Vampsploitation

Jaye Wells

Los Angeles, November 1979

The guy on camera wore a ratty ski mask, a black turtleneck stretched precariously over a beer gut and too-tight bell-bottoms. The wall behind him was covered in some sort of collage done in shades of black and white with accents of red. I tried to make out the details, but the poor video quality made the picture fuzzy.

I shook my head at the grainy image. If it had been anyone else showing me this, I’d think it was a joke. But the Dominae weren’t exactly known for their senses of humour. I glanced over at Slade. He wasn’t smiling. He rarely did from what I’d seen. Of course, I’d only known him for about ten minutes, and his lack of good humour was probably due to him not wanting to be saddled with a rookie.

“My name is Lord Viper,” the guy on tape said dramatically. I barely managed not to roll my eyes at the fake name. “For too long we, the mighty Lilim, children of Lilith, have hidden in the shadows. The time has come to reveal ourselves to the sons of Adam. Unless—”

He paused dramatically. I knew what was coming and resisted the urge to fast-forward through his lame speech.

“—the Dominae gives me one billion dollars!”

I choked on a shocked laugh. Lord Viper wasn’t the first vampire to try to extort money out of the Dominae. But he was the first to demand such a ridiculous sum.

“The money must be deposited by midnight Wednesday or I will give all the major media outlets in LA the story of the century.”

He went on to rattle off the name of a local bank and an account number. Tanith cut the tape off as he started to rant again.

“Do you have the envelope the tape came in?” Slade asked, all business. His look screamed bad-ass assassin. Dressed in black from neck to toes, he wore a leather blazer, slacks and expensive Italian leather shoes. In fact, the only things keeping his look from being a Shaft rip-off were his pale skin and auburn hair.

Tanith shook her head. Of the three Dominae, she was in charge of the business side of running the race. Considering the sum of money this guy was demanding it wasn’t a surprise she was taking part in this. “We had them dusted. No fingerprints.”

Slade nodded. “Have you tracked the account he mentioned?”

“The account belongs to a Zeke Calebow.” She slid a file across the table.

I scooted closer to Slade to get a look at the contents. He ignored me and focused on the papers. The picture clipped inside was a mugshot of a portly male vamp with shaggy copper hair and freckles. He looked stupid and mean – a bad combination. The guy in the video wore a ski mask, but my gut told me this Zeke and Lord Viper were one and the same.

“What do we know about Zeke?” I asked.

Tanith sighed. “Not much. Family is trash. Last known job was a strip club in the Valley.”

Slade slammed the folder shut before I could read the name of the club from the dossier. “We’ll check it out,” he said in a clipped tone.

“You have forty-eight hours to neutralize this threat,” Tanith said, looking from Slade to me and back again. “I don’t think I have to remind you how sensitive this matter is. We want this guy dead yesterday.”

“Consider it done,” Slade said. Then he turned on his heel and marched towards the door. He didn’t look back to make sure I followed. But I did anyway.

An hour later, Slade pulled up in front of the Tit Crypt. He hadn’t said much to me on the way over. I tried to play it cool, but inside I was stoked. Even though I’d graduated with honours from assassin school five years earlier, most of my jobs thus far involved roughing up vampires who forgot to pay their tithes to the Dominae. This would be my first kill mission, which was why I’d been paired up with a more experienced assassin.

Among enforcers, Slade Corbin was a legend. The instructors at school spoke about his feats with reverence and had used some of his more daring missions as case studies. Rumour had it he was less than a century old, which was hard to believe. But looking at him, he obviously couldn’t be that old. The light auburn colour gave him away. If he’d been older, the shade would be darker. For him to have accomplished so much at such a young age meant he was someone I’d be able to learn a few things from.

He turned the car off and leaned towards me. “OK, this is how it’s going to work. You’re going to shut up and stay out of my way. I ask the questions. I make the decisions. And when we find this asshole, we’re going to split the payment ninety-ten.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Which word didn’t you understand?”

I cocked my head to the side. Slade might be a legend, but no one spoke to me that way. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but the Dominae asked us to team up on this. I’m not going to sit around and let you collect all the money.” And the respect, I amended silently. I’d waited too long for a real chance to prove myself to the Dominae as an assassin for this guy to get in my way.

“No, you listen, sweetheart. You get in my way and I will end you. I’ve got a lot riding on this payday for some rookie to fuck it up for me. So, you’ll march your ass in there and watch while I find our guy and get the job done. For your trouble, you’ll walk away with ten per cent. And I’m being generous here. Ten large for doing nothing is a good deal.”

I could tell this asshole wasn’t going to listen to reason. Fine, I decided. Let him believe I was just some inexperienced hack. “OK, I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you do the talking in there if you agree to a seventy-thirty split.”

He cursed under his breath, something about godsdamned stubborn females. “How about ninety-ten and I don’t kick you off the case altogether?”

“You can’t do that!”

“Watch me.”

* * *

The bouncer at the door waved us in. Slade swaggered ahead of me, and I followed along, glaring daggers at his back.

I’d been in this place before. Being an enforcer for the Dominae meant I had to experience the seedier sides of the vampire underworld on a regular basis. Strip clubs especially seemed to attract tithe-avoiding repeat offenders, so I spent a lot of time staking them out. That allowed me to make contacts with the club owners and bouncers, who understood the benefits of cooperating with an enforcer. For me, the relationships meant I had access to the who’s who in order to find out the what’s what.

As far as clubs went, the Tit Crypt fell into the lower end of the spectrum. Instead of valet service and tight-assed chicks with glorious racks, it offered an all-you-can-eat buffet and hard-looking females who didn’t even try to conceal the boredom on their overly made-up faces.

On the stage, a female with red hair twisted into Bo Derek braids swayed her hips in time to the disco tragedy of Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls”. I shook my head at the music. How a race that invented disco managed to outnumber my own escaped me.

In contrast to the disco-inspired fashions favoured by most of the strippers, I wore a “God Save the Queen” T-shirt covered in safety pins, torn jeans and biker boots. I topped the entire ensemble off with a beaten leather jacket I’d found at Goodwill. The confrontational look discouraged the roving hands and eyes of the club patrons.

I continued past the stage, and the interested stares of the men seated there. Fang, a male vamp with a moustache that would have made Burt Reynolds jealous, wiped the bar down with a dingy towel. His steady swiping slowed when Slade approached. I hung back, as instructed, biding my time.

Fang ignored Slade until he slammed a twenty on the bar. “I need some information.”

The rag slowed its circling as Fang turned unfriendly eyes on him. “Ain’t got none for sale.”

Slade sighed and slapped another twenty down, harder this time. “I’m looking for one of your employees.”

Fang leaned forwards. “Look, mister, you want to look at some titties, you’ve come to the right place. If you’re asking me to squeal on my people, you’d best turn your ass around and go.”

I choked on a laugh at the look on Slade’s face. His jaw clenched, obviously a precursor to violence. I stood quickly, drawing Fang’s attention to me.

His face transformed into a genuine smile then. “Amateur night is on Tuesdays.”

I grinned and strutted over to the bar to run a finger down Fang’s leather vest. “How about a private dance then, hot stuff?”

Fang leaned his elbows on the bar. “You sure your boyfriend here won’t mind, Sabina? From the glare he’s sending me, his mama never taught him how to share.”

“Don’t mind him,” I said, waving away Slade’s fierce frown. “Listen, Fang, I was hoping you could help me out with something.”

Fang’s moustache twitched. “Anything for you, good lookin’.”

“We’re looking for Zeke Calebow.”

Fang frowned. “What you want with that lousy son of a bitch? I had to fire his ass.”

“Why?”

“Bastard cut a peephole in the girls’ dressing room. Caught him jacking off in the utility room with his eye glued to the wall.” He shook his head. “Two of my best girls quit when they found out.”

Slade spoke up. “Do you know where we can find him?”

Fang sent Slade a contemptuous look. “Last I heard he took a job at T&A Video over on Victory.”

“Yeah, I know the place. Thanks, Fang,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“I don’t suppose you’d prefer to show your appreciation topless,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

I laughed and shook my head. “How about a rain check?” I slid a twenty across the bar. Fang pocketed the payment smoothly. “Will you call me if you see Zeke?”

Fang chuckled. “Yeah. I’ll call you right after I beat his perverted ass.”

I grinned. “Just as long as you leave the killing to the professionals.”

Slade grabbed my arm and swung me around before I’d taken three steps out of the door.

“You want to explain to me what the fuck you were thinking in there? I thought we’d agreed you’d let me do the talking.”

I jerked my arm free of his grasp. “First of all, ‘you’re welcome’ for getting the information we needed. And second, Fang never would have talked to you if I hadn’t been there.”

“And why is that? You been doing some moonlighting?”

I gave him a look. “No, asshole. The vamps who don’t pay their tithes usually spend them on one of three things: gambling, titty bars or prostitutes. I know every vamp bookie, club owner and pimp in the city.” I stepped up on Slade, emboldened by the small victory of shocking him. “And if you’d taken two seconds to ask me, I would have told you that there was no way Fang would talk to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because Fang’s brother was killed by an enforcer for bootlegging blood-wine during Prohibition.”

“Why does he talk to you then?”

“Because I flirt with him shamelessly.” I smiled. “And because I saved one of his best girls from being raped by a patron several months ago. Fang loves his girls, and by helping one of them he considers himself in my debt.”

“Oh,” Slade said.

“Yeah,” I said. “And if you drop the asshole routine, I’ll tell you all about Larry, the vampire porn king who owns T&A Video.”

A small bell dinged over the door as Slade held it open and motioned for me to go first. He’d been surprisingly quiet after our little chat. I took that as a good sign, since he seemed the type who liked to bark orders unnecessarily. So, as I brushed past him, I was feeling good. At least until I caught a whiff of the store – a charming perfume of stale cigarettes, body odour and dried semen.

T&A Video lay in the armpit of the San Fernando Valley. The introduction of VHS tapes a few years earlier had revolutionized the adult film industry, and T&A was just one of the many new establishments catering to the discerning wank-film connoisseur.

On the surface, it looked like your typical video store, except with sections dedicated to every fetish known to man – and sometimes beast. But in the back, it held one of the most extensive collections of vampire porn in Southern California.

As expected, Larry manned the counter. He had an unlit cigar clamped between his lips and wore a polyester shirt covered in a retina-burning psychedelic print. I thought the thick chain with the male symbol was a nice touch though. Over Larry’s head, a TV bolted to the ceiling displayed a scene involving a pizza deliveryman and a woman whose undercarriage might be mistaken for a tribble from Star Trek.

Near the back of the store, a clean-cut businessman perused shelves labelled BARELY LEGAL. If he saw me come in, he was doing a pretty good job pretending he hadn’t. He pulled a video from the shelf and added it to the three he was already holding.

A red curtain next to the checkout drew back and a young guy exited. His hand was busy zipping his fly when he noticed me. His cheeks went red and he scuttled by so fast he left a breeze in his wake.

Larry looked up from his racing forms as we approached. He ran a thick palm over his greasy hair and straightened his butterfly collar. His eyes groped my body in a way that left me wanting a shower.

“If it isn’t Sabina Kane. How can I help you, sugar?” He completely ignored Slade.

“Is Zeke working tonight?”

Larry’s eyes narrowed. “Sabina, you wound me. I was hoping you were coming to accept my offer to make a blood film.”

I leaned back and tried to stifle my grimace. Fang films were fetish videos geared towards the vamp population. The last time I saw Larry he told me he could make me a star.

“Sorry, Larry, but I haven’t changed my mind,” I said. “I’m just looking for Zeke.”

Larry’s eyes narrowed. “You and everyone else.”

“What do you mean?” Slade said, leaning in.

“Who the hell are you?” Larry demanded.

“This is my colleague Slade Corbin,” I said.

Larry looked Slade over with what he probably thought was an intimidating stare. Slade simply stared back, cold as ice. I covered my smile with a hand. The thought of Larry intimidating anyone was laughable. The fact he was trying to intimidate a killing machine like Slade was downright hilarious.

Finally, under Slade’s penetrating gaze, Larry cleared his throat. “Anyway, Zeke Calebow’s dead to me. He was supposed to show up for work two days ago and I ain’t heard one word.”

“Any idea where we can find him?” I asked.

The male shrugged. “I think he hangs out at that strip club on Van Nuys.”

“The Tit Crypt?”

He nodded. Shit, I thought. So far, all my clues were leading me around in circles.

“Do you have an address for him?” Slade asked.

Larry sighed. “Hold on, I got it here somewheres.” His hefted his bulk from his stool and went to a file cabinet behind the counter. As he rifled through stacks of paper, he muttered to himself.

Slade and I exchanged a look. Chances were good Zeke wouldn’t be at home waiting for us to put a bullet between his eyes. But if we had the address, we could search the place for any clues on where he was hiding out.

Finally, Larry came back over and slapped a coffee-stained job application on the counter. “The address is on that,” Larry said. “You find that asshole, you tell him he owes me two hundred dollars for all the videos he checked out and never returned.”

I nodded and handed the paper to Slade. “Thanks, Larry. I owe you one.”

Larry shifted on his seat and leaned in again. “Let me know if you change your mind about making a movie. I’d love to get you on my casting couch, if you know what I mean.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Slade’s mouth twitch. “No thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows suggestively.

“I said no.” Not just no, I thought. Hell no.

“Let me give you my card anyway.” He pulled a greasy rectangle of paper from a stack at his elbow. “When you change your mind, call me. There’s vamps out there’d pay good money to see a prime piece like you sink your fangs into a nice piece of meat.”

Slade laughed out loud this time. I turned to him with an eyebrow raised. Slade paused and glanced warily at Larry. The porn king wiggled his eyebrows again, pointing a bony finger at Slade. “Don’t laugh, good lookin’. I was talking to you.”

One minute Slade stood next to me with his mouth agape and his cheeks red. The next, the bell over the door rang and I got a nice view of Slade’s ass before it disappeared.

* * *

“I think we should hit Zeke’s address tomorrow. I don’t want to chance getting caught there if shit goes down.” If the joke Larry had at Slade’s expense was still bothering him, Slade didn’t show it. But the clenched jaw hinted I should let it go. Instead, I glanced at the dashboard clock.

“Makes sense.” Only about two hours until sunrise. Not a big deal for me. The only benefit of being mixed-blood I’d ever experienced was my ability to be in the sun. Granted, it weakened me, but I didn’t have to dive for shelter like every other vamp on the planet. “You hungry?”

Slade smiled for the first time since I met him. “Liquid or solid?”

“Solid. I fed earlier.”

He smiled and started the car. “I know just the place.”

Slade insisted we go to the window to order, instead of using the drive-thru. Since I’d never been to In-N-Out Burger before, he insisted on ordering me something called a “Double-Double” with “large fries, well done”. I wasn’t sure exactly what any of that meant, but the heavenly aroma of grilled beef made my carnivore’s heart go pitter-patter.

The chick in the orange apron handed over a box overflowing with burgers and cardboard boats filled with golden fries. Slade carried the feast to a small sitting area next to the parking lot.

He didn’t wait for me to sit before digging into his burger. I smiled at the utterly satisfied sounds escaping between his bites. For someone who’d come across so cold all night, Slade seemed to have a passion for food. He finally slowed down enough to notice I hadn’t tried mine. He pointed at the box with his own burger. “Dig in,” he said over a mouthful.

I wouldn’t quite call the experience orgasmic, but it was a near thing. “Godsdamn!” I said after I’d inhaled half the thing.

“Right?” Slade said, shoving two fries into his mouth.

We spent a few minutes munching companionably, watching cars pass by on Foothill Boulevard. Finally, I washed down my last bite with a gulp of cold soda. I was feeling good. Not just because of the burgers, either. What had started out as a disaster of a first mission – what with Slade being an ass and all – had turned into a pretty decent night.

“Slade?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we should review what we know so far?”

He grimaced, as if I’d just brought up a taboo subject. “Not much to review.”

“But we have Zeke’s personnel file. Maybe we should go through it for clues. You know, proof he’s the one whose threatening the Dominae.”

Slade raised an eyebrow. “Clues? Sabina, we’re not detectives.” He leaned in, whispering so the people at other tables wouldn’t overhear. “We’re assassins. It’s not up to us to prove or deny Zeke’s guilt. It’s up to us to end him. Period.”

“But the guy on the video was wearing a mask. How can we be sure it’s this Zeke guy? After all, the perp could have opened the bank account under Zeke’s name to throw us off his trail.”

Slade cocked his head. “You’ve been watching too much Magnum P.I.”

My face went hot at his dismissive tone. Ignoring him, I opened the file. Zeke’s job application was on top. I scanned the page, looking for something. What, I had no idea. I scanned past the work history since we already knew his last place of employment. Finally, my eyes landed on his chicken-scratch answers to a series of questions.

I snorted. “Listen to this. ‘Why do you want to work at T&A Video?’” I looked up to make sure Slade was paying attention. He tilted his head, a facsimile of real interest. “Zeke said, ‘’Cause I like to watch people fucking.’”

Slade spewed a mouthful of soda across the table. “At least he’s honest,” he said once he’d stopped choking.

I smiled and continued, “‘Please discuss your previous experience in the adult film industry.’ Zeke put: ‘Does whacking off to it three times a day count?’”

We both laughed so loud that the other customers started sending curious looks our way. Finally, I recovered enough to say, “The funniest part is that these answers got him the job.”

Slade smiled and took another sip of his drink. A flash of fang peeked out when he pulled the straw away. “You surprised me tonight,” he said, suddenly more serious.

“I know.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m sorry if I was an asshole earlier. I just had a bad experience with the last rookie the Dominae saddled me with.”

“Who was it?”

“Mischa Petrov.”

I groaned and crumpled my burger wrapper, wishing it were Petrov’s head.

“I take it you know her?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” In addition to being my biggest competition in assassin school, Mischa Petrov was also my nemesis. She lorded my mixed blood over me whenever possible. And despite my higher grades, my grandmother, as leader of the Dominae, had chosen Mischa as the Primora of the class. The honour ensured Mischa was fast-tracked into getting the plum jobs, unlike the rest of us who had to serve time collecting tithes and tracking down petty criminals.

Slade laughed. “In addition to being completely incompetent, that female had the worst case of fanged vagina I’ve ever had the misfortune to experience.”

I grimaced. “You fucked her?” My new-found respect for Slade took a nosedive.

He snorted and shook his head. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t let that she-devil anywhere near my unmentionables.”

I smiled. “Good for you.”

“Anyway,” he said, “after that horrific experience, I didn’t expect you would be a pleasant surprise. Especially since—” He cut himself off and looked away quickly.

I nodded. “Let me guess, the mixed-blood thing?” He nodded, looking sheepish. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

He shifted uncomfortably on the small seat. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for earlier.”

“Do you feel bad enough to split the take with me fifty-fifty?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “How about eighty-twenty?” His tone made it sound like he thought this offer was magnanimous.

I leaned forwards, looking him in the eyes. “Sixty-forty.”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at me. Finally, he sighed. “Seventy-thirty. Final offer.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn,” I said.

He shrugged. “Despite your luck tonight, I’m still the lead on this mission. When we go in tomorrow, you’re going to have to let me call the shots.”

I saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

His lips twitched. “Smart ass.”

Slade picked me up at my apartment the next night. I was waiting for him by the kerb when he pulled up in a black van.

When I got in, I asked, “What happened to the Karmann Ghia?”

He shrugged. “This has better storage.” He jerked his head towards the back. I looked over my shoulder and my eyes widened at the treasure trove of weaponry. He’d installed racks filled with guns, knives, crossbows and various other implements of death. Along the opposite wall, a low bench featured manacles instead of seat belts. Red shag carpet completed the dungeon-on-wheels look.

“Nice carpet,” I said.

“Hides blood well.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life. “All set?”

An hour later, we pulled up in front of Zeke’s house in Glendale. Calling it a dump would have been generous. It looked like someone dropped a cinder block and then stuck a door and a couple of windows on it. Although, the weeds, beer cans and cigarette butts added a certain charm to the landscaping.

“Looks like peddling porn doesn’t pay as much as I thought,” Slade said.

“Yeah, extortion is much more lucrative,” I replied, scanning the dark windows for signs of life. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

“Let me grab some party favours, just in case,” Slade said. He ducked back into the cargo area. He opened his leather blazer and started filling interior pockets with assorted stabby things.

Let me just say, nothing is sexier than watching a male strap weapons to himself. Slade was no exception. For an ass, he had a certain alpha-male sexiness going for him. But I knew better than to entertain those thoughts for very long. I needed to keep my mind on the mission. So, I took my eyes off his physique and focused on his weapons. That’s when I noticed he didn’t bother grabbing any guns.

“No firearms?” I asked, checking the chamber of my own.

He paused. “Never use ’em.” He pulled up the leg of his bell-bottoms and strapped a nylon sheath around his ankle. Into that went three wooden spikes.

“Why not?”

He paused, as if considering the matter for the first time. Finally, he shrugged. “Just don’t like guns.”

“Oh, I get it,’ I said. “You’re old.”

He laughed. “I’m only sixty, Sabina. Hardly old by vampire standards.”

“You’re joking. Sixty?”

He shook his head and grabbed a few throwing stars made from apple wood from the shelf. Judging by the smirk on his face, I’d managed to amuse him. As much as I didn’t like being the source of anyone’s amusement, I had to look at him with grudging respect. To have accomplished so much as an assassin at such a young age was mind-blowing.

“Ready?” he said, breaking into my thoughts. I nodded and cocked my gun. I might want to learn from Slade, but I drew the line at giving up my weapon.

We went in through the back door. In his haste to leave, Zeke must have forgotten to lock it. I shook my head at the oversight. For someone who’d managed to elude us this long, Zeke sure was an idiot.

The kitchen stunk like weeks-old trash and spoiled food. Even in the dark, I could see the dishes piled up in the sink and the pile of pizza boxes stacked next to the overflowing trashcan. Even in the dark, I could see food caked on the harvest yellow fridge and the avocado green counters.

Two doors led off the kitchen to other rooms in the house. Slade pointed to the right, indicating we should split up. I nodded and went through the breakfast area.

The only signs of life from my perspective were cockroaches crawling over forgotten cereal bowls and glasses coated with dried blood. Zeke, in addition to being a pain in my ass, also appeared to be the biggest slob I’d ever encountered.

I moved silently to the corner leading into the living room. When no sounds came from the room beyond, I slowly turned the corner with my gun ready to shoot anything that moved. Maybe I was being paranoid, but carelessness didn’t pay the bills. More than one enforcer had gotten dead by being cocky.

This room was decorated in bachelor chic. Posters of a scantily clad Farrah Fawcett-Majors and the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders lined the walls. The furnishings consisted of a battered orange Barcalounger parked in front of a TV the size of a compact car. I moved through the room quickly and headed towards the back hallway, which I assumed led to the bedrooms.

Through the doorway, I encountered a linen closet filled with Hustler magazines and ratty towels. A sound to my left had me swinging my gun around. Slade held up his hands and stopped. I blew out a breath and lowered the gun a fraction.

“Anything?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “All clear. You check that last room?”

A closed door waited on our right, which presumably led to a guest room or office. I shook my head and moved towards it. Slade had my back. Not that it made me feel any better. Despite his obvious experience in the field, his presence unsettled me. I was used to working alone, and adding a partner to the mix brought in all sorts of variables I couldn’t control.

Still, I sucked in some air and turned the knob. When no one rushed me or shot me in the face, I let out my breath and walked in. Slade clicked on a flashlight behind me and shined it into the stuffy room. Dust particles glittered in the beam while my eyes adjusted. Once they focused again, I made out a utilitarian metal desk pushed up against the far wall. Confident we were alone in the house, I walked over and clicked on the desk lamp.

I busied myself opening desk drawers, rooting around for any clue of Zeke’s whereabouts. All I got for my effort were a few back issues of Hustler, gummy rubber bands and a matchbook.

“Um, Sabina?”

I pocketed the matchbook, and looked over my shoulder to see what had Slade sounding spooked. He had his back to me, his gaze intent on the wall.

At first, I thought more beer posters plastered the wall. But when I turned around to get a better look, my mouth dropped open. The same collage used as a backdrop in the video covered the wall.

“Godsdamn, that’s creepy,” I said. Made from newspaper clippings, photographs, bits of string and what appeared to be bloody handprints, Zeke had crafted his very own serial killer-esque objet d’art.

I moved closer, careful not to touch anything. Zeke had been a busy boy. Upon closer inspection, I realized the pictures and clippings all served to prove the existence of vampires. From shots of vamps sucking on the necks of victims to headlines about unexplained murders, he had enough evidence to convince even those most doubtful mortals that the stuff of their nightmares not only existed, but walked down the same streets and ate at the same restaurants as the Sons of Adam.

“He wasn’t bluffing,” Slade said quietly. “He really intends to expose us to the mortals.”

I backed away from the scent of dried blood and newsprint ink. “Do you have a camera in that van of yours?”

Slade opened his mouth to answer, but a crash made us both go still. The sound came from the other end of the house, probably the kitchen. I grabbed my gun and went to turn off the light. The room fell into darkness. Something about darkness always amplifies sounds. And this was no different. My breath sounded harsh to my ears as I listened to footsteps advancing through the house.

I glanced at Slade. He held a finger to his lips and went to stand with his back against the wall next to the door. I took point in the corner, diagonal to the doorway, ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

Floorboards creaked in the living room. Amateur, I thought. Or someone who wasn’t expecting two vampires to be waiting for them. I crouched down in the shadows, giving myself the advantage of being able to see the intruder before they saw me.

The darkness in the hall shifted. I aimed the gun directly at the silhouette, tracking the figure. Finally, it crossed the threshold and stopped.

“Stop right there.” Slade’s calm voice sounded unnaturally loud in the dark.

The intruder jerked. Three panic shots exploded in quick succession. I covered my head with my hands as a shot zinged past my ear. “Godsdammit!”

“Stop!” Slade yelled. A scuffle sounded from the doorway. A female gasp followed by a male grunt.

I dived for the lamp on the desk. Light spilled through the room just in time for me to catch Mischa Petrov kneeing Slade between the legs. Gods love him, he held his ground, knocking the gun from her hand.

“Mischa, stop!” I yelled.

But she wasn’t done fighting. The idiot was so pumped up on adrenaline she wasn’t thinking.

“You scared the shit out of me!” she yelled at Slade, swiping at him and hissing like a feral cat. She was even dressed like Cat Woman in her one-piece black jumpsuit, which left little to the imagination.

I grabbed her arms and tore her away from Slade. She panted like an injured animal, ready to strike again. Blood covered Slade’s lower lip, and two deep scratch marks bled freely next to his eye. Seeing the needless injuries, something snapped. I could understand why she shot without looking, but her disgraceful display of fear after the fact disgusted me.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us!” I yelled.

She jerked away and rounded on me. “Me?” she spat. “You two were skulking in the shadows like a couple of thieves.”

“I told you to stop.” Slade said it in the same tone one might use to share the time. His complete lack of anger impressed me. Sure, he was probably pissed on the inside. But outside? Total control. That was the sign of a real professional. Unlike some bitches I could mention.

Mischa seemed to have collected some of her composure. She smoothed her palms over her ruby-red Crystal Gayle hair which, in my opinion, was completely ridiculous for an assassin. Now that she’d gotten control of herself, she transformed back into her typical dragon-lady persona. “Sorry, Slade. If I’d known it was you I never would have fired.” She smiled at him in a way that reminded me of a lion eyeing a particularly plump gazelle.

“Shut up, Mischa. Flirting with me won’t erase the fact you fucked up,” Slade said. “Your lack of control makes you a danger to both yourself and anyone working with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Fuck you, Slade.”

“I’d rather gnaw off my own arm, thanks.”

I didn’t bother to cover my grin. “Looks like you’ve lost one of your admirers, Mischa.”

She turned on me, practically spitting venom. “Shut up, mixed-blood. No one asked for your opinion.”

I clenched my teeth and glared at her, refusing to let her get the best of my temper. I turned to Slade. “Can we go now?”

Slade shook his head. “Not until Mischa explains what she’s doing here.”

Mischa crossed her arms. “I’m looking for Zeke.”

Slade’s eyes narrowed. “This is my hit, Mischa. Back the fuck off.”

“What are you talking about? The Dominae assigned me to this case.”

“Bullshit.”

She smiled, showing a flash of fang. “Guess they figured you’d be handicapped with the half-breed.” She sent a venomous glance my way. “Face it, Slade. With her slowing you down, it’ll be a miracle if you win this one.”

I was still stewing when Slade dropped me off. After Mischa’s insults, he had to physically remove me from Zeke’s house. Lucky for her he had, because I’d been about two seconds from going Three Mile Island on her ass.

If Slade felt angry about the fact the Dominae brought Mischa in as insurance, he wasn’t showing it.

“Stop sulking,” Slade said. “If you let her get a rise out of you, she’ll win every time.” He pulled the van to a stop next to my car.

“I’m not sulking,” I lied. “I was trying to come up with a strategy.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said. “Do you always pout when you strategize?”

That was it. I’d been insulted enough for one night. I turned to Slade with a glare. “You know what? I don’t think this partnership’s going to work out for me after all.”

He didn’t seem impressed by my declaration. “Oh, I see.” He nodded, as if he’d just had a revelation. “You’re giving up.”

“No, I’m not. I just prefer to work alone.”

Slade sighed. “That’s not an option and you know it. Until I give the Dominae the all clear on you, you’re not allowed to pursue perps on your own.”

I rammed my fist into the dashboard. He was right, but I didn’t like it. I’d worked my ass off in assassin school and paid my dues for close to a decade to get this chance. Having to shadow an arrogant ass was insult added to injury.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Slade said calmly, looking at the dent I’d left in the dashboard.

“Fuck off.” I slammed out of the van and stopped at my car. Anger and shame warred for supremacy in my gut. Anger because I was sick and tired of being underestimated. Shame because I was having a tantrum in front of an assassin of Slade’s calibre.

Behind me, Slade rolled down the window. “Sabina?”

I whipped towards him. “What?”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”

I stopped cold. “What?”

“Which word didn’t you understand?” he said, brow furrowing.

I blew out a breath, feeling like an ass for my display of temper. “No. What I meant was, are you sure you want to work with me?”

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

I crossed my arms, hating him a little bit for making me spell it out. “Well, for one, not many vampires would choose a mixed-blood for a partner. And the Dominae obviously think I’m a fuck up, so I can’t imagine why you’d bother.”

He laughed at me. I narrowed my eyes, not understanding how anything I’d said was funny. “Grow up, little girl. This isn’t about you and your pride. It’s about the job.” He paused and leaned out the window. “You want to be a good assassin?”

I assumed the question was rhetorical so I didn’t answer at first. But he remained silent for so long it became apparent he expected an answer. I lifted my chin. “I don’t want to be good. I want to be the best.”

He bobbed his head, obviously approving of the answer. “You’ll never be the best if you allow your feelings to get in the way of the job. So suck it up, sweetheart. Kill Zeke, collect the reward and move on. Self-pity has no place in our line of work.”

On the outside, I probably looked as stubborn as ever. My arms stayed crossed, my chin stayed raised, and my eyes stayed narrowed. But on the inside, his words washed through me like ice water. It wasn’t easy to accept that my emotions had been getting the best of me. But he was right. The longer I let my grandmother’s underestimation of my abilities hurt me, the longer it would take for me to earn her respect. Females like Lavinia Kane didn’t respect whiners. They respected doers – like Slade.

“Besides,” Slade continued, “do you really want to let Mischa win?”

At that moment, something shifted inside me. Fighting against the prejudices I faced was a waste of time. From now on, I’d focus on being the best assassin I could be. I’d start by working with Slade and learning everything I could from him. And lesson number one was most definitely learned.

Finally, I nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The corner of Slade’s mouth lifted, and he nodded approvingly. “Yes, ma’am.”

When I got into the van the next night, I handed Slade the matchbook I’d grabbed from Zeke’s desk.

“What’s this?” He held the book up to the light. It was from someplace called Jack’s Hideaway in Long Beach.

“Found that in Zeke’s office last night,” I said. “I pocketed it just before we were interrupted by the trampire.”

“And?”

“I called. Looks like Mr Z. Calebow missed the ‘use a pseudonym’ lesson in extortion school.”

“What an idiot,” Slade said. “Let’s go.”

We hit the 710 about seven o’clock. Big mistake. Traffic didn’t just crawl; it oozed. I settled into my seat, prepared for a long wait.

“Thanks for the pep talk last night,” I said.

Slade looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “No problem. We all need a good kick in the ass every now and then.”

“I find it hard to imagine you ever need one.”

He laughed. “You’d be surprised. I won’t lie to you; the life of an assassin isn’t easy. Since you’re just starting out it’s best to learn that early.”

My life hadn’t ever been what anyone would consider easy, I thought. “How long have you been doing this?”

He shrugged. “About thirty years now.”

“Do you ever regret it? Becoming an assassin, I mean.”

He paused, as if weighing his response. “Sometimes. It’s a lonely life. And I have to admit I don’t always see eye to eye with the Dominae.” His words came out in a measured tone, each carefully chosen.

“I can see that, I guess. Have you ever killed someone and regretted it?”

He shifted in the seat. “Traffi c’s heavy tonight.”

And with that, the door slammed shut on our conversation. The shades were drawn. And the “do not disturb” sign flashed like neon in the dark car.

Jack’s Hideaway squatted on the side of the freeway like a beggar. The sign featured flashing neon palm trees and advertised rooms by the hour.

“Charming place,” I observed as Slade pulled into the parking lot. The peeling turquoise doors opened directly onto the parking lot. The cars of choice for the discerning Hideaway patron seemed to be semi trailers and jalopies.

After making a circle of the building to make sure Zeke couldn’t slip through a rear exit, Slade pulled into a parking space at the far end of the lot.

“OK, his room’s on the second floor.” Slade pointed to the door next to the metal stairwell.

“You think he’s in there?”

Slade nodded. “My gut tells me yes. But he may not be alone. Be prepared for anything.” He went into the back of the van and started filling his pockets with weapons. “I’ll take point. You hang back. If he gets past me, put a bullet between his eyes. Got it?”

I nodded. My heart kicked up a notch. It was finally happening. My first kill.

The parking lot was deserted. The traffic from the freeway muted our progress up the stairs. It wouldn’t cover the sound of gunfire though, so I’d made sure to slip on a silencer.

Slade took point on the left side of the door and I took the right, ready to get his back. Staying to the side, Slade knocked on the door.

“What?” a surly male voice called from inside. Zeke.

“Maintenance.”

“Fuck off.” The voice was closer now. A shadow passed over the peephole. Slade didn’t bother responding. He kicked the door in, slamming it into Zeke’s face. The overweight vamp fell back with his hands over his nose, screaming blood murder.

Then, with surprising speed, he barrelled past Slade and knocked me over. I fell on my ass just as he launched over the railing and took off across the parking lot.

“Fuck!” Slade yelled and took off after him. I scrambled to my feet with a few choice curses of my own. I jumped over the railing and shot across the parking lot.

Somewhere behind me, I heard a door slam, followed by the sound of high heels on pavement. A familiar female voice cursed loudly. I didn’t look back, but I’d have bet cash money Mischa followed us to the hotel, hoping to cut in on the action.

With my eyes on Slade’s receding back, I pumped my legs faster. I didn’t want to miss out on the kill when it went down. I was closing in on him when Zeke turned right down an alley. As we rounded the corner, I came even with Slade.

Up ahead, Zeke jumped on top of a dumpster. With wide eyes, he glanced back at us. Then he jumped up to grab the bottom of a fire escape. He pulled it down and scrambled up the ladder onto the escape. Then he pulled the ladder up behind him.

Slade paused. “Go around the front of the building in case he comes back down!”

I stopped, panting for breath. “Why me?”

“Really? You’re going to argue now?” He looked over his shoulder at Mischa, who ran towards us in her five-inch heels.

“Fine, but if you reach him first wait until I catch up.”

Slade nodded impatiently and jumped up on the dumpster. “Go!”

I backtracked, zooming past Mischa without a second glance. I heard her skitter to a halt. “Where are you going?” She turned to follow me.

I ignored her and ran around to the front of the apartment building. The lobby was deserted, thank the gods. My boots clomped across the linoleum towards the stairs. The door opened behind me and Mischa’s heels joined my boots in echoing off the walls.

“Sabina,” she whisper-yelled. “What’s going on?”

I needed to ditch her before she got in the way. Skidding to a halt, I turned. “Mischa, thank the goddess you’re here. Zeke’s on his way out the front door,” I lied. “You stay here and bag him when he comes your way.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if she could trust me. “I don’t know –”

I heaved a big sigh. “Fine. You can explain to the Dominae why you let him go when he comes this way.”

She lifted her chin. “All right, but if I bag him I’m not splitting the money with you.”

“Whatever. Just stay there and make sure he doesn’t get away.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and ran up the stairs towards the roof. Four flights later, I burst through the metal door. Male grunts echoed across the barren landscape. Adrenaline surged. I rounded the corner to see Slade and Zeke knocking the shit out of each other.

As I rushed towards them, I was surprised to see Slade having so much trouble sealing the deal. Sure, he’d promised to wait for me to get there for the kill, but I hadn’t expected him to follow through on it. Every assassin knows when you get an opening to finish the job you take it. But Slade didn’t even have a stake in his hand. Sure, Zeke was fighting, but he was also winded and scared. Slade should have had the advantage hands down.

I pulled my gun from my waistband and advanced. Slade pushed Zeke back against the low wall surrounding the roof. Slade must’ve heard me because next thing I knew, he yelled, “Shoot him!”

Normally, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but my hands shook and sweaty palms made my grip slippery. I didn’t want to risk missing and clipping Slade by mistake. “I can’t!”

When Slade looked over his shoulder at me, Zeke clocked him on the side of the head and took off running again. Slade swept his feet under Zeke’s legs, knocking the fat bastard to the ground. Then Slade jumped over and grabbed the gun from my hands. He spun and took a shot.

The bullet whizzed by a good foot from Zeke’s head. He lurched off the ground and rammed his good shoulder into Slade. The assassin cursed and fell on his ass. Zeke loomed over him, but Slade still had the gun.

Now, I thought, now he’ll get him.

Slade pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide again and lodged itself in an HVAC unit. My mouth dropped open; shocked he could miss such an easy shot.

Zeke, spurred on by adrenaline, ran towards the door – and me. Driven by pain and fear, he barrelled right towards me. I bent my knees and pulled my spare gun from my waistband.

For one second, Zeke’s face was a mask of rage coming towards me. Then time slowed, and the gun in my slippery grip exploded. Blood burst from Zeke’s right eye socket. His body jerked back, his arms going wide in forced surrender. He ignited before his body hit the rooftop.

I stood still for a moment as the shock of what I’d done soaked in. “I did it,” I whispered. “I finally did it.”

Slade groaned on the ground nearby. I walked over and gave him a hand up. “You OK?” I asked.

He nodded. “Sorry ’bout that,” Slade said, motioning vaguely. “It’s been a while since I shot a gun.”

“No problem,” I said, somewhat shakily. “At least we got him.”

“You did good,” he said. He gently pulled the gun from my steely grip. “You did real good.”

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Guess we’ll need to call the sweepers to clean up this mess.”

“We need to go back to the hotel to gather the evidence. I’ll call it in then.”

Just then, the door to the roof slammed open. Mischa exploded through it at full speed. When she saw the pile of ash smouldering on the ground, she yelled, “No! This was my kill.”

Slade shot me a grin. “Day late and a dollar short as usual, Mischa.”

Mischa stamped her feet and punched the wall – a vampire temper tantrum. Pitiful.

Slade turned to me and slung his arm across my shoulder. “Come on, Sabina. Let’s go celebrate your first kill.”

I couldn’t sit still on the way home. By the time he turned into my neighbourhood, Slade looked at me with a rueful smile. “I remember my first kill,” he said wistfully.

Needing something to do to distract me from my restlessness, I turned to him. “Tell me about it.”

He shrugged. “Not much to tell really. It was a female. She’d cooked some of the Dominae’s books. Siphoned a couple hundred thousand before anyone detected it. Easy kill. But I’ll never forget how I felt after.”

“Excited?”

He smiled, turning into my driveway. “More than that. The closest word I can think of is aroused.” He punctuated the word by slamming the van into park.

“Yes,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Aroused. That’s the perfect word.”

He watched me in the dark, saying nothing.

“Do you still feel that way after a kill?” I asked, licking my lips.

He answered with his mouth, but not with words. One second he was on his side of the van, watching me with heat in his eyes. The next he was on me. I welcomed the contact, revelling in another type of adrenaline. His fang scraped my lip, and he sucked on the sting, heightening the pain . . . and the pleasure.

We barely made it inside before the clothes came off. A small voice in the back of my head wondered if this was a mistake. After all, sex and business never mix well. But, another voice said, You’re off the clock. The mission was successful, and it’s time to celebrate.

I chose to listen to the latter voice, and welcomed Slade’s tongue in my mouth once again. His copper scent combined with the musk of exertion from the night’s battle. He slammed me up against the wall and I felt the drywall give with the force of his thrusts. I wrapped my legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. He filled me thoroughly, but I wasn’t content to let him have control.

He reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair. I jerked away and lowered my legs. I pushed him back roughly towards a dining room chair. Slade smiled and obeyed. He fell heavily onto it and pulled me down after him. My legs bracketed his hips. I dug my toes into the hardwood floor for a better grip. My nails dug into his shoulders, leaving small beads of blood, which I licked away. Slade groaned and urged me on with delightfully lewd whispers.

I’d had sex before, but those had been restrained, polite affairs with upper-class vampires who thought bagging a mixed-blood would be an adventure. But behind Slade’s tightly controlled facade lurked an animalistic lover. One spurred on by the excitement of the kill. My own internal beast rose to meet his and I gave him back as good as I got. Scratching, clawing, fucking until we were both left sweaty and spent on the cold floor. And when my orgasm exploded, the primal scream came from the dark place inside where the beast lived.

The next evening, I woke to Slade’s hand caressing my hair. My eyes fluttered open. He sat on the edge of the bed. His clothes were on and he had his keys in his hand. “You’re leaving?” I said.

“Got to go pick up our payment, but I’ll be back.”

“Cool,” I said lamely. The muscles in my shoulders relaxed. It’s not that I expected him to declare himself just because we’d screwed. But still. No one liked it when their partner dashed out the door after a night of hot, sweaty sex. “Fifty–fifty, right?” I joked.

He smiled. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“You’ll find I always get what I want,” I said.

He leaned down and kissed me. Unlike the frenzied kisses last night, this one was long and slow. Tender. Almost like he was saying goodbye instead of “see ya soon”. When he pulled away and smiled, I shook off the heavy feeling of foreboding. “Fifty–fifty it is,” he said.

“Excellent. When you get back we’ll celebrate.”

For a split second, I thought I saw a shadow pass behind his hooded eyes. But then he patted my ass and rose. “It’s a date. Be back soon.”

I leaned back in the bed and listened to him leave. His footsteps on the hardwood floor. The click of the door closing. Then, a few moments later, the van’s engine roaring to life.

I clenched my stomach muscles against the tickle of excitement. Everything was coming together for the first time in my life. I’d finally made my first kill. Now my grandmother would have to accept my competence.

And the fact I’d managed to finally outdo that bitch Mischa Petrov made the victory so much sweeter. The look on her face when she realized we’d beaten her was worth more to me than any monetary reward.

And what about Slade? Right then, Slade was a big question mark. A very sexy, intense question mark. I scooted down into the covers as a smile spread across my face.

Sure, the job didn’t leave a lot of room for romance, but there was no reason we couldn’t be friends with benefits. Using each other to work off the post-job glow, as it were. And, who knew? Maybe we could even be partners. I allowed myself to daydream about us teaming up on more missions. He’d teach me everything he knew about being an assassin, and I’d reward him with hot, steamy sex. Seemed like a fair deal.

I slammed my fist into the table. “Where is he?” I demanded. All rational thought had flown out the window in the last twenty-four hours, but it wasn’t until this moment that rage filled up the hollow place logic had abandoned.

“Calm yourself,” my grandmother, Lavinia Kane, snapped. “We don’t know where he went.”

When Slade failed to reappear the night before, I’d spent the first hour in denial. Traffic, I’d reasoned. By the third hour, I’d paced a trough in my floor. By sunrise, after several unanswered phone messages, I’d gone into panic mode. What if something happened to him? Every now and then, even good assassins lost their luck and fell under the gun of a pissed off friend or relative.

I’d called the Dominae headquarters just before sunrise, hoping they’d heard something. Tanith informed me that Slade had come by to collect the payment as expected. She hadn’t heard from him since, she said – not to worry.

After a sleepless day, my phone rang at about 7 pm. I’d rushed to answer, convinced Slade was calling to explain. Instead, my grandmother commanded me to report to the compound ASAP. I’d driven over with dread pooling in my gut like tar.

When I arrived, my grandmother gave me her theory on what happened to Slade.

“After you called last night, Tanith sent someone to check Slade’s house. The signs of a hasty departure were unmistakable.”

“But we don’t know for sure he ran. Maybe someone kidnapped him,” I said.

Tanith shook her head. “He also left this.” She slid a note across the desk. As I read the letter, my dread morphed into black rage.

The note was addressed to the Dominae. The content was short and to the point: “I can’t do this any more.”

“How could he just disappear like that? Surely someone knows where he went,” I said.

Tanith shook her head. “Sabina, Slade is one of our best assassins. He knows how to disappear when he wants to. We don’t even know how long he’d been planning this or if it was a spur of the moment thing.”

I closed my eyes. I’d been so stupid. A foolish girl blinded by hero worship and eagerness to please. On that first night, Slade had said he had a lot riding on this mission. I saw now that he’d been planning to leave before I even entered the picture. He’d played me for three days, allowing me to think we were a team. Truth was, I’d been nothing but a pawn in his plan to cut and run.

Why had he run? Well, he’d mentioned not seeing eye to eye with the Dominae. And when I’d asked him if he regretted killing anyone, he’d clammed up.

“Oh shit,” I said as the rest became clear.

“What?”

“Does Slade ever use guns?”

Tanith and Lavinia shared a confused glance. “Of course. He’s an excellent marksman. Why?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “He told me he didn’t like to use guns. He only carried stakes when we were together.”

“That makes no sense,” Tanith said.

“It makes perfect sense. Last night, he deliberately missed Zeke twice. He all but forced me to carry out the kill.”

“Why would he do that?” Lavinia asked.

“Don’t you see? Slade lost his edge. That’s why he ran. He said he couldn’t take it any more.” I held up the note. “He used me to kill Zeke so he could collect the money and run.”

“Wait – you made the kill?” Lavinia said. “Slade told me you froze and he had to finish the job.”

Before this little revelation, I’d been hot with anger. Now, the blood in my veins became an ice floe. “Did he? And I’m sure you bought that, didn’t you? Easier to believe I choked than to believe that Slade was playing you all for fools!”

“That’s enough!” Lavinia yelled.

“You’re right. It is enough. I will not be punished for Slade’s choices. I carried out the mission as instructed. I want you to clear me for solitary kills.” I thought about asking them to pay me, but that didn’t matter any more. I wasn’t going to let Slade’s duplicity screw me out of my chance to be a real assassin.

My grandmother stared me down with black eyes. I didn’t flinch – didn’t give her a hint of weakness to use as an excuse to deny me. Finally, she lowered her chin. “Fine. But you must promise to speak to no one about Slade’s desertion. Is that clear?”

I jerked a nod. “Crystal.”

“I’d hoped working with Slade would teach you lessons about how to be a good assassin,” Tanith said, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry, Domina. The lesson Slade taught me was much more valuable than any he could have planned.”

“And what might that be?” Lavinia said.

I shook my head and turned to go. They allowed me to leave without comment. But as I walked out of the room and saw the hostile faces of the Undercouncil, and those other vampires who saw me as nothing more than a mixed-blood, the lesson echoed through my head.

I’ll always be better off alone.

On the heels of that sad realization, I also knew I hadn’t seen the last of Slade Corbin. I wasn’t sure when. I wasn’t sure where. But one of these days, I’d make sure he understood no one screws Sabina Kane – metaphorically or literally – and just walks away.