* * *
Things had gotten dicey.
The safety was off on both guns and I backed up slowly, wanting my back to a wall. I could tell from the abundant mirrors of the sub basement VIP section that I looked rather impressive. Dressing for effect was its own reward.
Dark locks of hair had slipped loose of the leather tie at the nape of my neck and fallen forward to frame my face. The light kept picking up highlights in it that shimmered in my peripheral. It did the same to the small bit of skin showing at my face and neck, alternating honey and caramel tones that always brought the word exotic from others.
When you added up the head to toe biker leathers, palm guards, custom Metal Storm 9mm in each hand and at least three knife sheaths visible hinting silver, I was all that in scary-yet-feminine ass-kicking. Hell, a trench coat, a pair of shades and some theme music and I’d be a regular box-office bad-ass. I’d have been feeling like a bad-ass, too, except two things ruined it for me.
One of them was the way Carlyle, also known as handsome henchman number two, kept looking at me. It was like he was wondering how many licks it took to get to my creamy caramel center and was intent of finding out first hand…over an extended period of time, no less.
That may sound semi-erotic to some, but when it’s a big, strapping, not-fully-sane Shifter, some looks you should never be on the receiving end of, no matter how good he looks in leather.
The other thing ruining my evening was that although the guns had had to come out, no one believed I would shoot yet. That disbelief meant someone was going to have to die for me to get the boys out of here alive.
I didn’t overly mind on a personal level. Unyanka made the mistake of believing that bringing me deeper into the club would intimidate me and throw me off. All it had actually ended up doing was changing the ratio of people I could shoot without remorse.
As I backed up from the advancing crowd, it was as if they had numbers on their foreheads. I knew exactly what order I’d kill them in and right now could get off twenty shots before I’d be tempted to start wounding instead of using lethal force. Considering there were only thirty-four people in the room and two of them were leaving with me, it was rather sad commentary on her associates. That or my standards were slowly dropping over time. I was all right with both interpretations.
What I was not all right with was the idea of putting the two boys through watching their rescuer blow people away as part of the cavalry tactics. It wasn’t the violence, although with their kidnapping and the resulting hospitalization of their bodyguard they’d been through more than enough of that. It also wasn’t the spreading of death which I’d hoped they’d seen considerably less of in their short lives. It was the combination of the two. Explosive rounds were not gentle or subtle; they were exactly what their name implied, explosive. I’d aim for hearts at first, but it was just a matter of time before headshots would become necessary.
I spoke out, my voice carrying easily to the back. The timbre was relaxed, and I was willing to just let it all flow. “Why don’t you all just take a seat and have a drink? The boys and I will take our leave and no one has to get hurt.”
“Except for you.” It was a thick gravel-like rumble from my right. See Bruno there, he was definitely not flowing.
He was a large husky body builder type in torn jeans and a wife beater. He had that hunch to his shoulders of certain Weres, making them continuously look in mid-moment of First Phase Shift.
“The Priar said if you could get out with the boys, you were not to be stopped or harmed. But you’re not out yet.”
His deeply tanned head was completely bald and shone in the vibrant overhead lights as he cocked it to his right and grinned. I don’t think he would have still been smiling if he’d seen Carlyle’s outraged expression. I know I wasn’t happy. I’d seen him look at a vid-feed of Unyanka like that and did not appreciate the comparison.
Big Lyle had moved up on the body builder in a silent, lethally possessive response that said he really was wondering about having me. And not in the cannibalistic, I-might-have-to-make-sure-to-kill-him kind of way that had brought me comfort a short while ago. Now he looked like he was going to rip off Bruno’s head for daring to threaten me, as if I were a mate or lover. That was so much more disturbing than eating me alive for various reasons. I tried to cheer myself up by considering he might have just been protective of his snack. Low blood sugar made people cranky about their food.
“Look. The boys are mine. That’s not in dispute. And unless there’s been a coup in the fifteen minutes it took me to get here, you’re under orders to give them to me, as creative in interpreting them as you may be.” The almost bored tone in my voice was not an affectation. This was getting old quick, not to mention uncalled for.
I mean, okay, there could have been a coup. Vampire and Were politics alike were a many treacherous thing. It was known for the winds of change to shift unexpectedly. No pun intended. Still, fifteen minutes would be a damn record.
I let my eyes sweep over them. I had let them draw closer because I wanted them that way; it was like cream rising to the top. If I considered the wall at my back the bottom, the more decent the person, the more distance they floated away from me toward the top of the room. This left me a perfect opportunity to pick off their more disreputable cohorts without effort or concern of right-bullet-wrong-person once folks wised up enough to start ducking behind others. The divide had hit peak and I was ready for a little room, and let them know it.
“Okay, everyone can just stop moving now.”
My back found wall and I could start mapping the room once they stopped moving. An accountant looking type in a dark blue linen suit to my left looked from the guns to my face as if to say they wouldn’t be enough. I cleared things up for him.
“I could cut you down to the last and still have eight bullets left. I’ve already done the math. It’s just about who gets shot first at this point for me.”
He paused. Something in my voice tipped him off that despite anything he’d heard to the contrary, I was far from kidding. His halted steps brought others to a stop in a domino effect. It looked like things could work with minimal bloodshed after all. Then Bruno, whose name was likely something closer to Chet, decided to speak again.
“I can’t believe you people. You’re acting like lap-dogs to the last. You know she’s not going to shoot. This is just like back at Brewster’s. Only now she doesn’t have her kittens to protect her.”
Brewster’s! Dammit! You leave a couple of folks alive one time and you had to shoot people for a year before everyone remembered you meant business. I’d guessed it was rumors from that Job fueling the resistance in the room, but hearing it said was worse.
Bruno turned to the man beside him. “Come on Ollie. Go take the baby girl’s squirt guns away.”
Oliver, all blond hair, brown eyed, six-foot-track-star-in-gothic-velvet-goodness of him, was one of Unyanka’s lieutenants and my second least favorite person in the room. But I was willing to let him jump line and get shot first if necessary. I still felt the need to warn them though. I’m just too good to the bad guys.
“We can play this any way you need to play it. But let me give fair warning for those of you who haven’t heard: I do not make idle threats. I do not take being told ‘no’ well. And I do not mind killing just about any of you if you force my hand. But I would, in fact, like to leave most of you alive and intact.” I said evenly. Seeing I still had their attention I went on.
“That said, I will shoot the next person to walk toward me. Unless, of course, it ends up being one of you I’d like to leave intact, in which case I’ll shoot someone randomly in your stead. Now give me the boys or let’s play who gets to bleed. I’m tired at this point and will take either route. They both lead to the door for me.”
It was a good speech in that it worked on almost everyone. Of course the one person to step forward just had to be one of the folks I wanted to shoot the absolute least and would try to subdue if it came to fight. Why did they always do that?
“You’re not really going to shoot someone.”
He wasn’t classically handsome but rather, quite cute in a majored in Romantic Poets of the 19th Century, hunky scholar, kind of way. Light blue eyes slid almost imperceptibly to Ollie as the scholar ran a hand through short brown hair with blond highlights. I liked the way it looked. The way he looked, right down to the dark blue jeans and silk blue shirt.
That he was signaling me made me like him all the more. With a casual shift of the left 9mm’s muzzle I sent a single bullet into Ollie’s chest. His heart exploded with a sound I could actually hear. I never even turned my head.
“You were saying?”
Bruno jumped up and got a bullet in the thigh. It’s not that I didn’t want to kill him; I was sure the world wouldn’t miss him. It just amused me more to let him writhe in pain for a while as a continual reminder. For good measure I killed numbers one, three and four on my list just to catch up to Bruno’s place in line.
With four dead and one injured in less than ten seconds everyone was frozen and I let the gun sights rest on numbers six and seven. Although by then I knew that if I didn’t already have their attention at that point, the only thing that would get it was full auto, and the time for single shots would have passed.
With Bruno’s moans in the background like a soundtrack I spoke.
“We found out who got to bleed first. If there are no further misunderstandings of my intent, I’ll take the boys and go. Otherwise I’ll just wait until everyone is dead and take them then.”
With the clarity of my peripheral there was no one I couldn’t see. Many of their faces showed an open respect and they took a collective step back as if finally understanding what they were dealing with. My Scholar spoke out.
“You could take what you wanted. You’re strong enough to keep it.” His words were rife with meaning and I saw angry glances tossed his way. He ignored the glares so I did too as I responded.
“I’m taking what’s mine and going. That’s it. Just what’s mine. Now somebody better move quickly before I’m convinced you’ve all chosen the mass grave option of this game.”
I heard someone frantically working the shackles that held the two boys to the far bar and looked up, my eyes sliding over a Canid not much older than the boys themselves. He’d been dressed to look tough, wearing an open leather vest and matching pants. He even pulled it off with broad shoulders and a sculpted stomach. Not even the soft cascade of dark blond hair could take from the toughness. It was the kicked puppy look in his eyes as he worked the shackles and shot me glances that stole any air of thugness from him.
I looked to the Scholar. “Bring the boys to me now.”
He moved immediately, used to taking orders or suffering the discipline of another. Who was that other, I wondered? One of the ones I’d already shot? Ollie? No, Ollie had been too far away from such a prize. But another of the dead? Is that what he meant about taking what I wanted? Had he or others already come to be mine by the deaths here so far, or did I need to shoot a few more people? No one was wearing collars, cuffs, or badges so I couldn’t tell who belonged to whom without a detailed study of their auras. I simply didn’t have time for that in the moment.
But I needed to figure it out quick. I wasn’t Pack, but I held standing in all Shifter communities. That standing would unfortunately increase as much by the night’s body count as from my successful retrieval of the boys. But what could be said? It was a violent world.
Scholar brought the boys in quick steps. There was everything but a wagging tail to go with his eager movements. Any pleasure in the completion of his task, however, was cut short, as halfway to me number seven on my list suddenly rushed forward and grabbed him by the hair. The words were growled but it seemed he asked My Scholar what he was doing. I answered for him.
“He’s bringing me the boys like I told him to. Allow him to obey.”
The boys had actually reached me as I was speaking. The one that freed them had followed behind My Scholar and rushed forward with the boys just as number seven stepped forward.
The man holding My Scholar, the one I knew without doubt owned him, spat his words at me.
“You are not Thaddeus’ Mistress to obey. You have your whelps, now go.”
Okay. I was the one that used obey first. A definite no-no in reference to another’s, what, property? Slave? Pet? I wasn’t sure what each individual in his Sect called their Collared Submissives. But I knew you didn’t mess with someone else’s. Shifters had been found in little furry pieces over such things.
Still, I don’t like someone being stopped from following my orders. I don’t care what the situation is. But I especially don’t like it when it’s done by number seven on my list to shoot. Seven is too close to one to be catching attitude with me, especially when I’m in the right.
“You will let him go and he will walk to me in completion of his task. This is non-negotiable. His obedience in this matter is mine to have and I shall. Period.
“Thaddeus. Come. Now.”
Yes. I was getting big and it really wasn’t a big deal over all. But the principal of the matter demanded that I leave an impression. My dominance had been challenged by the entire room. Challenging one of their claims even for a moment was justly deserved. Not to mention he’d pissed me off. Decorum was not an option.
To his credit, Thaddeus attempted to pull free and the hand in his hair took crueler hold, causing him to let out the barest sound. I knew nails must have been digging into his scalp for him to have made any sound at all. The well-trained were silent unless you liked to hear them scream.
Thaddeus’ body was directly between me and number seven, and the growling coward reveled in placing a hand that was rapidly growing claws on Thaddeus’ throat.
“I will rip out his throat before I give him to you. He might survive but the pain would be excruciating and there would be permanent scars. What are you going to do, Little Sprite? Back down and leave already. You bore me.”
There’s a sadness to the concept of dying bored and I wondered if it crossed his mind in the wake of the bullet doing just that. I watched his grey matter splatter the person behind him but not too closely as I let my focus follow the shooting of number six and took aim at number nine. Yeah, I skipped eight, but something in her shock seemed genuine and I rethought her position in the order. Before I could decide on the new number eight the accountant spoke.
“Wait. Please. Thaddeus, go to her. He’s yours, Hierophant. You are his Mistress to obey.”
Hierophant. Now there’s a title I hadn’t heard in quite some time. Finally some true cooperation. Thaddeus ran to me and placed the boys’ hands upon my shoulders without ever blocking the guns. It was exactly as I would have had him do it. The look in his eyes up close was the same as the young tough that came over with the boys. I glanced toward him.
“You, what’s your name?”
“I’m Raphael, Mistress.”
It moved in his eyes, in his voice, the same pain as Scholar. They were being abused and no one in their Sect cared enough to find out about it, or either pretended not to know about it. In turn, they had no way out themselves because they didn’t have enough status to challenge higher-ranking members here like others did elsewhere. It was unfortunately not the first or twenty-first time I’d seen it. It was high on the list of what made it easy to pull the trigger on some of these Jobs.
Submission was a trust, a sacred exchange of energies every bit as honorable as that between equals. That some Sects could make a mockery, a violation of it….very easy to pull the trigger. Too easy.
“Okay, Raphael, why don’t you get the door for me.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
A woman forty feet to our left leapt toward him with a snarl only to be caught by another male and slammed to the floor. She looked ready to shift, which, in a space this small, with blood and pheromones in the air, was definitely not a good idea. She must have really been pissed. Hmm…Raphael’s mistress and he’d called me such out of turn?
“He is not yours to strike!” It was Tyson speaking to her. Of those in here I didn’t want to shoot, he was the single solitary individual among the Dominants I wouldn’t even want to strike unconscious. I’d try to talk him down first rather than touch him in anger. He was the only thing that made me think the Sect could survive once Unyanka was dead. Well, him and Carlyle believe it or not.
My gaze found gaze found Carlyle just behind my thoughts. I’d thankfully forgotten about him and the way he’d been looking at me. It helped survival being in the high teens, in this case nineteen, on a list that only went to twenty. Once the shooting started I tended to disregard you until I needed to notice you again. He was closer than I remembered, and looked deceptively sane now that Bruno was down and the threats to me had stopped. I didn’t want to consider what that could mean, so I turned by attention back to Tyson who was growling out words to the woman on the floor.
“Bria is dead and Raphael recognizes his new Mistress. She said she would take what was hers and that is all that has happened.”
Okay, so not his mistress, and not high enough rank to challenge Tyson’s authority. She didn’t warrant any more of my attention.
“Come, Raphael. We’re leaving.”
He had used the mistress word on his own. He wasn’t disputing my dominance over him and I didn’t ask him if he wished to go. No show of hesitation or doubt.
I looked to Tyson. “You know where to send the rest of my things?”
It was Carlyle who responded. “Yes, Hierophant, we will make sure they all get to you. There are detailed records of everything.”
Records. Assets. I’d gained assets. I’d been referring to Thaddeus’ and Raphael’s things. Now because it was thought I’d mentioned them I had assets coming. I didn’t like things with paper trails. I’d find a way to give everything I couldn’t immediately liquidate back to the Sect through the Priar; perhaps smooth things over so other Sects didn’t hear as many horror stories. I gave a short nod to the room as a whole.
“Well with that all settled then, goodnight, everyone.”
I didn’t give the room my back as I left. I didn’t let the club out of my sight until we’d climbed in the H4-X hybrid and were physically no longer in line of sight. The moment the club faded from my rearview mirror, I sighed and gave an internal headshake.
I’d gone out for a legitimate task. Retrieval of two boys, innocents caught up in politics that were not yet their own. A simple job, walk in as one, walk out as three, drop them off, get paid, go home, that was the plan. Somehow I’d walked out as five and could only drop off two of them.
At least I was still getting paid.
Took one straightforward job and now I was going home with two Submissive Shifters…..again.
I have got to stop doing this.
Copyright 2007
