete the change alone, with me as a living, breathing bloody temptation just beyond his reach. His growls and howls and demands haunt me to this day.
He wanted to eat me alive.
They came back for him—those evil bastards—and probably blew through every town from here to Los Angeles, devouring people like they were snacks.
I have to kill him.
He’d want that.
Mercy be thy way.
“Follow me,” the bartender grunts, shaking me out of my head.
If I don’t get my head out of my ass, I’m going to get myself killed. I reach under my poncho, removing one of my stakes. The powerful rune magic it’s infused with buzzes against my skin, eager to aid in my mission.
The bartender guides James and me down a long hallway, through a supply room, and through a door that leads to a dank basement. It’s dark and smells musty, but I can sense the malevolence lurking below.
James shoots me a warning look over his shoulder—one I interpret easily. Be careful. I always am. Mercy commands that I am.
We reach the bottom and an older guy with a receding hairline, bulging belly, and a cigarette hanging from his lip glares at us.
“Eddie, why the fuck are the police—”
“Leroy,” Eddie snaps. “They’re not the police.”
Leroy stubs his cigarette into the ashtray and stands up, his stomach jiggling behind his stained shirt. “Get the fuck outta here.”
James prowls his way, his fury damn near clouding the air around us. It makes me wonder if magic is cloaking his true self. This one is a mystery to me.
“I’m here to have a chat with your baby brother,” James spits out. “You can find him and let us speak in peace, or we can do shit the hard way.”
