First Rule of the Cutthroat Vampire Collective, page 1
J.J. Arias
First Rule of the Cutthroat Vampire Collective: Don’t Fall For The Target
A lesbian paranormal romance novelette in the Dusk Queen series
Copyright © 2019 by J.J. Arias
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
The Job
About the Author
Also by J.J. Arias
The Job
“This is a touch ambitious.” Alethia quirked a carrot-colored eyebrow, her vibrant, hazel-green eyes peering over the top of the paper in her hand.
Morris stared blankly at the tall vampire. “Spare me the commentary. You want the job or not?”
The papers on Morris’ desk crunched under the weight of Alethia’s lean body as she took a seat on top of his glass desk. “What’s the payout?” she asked, carelessly throwing one long leg over the other and making herself comfortable. Morris pushed himself back, the wheels of his high-back chair complaining as they rolled his thick body a foot away from Alethia.
His gaze was a challenge. “Normal rate.”
“Are you fucking joking?” Alethia’s posh British accent took the sting out of her curse. “You want the head of the Zapata Cartel eliminated” –she let out a joyless laugh— “and you want to pay the standard rate?” Her face snapped back to a sober expression in dramatic fashion.
When Morris’ reply was a vacant stare, Alethia hopped off the desk and threw the scrap of paper with the name Francisca Zapata scribbled on it, back in his face.
“Double,” he called out before she took more than a couple of long strides toward the glass door.
“She’s practically a demigod, Morris.” Alethia tossed the fact over her shoulder and continued walking.
“Triple,” he countered.
Her elegant fingers wrapped around the steel knob. “She’s a bloody Amazon.”
Morris sighed. “Name it then,” he said, leaning back in his chair to await Alethia’s return.
“Who wants to off her and why?” She was lounging in the black leather chair across from his desk before the man blinked twice.
“I’m not in the business of asking questions.” His voice was a monotone black hole. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He was a practiced hand at dealing with different assassins and knew their strengths. Alethia’s gift for reading inner most emotions wouldn’t do her any good with him.
“I suppose when it isn’t your neck on the line, the need for further inquiry diminishes considerably.” Her bubblegum pink lips curled into a devilish smirk. “How many have already turned you down?”
Morris’ hesitation offered Alethia some insight. He’s debating whether to lie to me. His fingers found the scruff of his white beard as he considered his options. “Everyone,” he admitted in a surprising display of honesty.
“Everyone?” Alethia laughed genuinely. “Even Victor?” Her bright eyes opened wide in astonishment. “That lunatic will take anything,” she muttered to herself.
Morris closed his eyes for a few seconds before nodding.
“The Queen hasn’t sanctioned this, has she?” Alethia’s question was a knowing accusation.
Morris shook his head.
“Well,” she kicked her booted feet up onto the desk. “This will be a lucrative endeavor indeed.” Her grin was a cold and terrifying thing.
“I’m sure a talented murderer like yourself will have no problems acquiring this target,” he said, trying his hand at flattery and failing miserably.
Alethia ignored him. Her mind was already a thousand miles and plotting.
* * *
“Will you be away long, Miss Carlisle?” A petite woman followed closely behind Alethia as the tall redhead took stock of her travel needs. “I can pack more variety for you,” she offered, her pale gray eyes darting around the room but never landing directly on her employer.
“I shouldn’t be away longer than a fortnight,” Alethia confirmed, stopping in front of a locked armoire. Its ancient wooden doors, embossed with ornamental filigree, had lost its silvery shimmer long ago. “Be a dear and fetch me the case,” she called to the woman who scurried away as soon as she’d guessed Alethia’s needs.
A long intricate golden key fit snugly inside the lock hidden at the bottom of the piece. A succession of locks clicked, and the doors opened softly as Alethia stepped back to peruse her options. She ran her fingertips over a long thin sword hanging in the center of the armoire.
“I can’t take you this time, gorgeous,” she whispered apologetically to her oldest possession before touching the engraved hilt of the antique long sword. “Not quite the right tool for taking down an ancient female warrior.”
Alethia pulled a black fingerless glove from a sculpted hand form. She slid it over her own hand and strapped on the sheath stuffed full of long, sharp, throwing knives. The glove and the knives situated in individual slots around her wrist fit perfectly.
The rest of the armoire was filled with dozens of weapons, including two different crossbows. One was folded up and the picture of modern technology, while the other was a relic from a war long passed. She’d gone directly for the long sniper rifle and specialized scope. Distance would be the key to taking down a target stronger than her. Alethia grabbed the carrying case where she would pack the broken-down rifle and carry it on her back.
“I suppose a backup plan would be wise,” she muttered to herself. A long dagger, with its gilded handle, fit into the sheath strapped around her thigh. “Can never be too sure,” she decided before grabbing two additional handguns and the shoulder holster they fit into. Boxes of ammunition joined the rest of her gear, and she set to packing it all in a specialized backpack hoping it wouldn’t come to such barbaric means of executing her mission.
* * *
Winds whipped the dark blue sails of Alethia’s weatherly boat as she struggled to steer toward the green speck of land on the horizon. The full moon had offered enough light to sail by, but on the approach, a thick fog had started rolling up from the choppy ocean.
Saltwater splashed in her face as the boat banked hard to one side, nearly laying it out flat and throwing the redhead overboard. She jumped up on the hull to reach a crank that tightened the sails, but it did little to counter the heavy gales and gusts tossing the sailboat around like a child’s bath toy.
“Damn it,” she cursed the rough sea.
There was still quite a distance between herself and the island. She took her chances and battled the wind to roll up part of the sail in an effort to avoid capsizing.
“You’re a crafty one, aren’t you?” she asked the nonexistent woman in front of her. It was no coincidence this island was not just remote but was constantly protected by the worst weather on any ocean.
“Bollocks,” she sighed as she dashed back to the helm. Two massive jagged rocks appeared out of nowhere through the dense wall of fog. She pulled hard on the wheel to force the bow away from a head-on-collision.
Her back muscles strained and her biceps burned as she wrestled the boat into compliance. The effort was rewarded as she narrowly escaped disaster, but the side of the sailboat wasn’t so fortunate.
Alethia could do little but wince as the starboard side was fitted with a long gash carved into the haul. “Lovely,” she muttered when she’d assessed the damage after clearing the rocks. As she cut through the fog, she noticed the ring of rocks extended far beyond just the two she’d contended with.
The depth finder beeped loudly with alarm as it warned that the sea floor was rushing up to meet them. Violent winds kicked up as Alethia used her entire body to steer the boat toward an area deep enough to sail.
Her pupils dilated as she turned to summon the strength needed to stay upright. Her fangs gleamed in the moonlight as she grimaced while battling the helm. She focused on the cove cut into the cliff-side and headed for it like her life depended on it.
The depth finder rang its alarm as she struggled not to run ashore before reaching the sanctuary. “Come on, stay with me,” she begged as she willed the sailboat to remain just shy of the rocky bottom.
Before the fiberglass and wood split apart, Alethia managed to angle the boat into the cove and find protection from the winds and punishing waves. As the waves broke on the other side of the jagged rocks, they surged onto the boat and made tying up to the rock a mission nearly impossible.
Even anchored and moored, Alethia couldn’t be sure the current wouldn’t sweep away her getaway vessel. She’d have to hope that it would still be there when she returned. If she returned.
Below deck, Alethia’s excellent balance kept her on her feet as she retrieved her pack. She battened down the hatches and ensured anything that moved was well secured before loading herself into the inflated dinghy.
Alethia gripped the oars ha
“Naturally,” she said with a smile. This job wouldn’t pay so well if weren’t nearly impossible. The money would be nice, the prestige even nicer. She rowed through the high surf and rip currents until landing with the sea foam on the black sand beach.
She wiped the salt from her brow as she evaluated the rock face. From a distance it looked like a flat, unscalable surface, but up close, she saw plenty of grooves she’d be able to exploit as she climbed.
With her pack strapped tightly to her back and her holsters snuggly at her sides, Alethia flew up the side of the rock wall. Speed and an iron grip were all she counted on as the wind did its best to dislodge her from the cliff.
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” she complimented her adversary when she’d crested the summit.
A volcano smoked ominously in the distance as Alethia looked down on a miles deep crater the size of a small town. The lush vegetation covering the caldera would be stunning if the grim presence of death from a volcanic eruption weren’t looming over it.
“The beautiful ones are always a bit murderous, I suppose,” she decided aloud before starting toward the peaks in the distance.
* * *
With sunrise looming, Alethia picked up her pace. Hacking through vegetation wasn’t the intended purpose of her blade, but she made use of the sharp dagger to ease her passage through the steamy land. When she came upon a staircase cut into the rock face and covered in moss and grass, she wiped her dagger clean before slipping it into the thigh holster and trekked silently up the incline.
The sound of carefree voices were carried by the winds, stopping Alethia’s advance. She listened intently to determine how many warriors might be in the area. Half a dozen at the very least. When the women sounded further away than when she’d first heard them, she continued cautiously.
Alethia peeked over the top of the ridge. It was a smaller version of the much larger crater and home to a chain of glass houses with a large, multilevel mansion in the center. Bold choice.
In the rock wall just beneath her, Alethia spotted an alcove deep enough to shelter her from the sun while still allowing a bird’s-eye view of the land below. It would have to do until dusk.
The sky lightened on the horizon before Alethia’s target emerged from the largest of the modern looking buildings so strangely situated at the foot of a volcano. Francisca was unmistakable, standing several inches taller than the formidable women surrounding her, and exuding indisputable confidence; she was the clear leader.
Alethia moved as silently as death itself as she assembled her sniper rifle. Through the high-powered scope and her keen eyesight, she saw the morning dew on the leaves a meter behind Francisca’s head.
What a pretty head it is, she thought to herself. Such a shame that I’m going to have to blow it off for the handsome reward. She lingered on the shiny black hair falling softly over Francisca’s exposed shoulders. The white of her tight tank top highlighted her bright olive skin and drew Alethia’s curiosity about what she looked like without the clothes.
As Alethia watched, Francisca barked orders and flexed her muscular body in the sun. Her bellowed laugh echoed through the crater and rivaled the simmering volcano for the most imposing island feature. When the creeping sun blistered Alethia’s skin and forced her to the back of the alcove, she took the opportunity to rest in the shade and devise a game plan.
It really is a shame, Alethia decided as she considered her target, to waste such an ancient beauty. She’d have to use the distance to her advantage. In a hand-to-hand battle, Francisca would undoubtedly best her. At six feet, Alethia was tall and strong, but Francisca was taller and stronger.
I’ll wait until just before sundown for a clear headshot. In the ensuing chaos she would be able to hightail it back to her boat without being discovered. Alethia glanced at her weaponry. And if she couldn’t get out cleanly, she’d have no choice but to take down whoever stood in her way.
Morris would want proof that the job had been completed, and while she often enjoyed taking unusual trophies as evidence, she wouldn’t risk it on this job. Video evidence from her small recording device would have to be good enough.
Alethia closed her eyes and ran through her plan, considering contingencies depending on how many surrounded the Amazon and where they might be placed. Even though none of the women appeared armed, Alethia didn’t discount the possibility that their own sharpshooters were nestled in concealed positions. Even turrets mounted in the trees wouldn’t surprise her. The island’s natural defenses were strong but not impenetrable. They would have a plan to guard against intruders.
* * *
The heat abated as the sun finally turned a warm orange and sizzled into the dark ocean waters. A cool breeze mussed Alethia’s hair as she crept to the edge of the alcove once more. She wasted no time in setting up her sniper rifle and peering through the scope to locate her target.
“Damn,” she cursed. Alethia saw Francisca well enough, but she was behind glass and surrounded by a dozen others. The windows were certain to be tempered and treated to resist storms. Even her high-powered bullets might not shatter the glass cleanly and find her target’s temple.
“No matter,” she whispered. There was no need to rush. She had all night, or as long as the boat isn’t discovered, becomes unmoored, or shatters against the rocks, she considered nervously. Alethia pushed the worry aside; escape was still several steps away. She would concern herself with that later if leaving became complicated.
Alethia watched from her perch as Francisca led her Amazons in an enormous feast. She poured wine and laughed as a pair carried in a large, roasted pig. Alethia couldn’t help noticing that she’d painted her full lips a lovely shade of red.
“How gracious you are, Frankie,” she said with a smirk when the woman carved a massive piece of meat and served it to who Alethia guessed was her second-in-command. The scene made Alethia’s guts grumble in complaint. She should have fed before embarking on her mission. It had been a mistake not to account for how long the trip would take. I should have at least drained a bag, she thought as she remembered the blood bags stocked in the cabin of her boat.
The party continued with the women below happily ignorant that death stared at them from above. After dinner, one of Francisca’s crew ambled full bellied to an enormous fire pit and picked up felled tree trunks as if they were little more than toothpicks. Before the night was truly upon them, the bonfire was roaring and the rest of the Amazons had joined the first.
Songs filled the night sky as the women sang in a foreign tongue. The melody enchanted Alethia as she surveilled them. Still too many, she decided, waiting for the group to thin.
When Francisca stood, the others fell silent. Alethia inched forward to the edge as if the minimal shift would afford her an even better vantage point. The fire danced in Francisca’s eyes as she opened her mouth and released a mournful sound. The song sent chills up Alethia’s spine. She didn’t need to understand the words to experience the emotion they conveyed. Warriors wiped their eyes as she held her diaphragm and belted out the dramatic notes.
Alethia’s finger slipped over the trigger. It was the perfect shot she’d been waiting for. With the woman standing alone and apart from the others, there was no risk of hitting the wrong target and alerting them to her presence before completing her mission. The winds were low and the night clear. She would almost have to try to miss the target caught in her crosshairs.
She aimed for the final time, regretful at the loss of such a beauty but eager for the bragging rights. Once she’d completed the job, there’d be no doubt as to her rightful status as the best in the game.
An anguished scream rang out, cutting Francisca’s song short. Chaos took the place of celebration as they scattered and bolted toward the same point in the rainforest behind them.
What the hell… Alethia’s heart raced as she looked down to inspect her weapon. It hadn’t been fired yet. Before she puzzled out what had occurred, a blood-curdling scream and a loud boom forced her attention back to the land below. The bonfire had been dwarfed by an explosion.
