This is your official invitation to join the fun

“Damn it, woman,” he hissed.

He tightened his grip on her. The annoyed twitch of his nose told her to remember her role. They were still in the house and she was supposed to be scared, timid, and pleading for her life.

She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. The sharp pain coupled with the pricking sensation of blood rushing back into her limbs, made her eyes water up. She cried and whimpered all the way out the door.

Out back by the car, she jumped out of his hold, shoving against his chest.

“Seriously?”

“What?” he asked.

“You put me in the worst place in the entire house. There was a mouse. And what the hell was up with the chloroform?”

His face remained utterly innocent but the crinkle around his eyes betrayed the amusement at her suffering. “It was a better plan. If I were to take you to Claire as you just ‘happen’ to wake up, it would’ve looked suspicious. This was much more realistic.”

Sonya grumbled, ripping the ropes apart, the knots undoing with a light tug. She wanted to punch him in the gut but he was right—not that she’d ever admit it, even to herself.

Since he had no car and they needed Claire to believe the timeline, they walked, sticking to back roads and abandoned streets. He offered his coat which she flatly refused. Knowing him, there’d be something nasty in the pockets. After that, all talking was kept strictly to insults though it faded out the closer they got.

It was below freezing, snow had snuck inside her shoes and the hoodie didn’t give her enough warmth for lasting this long outside. When they reached the street of the club, she didn’t even protest while he redid the knot, stuffing her mouth with a less than sterile rag.

When he held her again, he actually felt warm and she leaned against him, unable to keep her teeth from chattering.

“Should’ve taken my coat,” he muttered as they approached the front door. The Closed sign explained the deserted look. Michael kicked the bottom of the door and two of Claire’s coven; Benjamin—the one with the perfect nose who’d ripped out some of her hair before—and a second man with warm brown skin and blue eyes.

“You’re late,” the second man said.

“She’s heavy.” Michael raised Sonya up a bit as though to display her. “And I didn’t want to risk someone ruining Claire’s gift.”

Sonya flinched away when Benjamin touched her cheek. He looked at her like he wanted to serve her up with a fine wine.

“She has a good fragrance.” He winked.

I’m still killing you second.

Michael raised his arm around her, almost protectively, as he strode past them. Three other members of the coven ambled through the halls, she recognized two but none of them gave her another look. Either her plan was working or she and Michael were walking into the worst decision of their soon to be ended lives.

In the same pillared room where she’d died three weeks earlier, Claire stood waiting for them.

Sonya shook her head in mock terror, finding it harder to play the helpless victim when she saw Evelyn’s hair spikes stuck through Claire’s bun.

“For you, my lady.” Michael bowed his head, following Claire as she led him into a room further in the back. Sonya almost laughed. It came across like a child’s room. The walls and ceiling were a soft pink and frilly white curtains framed the two windows. China dolls were spread across the bed. The innocence the room tried to portray contrasted violently with the set of manacles screwed into one of the walls. Even from her angle, she noticed blood lining the chains.

Michael tapped her shoulder.

Right. Horror movie victim.

Sonya started bawling, shaking her head as she tried to look as utterly pathetic as possible. Claire leaned in and sniffed. “She smells… mixed.”

“I took the man she was with for myself.” Michael gestured to the blood staining her clothes. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Her face lit up and she clapped her hands together like a parent witnessing a child feed themselves for the first time. “You’ve come so far, Michael.” Her hand came up to his cheek, working around to the back of his neck. She pulled him down, kissing him deeply.

Sonya rolled her eyes. She’d rather have the mouse crawling down her shirt than watch this.

“Put her on the floor.”

Michael nodded, placing another kiss on Claire’s forehead before following the order. The gesture, so affectionate and loving, caused a spark of panic in Sonya. He hadn’t seemed like that good of an actor. She tried to find the deception hidden somewhere in his face but the only hate in his expression was directed straight towards her.

Michael dumped her beside the bed before turning back to his mistress. She made him get on the bed. Took off his coat. Then his shirt.

Sonya’s eyes widened. Over two dozen deep scars cut across his back like tally marks—one of which was fresh. His punishment. He’d healed overnight after she’d shot him in the stomach on that first night, but this wound, now three weeks old, hadn’t yet closed.

Sonya waited just a few seconds more until she was sure Claire was occupied before tugging at the ropes. They didn’t budge. Sonya paled, tugging harder. The snow. It had coated the rope during the walk, melting once inside and causing the fibers to swell.

Three weeks to work out the plan and she’d never thought about the snow.

Sonya looked up at the couple. Michael was staring at her as Claire ran her hands along his chest, murmuring into his ear. Sonya raised up her wrists and jerked them around to show him that it wasn’t coming undone.

Defeat, complete and total, shrouded his face. His entire body sagged down onto the bed.

Damn it all to hell, she wasn’t about to die with the two of them being the last thing she’d ever see. Curling up into a tight ball, she wedged her knees up through her arms, straining against the damp rope, the fibers digging into her skin. She felt like she was going to tear off her own wrists—if her shoulders didn’t give out first—but eventually, her legs popped through her arms, leaving her hands behind her back. Sonya stopped, checking on Claire. Michael, apparently catching on to what Sonya was doing, kept Claire occupied with kisses and whispered conversations.

Sonya fumbled with the hoodie, pulling it up and taking knife out from the back of her jeans. She nicked herself in the process but Claire didn’t break away from Michael as the two grew more amorous.

Sonya kept her movements small, not wanting to draw too much attention as she cut her way free. With one binding gone, the rest of the rope grew loose enough for her to wriggle out. She took out the gag, tying the cloth around her mouth to protect against blood spatter. Creeping up to the bed, she peeked over.

Michael caught her eye and moved Claire in position; her neck exposed and ready.

“Claire,” Michael said, getting her attention. “I have something important to tell you.”

“What is it, my love?”

Sonya pushed herself up, swinging her knife back for the killing blow.

“No one will mourn you.” Michael’s gaze shifted to Sonya at the last second.

Claire’s head whipped around as Sonya slashed. The vampire’s teeth were still jutting out when her head fell from her shoulders.

Sonya reached down and snatched out her hair pins. She pulled out the vial of dead man’s blood, coating the spikes and her knife before re-corking it and tucking it away.

“Are you ready for the others?”

Michael ignored her, staring out into space, his face an odd mix of elation and terror.

“Hello? Anyone there?” She waved her hand in front of his eyes. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to let you two finish?”

He sat down, still not acknowledging her presence. He muttered something, so quiet she almost didn’t hear. “Free,” he said, staring down at his hands, “after so long.”

She touched his shoulder and he jerked up like she’d hit him. “Michael?” She didn’t want to rush him through this but if the other guards came by with Claire’s head on the floor, their chance of surprise attacks would evaporate.

“It’s done.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s done.”

He stood on the bed, his chest expanding. He seemed to nearly double in size as he clenched his fists and his face split into a malicious grin. “Try and keep up.” He dashed out the door.

Sonya muttered curses behind him, tucking the spikes up her sleeves as she ran. Michael sprinted to the right at the end of the hall. She took the left. Benjamin crossed her path first. She kept her promise about killing him second.

A thunderous bellowing echoed from the opposite end of the building. Michael; how was he holding up? She turned to double back when two of the coven came running up to her, faces hollow and teeth bared. One growled, his jaw opened wide. Sonya ran up to meet him, taking the vial and yanking out the stopper with her teeth before tossing the open vial into his mouth. He collapsed onto the floor in violent spasms. She swung her knife at the second but he dodged the attack and slammed her up against the wall. Her head connected painfully with brick. The room spun.

The vampire holding her forced her neck to the side as though to break it. She stabbed blindly with the knife. He gasped, his hand going limp. She’d caught him in the carotid artery. He choked, but didn’t fall. Bringing her knee up into his groin made him stumble back. She stayed on him, ripping the knife out and finishing him off properly. She beheaded the one on the floor, abandoning the bodies to dash across to the other side.

She didn’t even reach the corner when someone slammed into her, knocking her back. Her knife skid across the floor out of reach and a pair of hands wrapped around her throat. His grip threatened to crush her windpipe. With his neck out of reach, she pulled out one of her hair spikes and jabbed it in the back of his wrist. He howled in pain. The vampire jerked her closer as if to bite her—she took out the second spike and shoved it through his right temple and into his brain.

Kicking off his spasming body, she gathered her knife and finished him. With a soft panting, she retrieved the rest of her weapons and dragged her feet around the corner.

Michael stood, splattered in blood, around four corpses. His hands were coated in red and his eyes—they mirrored her emotions after killing the Tracker.

“Show off.”

Michael blinked before a bit of sanity flowed back into him. “The others?”

“I got four more,” she said, keeping her distance. “Is that all of them?”

He nodded.

Sonya sighed, tugging the cloth from her face. Flopping down onto the floor, she hung her head between her knees.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“Nothing serious.” Blood ran down the back of her neck and she probably had a concussion, but she’d be fine in a couple days. Using her book to heal herself over this wasn’t worth the exhaustion that came with it.

“I can smell the blood.”

“It’s nothing serious,” she repeated. “Will anyone be coming by? Janitors or anything like that?”

“I doubt it.

“Good.” She drew closer, using as little contact as possible to peel a coat off the least bloodied body. She put it on. “I’ll go get the car and come back for the bodies.” Five of them. That had to beat whatever Keme had managed. She started walking down the hall but he stopped her. “What?”

“You’re dragging me with you again.”

She’d gotten so used to the tugging feeling on her spine that she had a hard time remembering it was even there. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. She felt their link, like a tangible thread, in her spine. The leftover adrenaline from the fight drained out the bottom of her feet and she swayed as she sacrificed her energy to pull the thread apart. It was getting harder each time.

“See you soon,” she muttered, dragging herself along. She took the pins out of the wig, tearing the itchy thing off her head. She tossed it and the glasses in a dumpster out in the street, cleaning her face as best she could with the rag she’d used as a mask. The light gray sky of predawn ushered her onward, making her break out into a jog as she cut through a park for the quickest way back. Even with the extra layer, she was still shivering by the time she reached her car.

She took out her phone, dialing Core. It picked up after a single ring.

“What?” Core yelled. “I’m in the middle of a dungeon.”

Sonya held the speaker away from her ear when the women screamed something about dots. “I finished the job. Just wanted you to know so you don’t change who you’re betting on.”

“I hope it’s as high ranking as you say it is.”

Sonya grinned, going inside Michael’s house and gathering up a couple thick blankets to line her car’s trunk. The poor thing had been scratched up and beaten; the last thing it deserved was some leech blood staining the interior. “It’ll be something the others will definitely remember.”

She hung up and drove to the club, coming across Michael rampaging through the building as he smashed mirrors and lights, tore down curtains and left behind absolute chaos in his wake.

“Wow,” she said when he finally stopped to acknowledge her appearance. “You had a lot of repressed anger, didn’t you.”

Labored breathing made his shoulders heave as he grinned. “I’ve waited nearly a century to rid the world of her filth. Repressed doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel.”

Sonya smirked as he went back to work. She left him, starting with Claire. Pulling the blanket off her bed, she wrapped the body up to drag it through the hallways, picking up Benjamin’s body as well as the other coven members she’d killed along the way.

“So gross, so gross, so gross!” She picked the heads up by their hair, wiping her hand on her pants each time

“You picked an odd time to get squeamish about this.”

Sonya stuck her tongue out and yanked on the blanket—it was getting heavier by the moment. “I can’t help it. I’m literally able to see inside this guy’s throat. It’s disgusting.” It would take days to scrub herself clean.  

Michael helped her with the bodies—though he took a little bit too much pleasure in forcing Claire to fit in with the rest.

“What about the others?” he asked, gesturing towards the hall where he’d taken down four of the coven.

“Those are yours. I’m not taking credit for them.” Isaac and his posse would have a hard enough time believing she’d brought down five. Nine would be out of the question. Besides, the idea of cheating left a bad taste in her mouth—it would only prove Isaac right about her.

Michael stalked over to the back of her car, placing his hands on the trunk before slamming it shut. His satisfied smile melted off his face when his eyes fixed on her. He stepped forward, pulling a knife out from the back of his pants. She moved away warily. Watching him vent his anger had been entertaining but she wouldn’t survive it if he turned that rage on her.

“I found this among Claire’s things. It’s yours, right?” He flipped the weapon so the handle faced her.

Sonya blinked, surprised that he’d even remembered what her knife had looked like. “Thank you.” She took it from him, staring down at the ‘graduation trophy’ from Evelyn.

“What will you do with me now?” Michael asked. “You’ve chained me to you, after all.”

“I have to get back.” She only had a couple of days before the competition between her and Keme was over. Before she was permanently kicked out.

“And I’m supposed to come with you? To live with people who’d like nothing more than to see my head on a spike?”

“I won’t tell them what you are. I mean, as long as you don’t attack anyone, I don’t think any of them will know. They might not even care.” She stepped away at his glare. “I promise that as soon as I figure how to untangle this situation, I’ll do it. I’ve been studying and working towards a solution. I’m just a bit nervous about experimenting.”

“It’s a pity to hear you’ve been having a hard time. Having to constantly check in with you has been so delightful for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sonya barked, her patience done. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry! How many times do you need to hear that before you get it through your thick skull? Now, you should go back to your place and pack up anything you’d like to have with you. You’ll also bring along enough blood to last you through the next couple weeks. I am going to present you to the others as a new recruit who was kept as food storage by the coven I came across. You can bring the ones you took out to earn a ranking on the board if you like. But one way or another, you’re coming with me.”

“If you think you can just order me about—”

“I can and I will. I didn’t want this either, Michael. But since you’d rather bitch at me about it rather than finding a solution, I’m taking over the situation.” Her voice held strong despite the terror pounding at her heart. Even with Isaac, she’d never felt so much hostility towards her. He wanted to kill her, to stuff her in the back with the rest.  

“Very well,” he said through gritted teeth. “I will be ready tonight. But,” he held up a finger, “there is one place I must go before going with you to your little Hunting party.”

“It’s a deal.” She frowned when he started stomping further into the building. “I can give you a ride home.”

“I want nothing from you,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Be ready to leave by nightfall.”

Flames peeked out through the upper windows as smoke curled up among the falling snow. Michael stood waiting for her at the door, resting in the shadows even as the fire flirted at taking him down with the rest of the house. She suspected the club had met a similar fate.

“Are you waiting for me to fetch your bags?” she asked.

He picked up the wooden trunk that held his journal and letters with a large leather bag stacked on top. They joined her own duffle on the backseat. “Is that it?”

“All that I want to take with me.” He opened the passenger door, settling down with a grimace.

Why could he never answer with a simple “yes” or “no”?

She slipped into the seat next to him, pulling out onto the road. She tapped absently at the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead, stiff and unmoving as a block of wood. She couldn’t even hear him breathe. Only his blinking betrayed that he was still alive.

“Are you going to tell me where I’m supposed to take you?” They were almost out of the city.

“We’ll be there soon.”

“And I’m just supposed to magically know when to stop? Which roads to turn down?”

He said nothing.

“Okay then.” Sonya puffed out her cheeks. It’d be better if she was alone. Then she could play her music as loud as she wanted without him mocking her. “Will you at least tell me who or what we’re going to see?”

“Someone who might be able to answer my questions.”

“Do you enjoy being cryptic?” Annoyance leaked into her voice. “Or are you just physically incapable of being straightforward?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile before his scowl returned, deeper than ever.

“You do realize that I’m just going to keep bothering you until you tell me, right?”

Michael arched an eyebrow, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “I suppose she would call herself a Seer.”

Sonya bit down on her lip to keep the criticism at bay. A psychic. She was taking him to see a psychic. “And she’ll just happen to know whatever it is you’re looking for?”

“Perhaps.” He pointed off to the right down a small side road. The car crunched along on the thick snow. The road wound into a grove of dense trees, blocking off any houses around the corner. Four minutes down and the road ended at a brown bricked house. Smoke rose lazily from the chimneys and a few cars parked around the front door which had beautiful stain glass windows on either side. The light radiating out of the house made the snow and trees around it glow. Sonya stopped the car, not wanting to disturb the perfect image.

“Is she good at what she does?” The house held a tangible aura that made her doubt her own skepticism. If the woman who Michael came to see really knew things—secret things—maybe she could tell Sonya what happened to her as a child or what the doppelganger in her dreams meant. She’d found no answers working with the other Hunters but maybe here, there could finally be some resolution.

“There’s no one better.” Michael’s face completely transformed as he stepped out. The creases in his face softened with the first warm smile she’d seen him wear.

***

Michael brushed the glass beads aside as he entered through the front door. The room smelled like fur and incense and the blacks, blues and silvers which covered the walls and ceiling gave the impression that he was walking among the stars. “Rebecca.” He inclined his head to the younger of the Dragomir sisters. Rich black hair rumbled down around her tanned shoulders, curling elegantly at the end. The gray eyes in her soft face were militantly guarded as she inspected him.

He smirked at the contempt in her voice. “Gone. Permanently.”

“Really?” Her gaze shifted to Sonya when she came in behind him. The disbelief in Rebecca’s face mirrored his own emotions. That this impudent, whiny child had accomplished what Jonathon and Pablo could not, was staggering. “I need to discuss a delicate matter with Isabelle if she has the time.”

“She’s in the back.”

Michael thanked her and turned on his heels to look at the witch. “Rebecca will ensure my privacy. Don’t bother with a foolish attempt at spying. You’ve no skill at it.” He smiled at Sonya’s glare before leaving for the room at the back.

Isabelle hummed, her voice mixing exotically with the tune. Silver streaked through her dark hair. The strands caught the light as she flowed through the room, organizing drawers full of bottles as she went. He’d met her for the first time when she was seven. Small for her age, she’d seemed little more than a doll with curious brown eyes. Even back then, she’d shown no fear of him or Claire, already used to the darker creatures attracted to her family’s work.

“I didn’t think I’d live to see you without your leash.” She approached him with a welcoming smile. He took her hand and kissed the back.

“Nor did I,” he said, as she gestured for him to sit at a small table draped in blue satin. “But I haven’t unleashed myself entirely.”

“Yes. The girl who came with you.” She tilted her head to the side as though listening in on a whispered conversation. “She’s the one who killed Claire. And yet, you carry only anger for her. Why?”

“She did something to me—bound me to her.” Isabelle sat down across from him and it was all he could do not to shout. “All she’s done is replaced Claire.”

“Is she really that bad?”

“She will be,” he said. “She’s an ignorant, manipulative child with wild and reckless tendencies. It won’t take long before she falls prey to her own power. I would prefer not to be around when that happens.”

Isabelle nodded slowly, her earrings tinkling against her round shoulders. “What have you come to me for?”

“Once I know what she is, it’ll be easier to break whatever binds us together.”

“And you think I can discover that? I’m flattered.”

“We both know you’re the best.”

“Yes,” Isabelle’s smile widened, “we do.”

Michael reached into the pocket inside his coat, pulling out his folded handkerchief. Isabelle took it from him, delicately pealing back the layers of cloth.

“A lock of her hair?” Her mouth tightened in annoyance. “I think you’re taking my Romani heritage a bit too literally.”

Michael flushed, reaching to retrieve the fabric. She held it close, telling him to wait. “It might be useful depending on what I find.” She rose to her feet, browsing a shelf to her right. Impeccably polished balls of crystal, piles of chalk, small pouches of leather and other tools of her trade piled precariously in front of her. She stood for a moment before choosing a deck of tarot cards with intricate patterns of gold leaf on the back.

“Tell me about the girl,” she said as she returned to her seat, idly shuffling the cards with long, ringed fingers.

Michael frowned, describing what Sonya looked like, what she had done to Claire, her over curious and rude nature.

“Have you considered that she might be telling the truth about your connection being a mistake?”

“Even so, I don’t want to be stuck to her. If this is the consequence of a mere accident, I shudder to think what she’ll do when it’s on purpose.”

Isabelle chuckled and set the deck down at last. “Let’s see what we can discover about her.” She drew the first card. A white figure with a minimal face grimaced down at the black horned demon inside his own chest.

“The Devil. She’s going through an internal struggle.” Her hand hovered over the image. “There is a piece of her locked away—pacing, waiting for its turn to take control. That piece is the one that gives her her power.” Isabelle’s face drew together in concentration. “The division between them is crumbling. A fight for dominance will ensue.”

She took a few deep breaths as though she’d been running and reached for the second card. Multiple caskets lay open with arms reaching out towards the heavens where an angel draped in white blew a gold trumpet. “Judgment. She’s had a recent awakening to what her true place in life should be.” This time she hesitated before delving into the closer reading. “She’s new to the Hunter’s life, though… not new to monsters.” A shudder rippled through her. “There’s something ancient about her soul—dark, consuming. But the caged part of her is fresh, new-born.” She dropped, rather than set, the card down. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow.

“You don’t have to keep going if it’s too much,” Michael said, placing his hand on hers. “There are others I could visit.” She always put too much of herself in her work.

“No. Only one card left. I might as well finish.”

Michael squeezed her hand before letting go, not wanting to interfere with the reading.

“What does your future hold, little girl?” Isabelle took the last card and her face dropped. Two scythes emanated black smoke from behind a cloaked figure. “Death.” She gripped the card tightly. “It’s generally meant to show a change. It could mean simply be referring to the end of the struggle.”

“But what is she?”

Isabelle placed her hand directly on top of the imposing form. Her eyes fogged over. Michael didn’t dare breathe. He sat on the edge of his chair, hands gripping the side of the table.

“Isabelle?”

Her entire body sagged and she set the card down. “Nothing. I saw nothing. No light. No sound. I couldn’t even feel my own body.” She tapped her fingers on the satin cover, her expression somewhat crazed. She went still. He frowned, barely able to make out the beating of her heart to reassure him that she hadn’t died. Her eyes clouded again before white consumed them. Her hand moved mechanically as she took the next card and flipped it over.

Death.

Death.

She seemed to snap into herself, her eyes returning to their usual rich color. She took the entire deck and flung the cards across the table. Each and every one of them showed the same dark smoke surrounding the shadowed figure.

“Take her away.”

“What happened?”

“Get her away from me!”

“What did you see?” Michael took Isabelle by the shoulders, holding her as her body trembled. “Please,” he begged. “Give me something to work with. Don’t leave me with nothing.”

Isabelle nodded in a jilted motion before ripping out of his hold. She took Sonya’s hair, one of the pouches from the shelf and went straight to the drawers she’d been straightening when he’d first arrived. She ripped out whole sections, tossing them onto the floor and muttering under her breath in a language he didn’t understand. He couldn’t see what she put in the bag she held out to him but it smelled like ash and decay.

“Be careful with it,” Isabelle warned, backing to the other end of the room. “I… I couldn’t see what she is. I don’t want to see. That might kill her or just make her angry. If you want to take the risk, burn it. But be far away from here first!”

Michael started towards her, wanting to sooth her but she screamed at him to leave.

“Very well. Thank you, Isabelle.”

“Go.”

Michael left without another word, pausing to tell Rebecca that her sister needed her. “Sonya,” he gripped her by the arm and yanked her up. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Ow.” She tried to tear herself free. “What the hell is wrong with you, Michael?”

“We’re leaving,” he repeated.

“I get that but what happened? Rebecca kept eyeing me like I was the one who might take a bite out of her neck.”

Michael tucked the pouch into his coat. “She didn’t like what I had to say about Claire.” He straightened his clothes, doing anything to keep from looking at her. He should’ve just let her die. The risk to him seemed so marginal. But now he had a chance, a possible trump, to undo her work. And it wouldn’t go to waste.

But Isabelle’s warning nagged him. What if tampering with her only made her powers stronger? Made his situation worse?

“She said that if we stay like this for much longer, it’ll become dangerous,” Michael lied. “Other members of Claire’s coven are watching, and with her gone, the other Lords will step in to fill the void.”

Her eyes narrowed and he wondered if she saw through his deception. She glanced to the house and then back to him. “Did you ask how to break the connection?”

“Yes.”

He let her go and said, “No idea.”

She swore and kicked the snow.

Michael’s hand paused over the pouch. “We should go,” he said. “Your precious time is almost up.”

Sonya reared back, looking ready to strangle him. “I know that.” Her breath steamed as she fumbled for her keys.

He sat in the car beside her, already plotting out the best ways to use his newly acquired leverage.