Chapter Ten
"So what exactly is it that you want me to do?"
Stavros looked thoughtfully at me. I was used to the light, so now I could look up at him and only squint a little bit. I watched him watching me, and I allowed myself a moment to wonder: Was I making a huge mistake? I mean, I had been training my whole life to fight vampires and other creepy-crawlies. From the time I was six years old my dad had been teaching me, training me, preparing me. Hell, he even shipped me off to California after highschool so that I could train with professional vampire slayers. For twenty years of my life I had been fighting vampires, and now I was going to go work for one? Jesus, what was wrong with me?
"You will be a mercenary," he finally said. "I will pay you to take out those who would threaten my place as master of Los Angeles. With you by my side, no one would dare try to pull what Vera Donna did."
I let just a little of my confusion show on my face as I said, "Are you that worried about your throne? I mean, if you don't think you're strong enough to hold your own seat, then--"
"There are some things about vampire politics you don't understand!" he interrupted. For the first time since I had met him (which actually hadn't been that long) he was angry. He hadn't stricken me as the type of person--read vampire--who would show their anger so easily. Damn, I was good at pushing people's buttons. Stavros closed his eyes for just a moment, and when he opened them he was calm again. "You're a very clever woman, Kayla," he said. "But you just kill vampires. You don't have to deal with them."
He did have a point, as loathe as I was to admit it. I knew enough about vampire politics to kill them, but I wasn't sure what went on behind closed doors. No one was. Vampires were so secretive--and with good reason, since if they weren't people would be slaughtering them like fanged cattle. If I went to work for Stavros, I could see into the whole vampire politics thing. Just thinking about how many vampire slayers that information could help sent a chill down my spine. Goody.
Of course, would I actually have the guts to go to work for the most powerful master vampire I had ever met, and then use the information I learned to help other vampire slayers kill more vamps all over the world?
Maybe.
Stavros rose from his chair and walked over to me, dangling a small metal key from his fingers. "I suppose you'll be wanting out of those handcuffs now," he said.
"It's not nice to treat your employees like prisoners," I said.
He just smiled and knelt down behind me. I swear, he was the only master vampire I had ever met who didn't get angered easily--except for that once. That had been kind of scary. He unlocked the handcuffs and they fell to the floor. I brought my arms around so I could look at my wrists. My muscles didn't think that was such a good idea, and they screamed in protest. I ignored them. Once Stavros was standing again, he offered me a hand. I reached my hand up to grasp his and hated the way my arm shook. I hate being handcuffed. He pulled me to my feet. I was confident now he wasn't going to hurt me, considering I was his newest business investment. Once he had helped me up he put a hand on my elbow and guided me towards the door of his office.
"I will have Chase and Morgana take you home," he said. "I will call you in a few days. Until then, stay home, rest. I want you healed and perfectly healthy before you start."
I want you healed and perfectly healthy before you start. Before I started my new job as a member of his little army. Hmm, which sounded better? Kayla Atrelic, vampire slayer? Or Kayla Atrelic, mercenary?
The doors opened without Stavros having to touch them--I still wondered if it was vampire trickery, or if they were automated. Chase and Morgana were standing right outside. As soon as they saw us--me without the handcuffs and Stavros with his hand on my elbow--they each had very different reactions. Chase looked relieved, probably because I wasn't going to be killed. Morgana looked outraged. I was fighting so hard not to smirk and rub it in her face that we were going to be working together. Not that I was excited about that fact, but I knew it would get under her skin.
Ha, ha, Morgana. Ha, ha.
xXxXxXxXxXx
"Oh, don't forget your guns."
Chase leaned across Morgana--who was making a face like a sullen child--and handed me the two weapons, complete with holsters, through the open passenger-side window. "Thanks," I muttered, feeling much more relieved now that I had the guns in my hands. Their weight was more comforting to me than perhaps anything else in the world. Is that bad? I think that's bad.
"Are you worried?" he asked, searching my face with electric blue eyes. No one could have eyes that blue. At least, no one human. Then again, we had already established Chase wasn't human. So there you are.
"About what?" All right, I admit that the eyes made me forget what we were talking about for a moment. I can't help it if the jerk has gorgeous eyes.
"About working for Stavros," he explained.
I shrugged. "Should I be?"
Morgana chose that moment to acknowledge my existance for the first time since Stavros had announced our arrangement. "He'll make you kill humans, you know," she said. Chase gave his sister a warning look.
"Morg--"
"Could you do it, Kayla?" She leaned towards the window, her hands gripping the car door as she looked up at me. "Could you look a human in the eyes and pull the trigger?"
I really didn't like the way she was looking at me--as if one day, she'd make a meal out of me. I stared down at her coldly and felt myself slip into whatever it was I slipped into when I killed. Could I really kill a person, not a vampire or a werewolf, but a human person? I didn't know. "We'll find out," I told her, and then turned and walked towards my apartment building.
Ever since the Incident in San Francisco, I have become very picky about what I look for in a home. It has to be an apartment, something small and very cheap. It has to be crowded, lots of families with little kids running around and stuff. Contrary to what you see in movies or read in books, most bad guys really do try to avoid civilians when doing their jobs, especially if those civilians are under five years old and play with Tonka trucks or Barbies. So crowded areas with families and plenty of kids are the way to go if you want to avoid any...messy...confrontations.
Of course, little kids aren't going to stop someone who's really determined to get you.
The door wasn't ajar, as it had been five years ago, but I knew someone had been inside my apartment all the same. It's just this feeling you get when you know that your home, your sanctuary, has been tampered with by someone not welcome there. For all I knew, they were still there, waiting for me. Shit. But hey, I did have two guns in my hands, and one of them was actually half-way loaded. Cool.
And let's face it--if it took me more than four shots to deter whatever beastie was inside, then I was in deep shit.
I unlocked the door and pushed it in just a little, and then rolled out of the way, thinking that whoever was inside would try to get that first drop on me as I was coming through the door. No shot came. Whoever was in there was better than I had given them credit for. I went to the other side of the hall and walked until I was on the opposite side of the door. When I was beside my door again, I crouched down, and took the loaded gun in my hand. I crept my hand along the door, counted to ten, and then pushed it open, using enough force to slam it against the wall. I rolled along the wall and pointed the gun inside the apartment.
Whoever was waiting for me was sitting on my couch. The television was on, but the sound was turned down so low that I could barely hear it. Whoever it was had their back to me, and I could just make out a head of long, dark hair in the dim light. "Put that gun away, Kayla," said a voice, causing me to jump and almost fall over. "We both know you're not going to shoot me. Yet."
The "yet" implied that by the time this was done, I probably would want to shoot them more than I did now. Interesting.
With my free hand I reached over and grabbed the empty holster and the other gun. Then, cautiously, I stood and walked into the room, shutting the door behind me--which was kind of hard considering all the shit I happened to be holding. Shutting myself in with someone who had broken into my apartment in broad daylight. Someone who knew my name. Someone who had been waiting for me, had known I had a gun, and was confident I wasn't going to shoot them. Yet.
I must have been getting dumber.
I didn't put the gun away. After I put the empty holster and second gun on the kitchen table (my kitchen is part of my living room, that's how small the place is) I took the loaded gun into both hands. You can't hold a two-handed grip for long, but it beat the hell out of exhausting my good arm. I pointed the gun at the back of the person's head. "Who are you?" I asked. My voice was low, calm. My deadly voice. I was proud of myself, considering how frightened I really was. So much for the bad-guys-hate-to-come-near-little-children theory.
"Why don't you come closer? Maybe you'll recognize me," the person said. "And for the love of Christ, put the damn gun away." The voice was female, almost...soothing. Funny how you can think a person who's out to kill you is soothing. Isn't there some kind of rule against that?
I lowered the gun, but I didn't put it away. Call me paranoid. I walked around the couch slowly, careful not to put my back to the person as I came around. When I saw who it was, I almost dropped the gun out of surprise. "Jesus Christ!"
Vann Fucking Anderson was sitting on my couch, smiling up at me as if it hadn't been five years since we last saw each other. She was dressed very casually. Her acid washed jeans were very tasteful, no rips or anything. Her orange 1970's style top was so billowy that it could have easily hidden two guns--one in an inter-pants holster, the other at the small of her back. It wouldn't be comfortable to sit, but she wouldn't show discomfort. Not if she really wanted those guns there. The neighbors could have seen her and just thought she was a visitor. A friend, a relative. She didn't look dangerous at all.
They were right when they said looks aren't everything.
"Hello, Kayla." She was still smiling, showing white, perfectly aligned teeth. Her skin was so darkly tanned she almost looked black in the dim light of my apartment. The television's brightness was turned down really low--what can I say, I hate light. She got her height and blue eyes from her father, but her dark hair and dark skin came from her Brazilian mother. She was very pretty, and should have been a run-way model instead of a vampire slayer. Oh well.
"What do you want?" I asked. No pleasantries for me. She had scared me half to death, and I find it really hard to be pleasant to people who frighten me.
She stayed utterly calm. If she was a pond and you threw a stone into her, she wouldn't ripple. Wow, that was a weird analogy. Oh well, I'm the one telling the story here. Deal. "I came to see if you had gotten my message," she said.
My mind went blank. I hadn't gotten any message from Vann. Had I? No, of course not. Surely I would have...
Oh.
Realization was like a punch to the gut.
"You're the one who was shooting at me," I said, and I sounded a whole lot more calm than I should have. She just smiled. "Stop smiling, damn it!" I cried. "You tried to kill me!" The gun was up again, safety off, pointed dead-center at Vann's forehead. Even a vampire slayer so powerful she might not be human anymore can't survive having her brain destroyed.
I hoped.
"I didn't try to kill you," she said, standing in one fluid motion. I took a step back--well, actually, it was more like a stumble. "If I had tried to kill you, you would be dead."
She had a point.
"Why?" Short, simple, easy to answer. I didn't actually want to hear the answer, because I knew it could be nothing good, but I had to know.
She just smiled again, damn her, and started to walk away, towards the door. I followed her, my gun trained on her head. Hopefully I'd see her reach for the weapons I was sure she had, and I could drop her before she could drop me. Yeah, right.
I stood in the open doorway, gun still pointed at her, hoping one of my neighbors wouldn't show up unexpectedly. It sucks when they do that. Vann looked so damn normal standing out there in the hallway, in her jeans and orange top. So damn normal, yet she was easily one of the most dangerous people I had ever met. And she was out to get me.
"Kayla?" She still sounded friendly. Sweet Jesus.
It took me a minute to swallow the lump in my throat before I could answer. "Vann?"
"Next time, I won't miss."
With those words, she walked out of my life. If only it was forever.
