Predatory

A/N: I am so sorry for the inconsistent updating. The short explanation is that my job is extremely demanding lately and I’ve been really tired and uninspired as a result. I don’t want to publish rubbish just to say I updated, and so unfortunately this inconsistency is likely to continue. Please accept my most heartfelt apologies, and know that I want to write a lot more than I’m able to and that your support means the world to me. Happy reading!

SASHA POV

The stairs are dark, and the loud music from above makes it very easy for me to creep into the lower level unnoticed by the vampires that occupy it. All of them seem to be focused on the end of the room furthest from the stairs, where several cages containing human captives line one wall. I conceal myself in a shadowy corner at the foot of the stairs to plot my attack strategy and carefully dislodge my sword from its hiding place; years of this work have taught me never to charge blindly into a job if I can avoid it.

The cages are on raised platform, which also boasts a podium, at which stands a vampire in a tailcoat and top hat. He seems to be performing the duties of auctioneer; currently he points an old-school, gold-topped cane at one of the cages, which contains a human girl, perhaps sixteen years old, who is very clearly drugged but still scared out of her mind, as anyone might be, in her situation. Apart from the vampire on the platform, there are about 35 vampires down here, several of whom are placing bids on the girl.

“Do I hear $300?” the auctioneer calls.

“$350!” one of the ones in the audience shouts. I’ve seen enough.

“All of your lives,” I counter ominously, tossing a few of my garlic-holy water grenades into their midst. “These activities are in clear violation of WASP laws. The punishment for this egregious conduct…is execution.”

Chaos. The vampires are choking, their skin burning as the grenades explode among them. The one on the stage shouts something about getting me, but I have my sword in one hand and a wooden stake in the other, ready for action. The nearest vampire tries to get past me to the stairs, and I decapitate her while shoving my stake into her heart in a maneuver I’ve practiced thousands of times. Spin kick, impale and slice, over and over again, as the vampires rush me, trying to overwhelm me and escape the death trap they’ve made for themselves. One foolishly tries to disarm me and I land a forceful kick on his chest, sending him flying into the nearest wall, which shudders at the impact.

“Someone stop her!” the auctioneer cries. Four of the vampires in the crowd come at me at once. The staking and beheading need to be more or less simultaneous for maximum efficacy, making four a challenge, so I drop another grenade amongst them, momentarily blinding them. In four seconds, two of the four are down, already disintegrating into dust around the stakes through their undead hearts. Kick one in the head, sending her stumbling backwards; fourth one runs into my stake and the sword slices through his neck like it’s butter. He must have been quite old. The newer ones are tougher, not as dried out. The one I kicked comes back towards me, and I’m ready to meet her, having recovered a stake from one of her dearly departed comrades.

Others are clawing at my back, trying to stop me, but another grenade deters them. The grenades’ contents weaken my opponents and slow them down, in addition to burning their skin. The dance of slicing and impaling continues through air thickly hazy with garlic powder and holy water mist. Those grenades are one of WASP’s better inventions. None of them have made it through the choke point I’ve created at the bottom of the stairs, not that it would matter if they did; I have the key to the upstairs door in an inner pocket of my jacket. Now only five of my targets are left, including the auctioneer, and all of them look completely terrified.

“Who the fuck are you?!” one of them demands, brandishing a laughably small knife. Apparently most of them don’t come armed to events like these. Pity. I would have preferred a challenge.

“An agent of justice,” I respond, rushing to send him to his end. Another tries to intercept me, but I anticipate her movements and have her impaled and beheaded in two seconds, like so many of the others.

“Haven’t you killed enough of us?!” the auctioneer demands. He’s been fumbling with his cane this whole time and has finally drawn a sword out of it.

“The law is absolute. All who participate in these crimes must perish. There is no room for compassion, only the law.” In the time it’s taken for us to exchange these words, the other three have fallen at my hands. There remain only him and me and the human captives. The conscious ones among them have been watching all of this intently, with eyes like saucers; likely they fear me at least as much as they fear their vampire captors, not that I blame them. We’ll have to call in support staff to deal with them. The auctioneer lunges for me with his sword, and I parry his strike. Despite his apparent terror, this one at least has combat training. I can’t resist the urge to toy with him a bit, engaging in about twenty seconds’ worth of hand-to-hand combat before spinning behind him on another parry, kicking him to the floor, and impaling and decapitating him there on the ground once he’s prone.

Through it all, the prevailing sounds have been those of the mediocre metal band playing upstairs, and the crowd cheering and clapping between songs. No wonder they decided to put this operation here, underneath a hybrid bar/concert venue. Any noises made down here would be drowned out by the bands playing above.

Now that the main job is done, the room is something of a mess. There are a few blood splatters from the vampires who had recently fed, and several corpses in various states of decomposition, along with a great deal of decay dust. The clothes from the vampires are scattered across the floor, all unsalvageable because of the impalement holes in the shirts and all the blood and dust. The garlic powder and holy water are starting to settle; that’s just a matter of time. My clothes are somewhat shredded; the key to the main door is still securely in my pocket, but pieces of my jeans and jacket are missing, and of course there’s decay dust and blood spatters all over me.

“What the hell was that?” one of the girls in the cages asks tremulously, staring at me like I’m some sort of monster. I guess, to her, I might be.

“You’re safe now,” I answer her as I use the mock fitness tracker on my wrist to let Zoe know that we’ll need some sort of support staff to rehab these humans. They’ll need their memories selectively wiped—WASP employs fae who are quite good at that sort of thing—and to be returned to their families. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay put while I clean up this mess and we wait for some people to get here who can help you.”

My wrist buzzes with Zoe’s reply, asking if I’m done. Of course I’m done, or I wouldn’t be texting you. I tell her I’m done and need help with cleanup, then make my way up the stairs again to wait. When I see Zoe’s combat boots through the crack at the bottom of the door, I push the key under it. Moments later, Zoe slips inside, locking the door again behind her.

“I think you did that in record time,” she whispers as we make our way back down the stairs, where the captives are starting to get vocal about wanting to be let out. “How many of them were there?”

“About 36, I think. I wasn’t counting,” I reply casually. It’s not the most I’ve ever taken out in one go.

“Sasha Sukoshku strikes again. Shit, girl, you’re a mess! That outfit was really cute, too. Do you ever do this cleanly?”

“I thought getting it done and staying alive were more important than keeping my clothes intact.”

“Any injuries?”

“Probably some scratches and bruises but nothing major. I’m not in pain.”

“Well, that’s good. Let’s check out the offices and use one of them as a changing room for you.”

“Good idea. Any idea on ETA for support staff?”

“Rika will let us know when they’re here. We have to move quickly, though. I left her alone with our lycan friends.”

“That won’t end well.” Lycans and vampires typically don’t get along. We enter one of the offices and Zoe closes the door behind us, then tosses me her messenger bag so I can clean myself up with some baby wipes and change into the extra outfit we packed for me.

“She’s playing up that she has the same musical taste as Xander, which is complete bullshit, but you know how good she is at this,” Zoe informs me as she rummages through the desk and cabinets in the tiny office. “She’s really selling it. They should be okay for at least a little bit.”

“You both are excellent at that part of the job. I’m glad I’ve gotten to miss it so far, though. Any idea how her plan for dealing with the staff upstairs has gone?”

“None whatsoever. The lycans showed up while you were both away.”

“Fabulous. I should probably investigate that before joining all of you at the table. Maybe I should wait on changing until—”

“Sasha, you look like you committed a homicide in the dustiest house on earth. No. Clean yourself up, and you’ll just have to make sure that any additional kills you make tonight are less messy.”

“Any good documents or anything in there?”

“I’ve pulled a few things. There’s some financial documents, and several flash drives. Have you looked in the other office yet?”

“No, but I will if you’ll get the girls out of those cages.”

“Shouldn’t we try to use a key?”

“Fake it with the key from that door,” I suggest, tossing her the key in question. “I haven’t searched any of the corpses for cage keys, but they’d be with the auctioneer—tails and top hat—if they’re anywhere.”

“Fair. Should we try to clean all this up?”

“Probably. Maybe there’s, like, a broom and some garbage bags or something in one of these offices.”

“Might be. Here, let me dust your hair off…. There. You’re presentable. Let’s go.”

Zoe shoves the documents and flash drives she’s found into her messenger bag when I return it to her; my ruined clothes will go with the ruined clothes from the vampires, straight into the garbage. Then we both leave the raided office, and Zoe goes to see to the captives while I investigate the other office, which, fortunately for us, turns out to actually be something of a supply closet. Within there are boxes of paper products, various cleaning implements and solutions, and a whole crate of garbage bags.

When I come back out, Zoe has opened all of the cages and is convincing the human captives to sit down on the platform while I clean up the remains of the executed vampires. Then she pulls out her phone and darts up the stairs, brandishing the key I tossed to her earlier.

“What the hell is going on?!” one of the captives demands.

“I’m really sorry, but there’s not much I can tell you. Please just wait until the police arrive,” I reply in my most professional voice, no mean feat while sweeping up decomposing bones, broken wooden stakes, and garlic grenade casings.

“This is ridiculous! I don’t know where I am, I’m not sure what the hell just happened, and as soon as I get a phone I swear I’m calling my parents, and they’ll get their lawyers involved—” another of the captives, a girl who even in her disheveled state looks and sounds like she comes from money, threatens.

“I know things have been really challenging today, but please try to calm down. You’re safe now, and the police are here to help you,” Zoe interrupts, coming back down the stairs with three individuals I assume she’s verified to be WASP operatives in Columbus police uniforms. By looks, two fae and and a water elemental. Perfect. Water elementals are usually really good at healing, and the fae will handle eliminating problematic memories.

“We’ll take it from here, ladies. Thank you for your work here today,” one of the fae tells us in a tone that means “get out” in no uncertain terms.

“Of course. Thank you for your service,” I reply. “Do you want us to finish cleaning up this mess, or—”

“No, that’s all right. We’ll handle it. From what we saw, you still have business to take care of upstairs.”

“Noted. Thank you. In service of all.” I drop my broom and trash bag and waste no time in joining Zoe on the stairs. Behind me, one of the fae mutters ‘that all may survive,’ which is the requisite response, but still rather ironic coming from someone who’s standing in a vampire graveyard.

“Okay, so, we’ve been using the code names with the lycans,” Zoe whispers to me as we climb. “We told them you’ve been on the phone with your strict parents, and that we’re in town for grad school. I came to help you freshen up because the phone call didn’t go well. What was the call about?”

“Um. Started about grades. I’m struggling in statistics. They’re stressed about money because grad school is expensive. Dad’s pressuring me to sell a kidney or my blood. Mom wants me to find a rich boyfriend or a sugar daddy or something. And my brother is in jail again, which is also a financial strain because they’re trying to scrape bail together.”

“Damn. All right.”

“I have to do a sweep of the bar before I join you, though, to make sure we’ve gotten all the culprits. Tell them…that I called my wealthy great-aunt to try to convince her to send my parents some money, and I’ll join you all as soon as I can.”

“Sounds like a plan. Good job.”

“Don’t congratulate me until we’re done. See you, and Rika, and those damn dogs, in a few minutes.”