Page 4

If she has noticed my ogling, she doesn't react to it. "I'm Loreley Griffon, Lady of the Black Roses. Welcome to Babylon." Loreley doesn't offer a hand and keeps us at a little more than an arm's length. She knows our deal, no matter how much polite smiling she does. "We were notified about your arrival," she says to Asha, then her eyes do that little flick towards me that say 'I don't know if you're important', "but two Hunters are quite unusual." Then she falls quiet and stares expectantly.

Asha glares back. Usually, people love to fill a void like this with blabbering, and most of the time, there will be information in the nervous chatter that your opponent didn't intend to blurt out. It's an old trick that works more often than it doesn't, but not this time. Asha has been around the block enough times to know the games vampires love to play, and she's playing them well. All of them, by the way Loreley ceases all movement. The silence stretches way past the limit of awkwardness, but now that they're committed, I can't bring myself to break the standoff. Having the combined attention of two angry women would ignite me on the spot.

A loud sigh from the back of the room jerks me out of my panic freeze. It's the biker guy. "Sweet baby Jesus, Loreley, just give up already and ask your damn question like a normal person," he drawls, eyes rolling with annoyance. Now that I'm taking a closer look, I realize he isn't that old. Well below forty, maybe even thirty, neither thin nor fat, just the happy meaty middle. The way his dirty blond hair is flattened into a stripe, I get the notion he'd prefer a mohawk and just couldn't bring himself to put in the effort tonight. He's a nice medium-pretty, rugged but trim, and I wonder why I didn't notice him sooner. He makes a big show of rearranging himself, then looks at Asha, eyes wandering from her heels upward. Slowly.

And here I was worried I might come across as leering.

"You must be the werewolf leader," says Asha dryly. She steps to the side and walks around Loreley as if she weren't the most powerful vampire in the city.

The biker beams at her, all straight teeth and flickering eyes. "Todd," he introduces himself and wiggles deeper into his love seat, man-spreading so Asha gets an in-depth look at the goods. He can't help it, so he doesn't even try. Werewolves are animals.

Satisfied, she turns to stare at the other three people in the room, but I lose sight of her when Loreley steps between us. She smiles, but her eyes flick all over me, scrutinizing every detail of little ol' me. We're eye to eye, thanks to her heels, but as with most women in power, she makes me feel small and gangly and ten years younger.

"I'm Gideon," I blurt. I instantly feel like I've ruined the game, and the air changes. Loreley smiles wider, Todd sighs, and Asha grunts and sits down on the couch next to the kissing couple, as if she's just decided that they pose the least danger in this room. "Might as well get the introductions over with," she mutters and stares at the couple. They don't bother looking over, way too focused on their own little world. Also, I'm not sure they realize she's even there, which makes them either very oblivious or incredibly powerful. Who else would ignore possible danger like that? The burly mountain of a man does look pretty intimidating just by sheer size, but the smaller guy in ripped clothing that is sitting on his lap... I can feel his power even from over here, now that I let myself. It's like a waft of cold air, and it makes me taste colors, until I shake myself and force him out of my head. Yeah, he's the dangerous one.

Loreley the vampire winks at me and beckons me with her, so I follow. We join the others in the seating arrangement and sit. Oh so civilized, just as Asha presaged.

"Don't mind them," says the werewolf, nods towards the kissing duo, and scratches his cheek languidly. "The scraggly one is the newly appointed local witchmaster, Alaric Creutz. And that there—," Todd points at the giant mountain of muscles trying to eat the smaller man by way of his lips, "—is his familiar, Rook. I thought it'd be a good idea to make him come tonight, what with him being the master of the local veils and all that. I should've known they'd go all-out on the PDA, though. Sorry, but you know how newlyweds are. If you need to know anything about the veils, I'll try to peel them off of each other."

Veils. My stomach does a giddy little flutter. I've never seen veils in real life, at least not the really big ones, and I've had wet dreams about finally getting a chance. Magic that can hide entire city blocks from human eyes, how cool is that? Babylon City is rumored to have over seven of them, all maintained by the local witch covens. And kissy-face over there is the master of them all? God, I wish I could go full nerd on him, but that won't happen. Nobody talks shop with a Hunter.

Asha smirks and leans forward to examine the kimono man, the fourth member of the local leaders. As soon as their eyes meet, he gets up and does a very traditional-looking half-bow. "I am Arzel, my lady Huntress. Envoy to my master's synod." He waits a moment, then rearranges himself and sinks back down on the ottoman, all cadavery, and creepy. His being well-mannered somehow makes his vibe even worse.

Asha tenses up and turns her eyes back to Loreley and Todd. "You didn't inform the Hunters there's a demon cult in your city?" she asks, her voice scalpel-sharp.

"They have been here for many months and never misbehaved," Loreley sneers. Meaning they haven't been caught sacrificing people or summoning demons. Yet. Cultists are the one group of, well, monsters, that will get hunted even without endangering the Contract. There is just one outcome if they are left unchecked: demons and apocalypses, and neither is subtle enough to be ignored.

"We are but a small group, my lady Huntress. We mean no harm to the Contract," Arzel pipes in, unctuous as fuck.

A hard line appears around Asha's lips. She opens her mouth as if to say something unfortunate, and I reach out to touch her arm. This is not the time and the place to start shooting people. We wouldn’t get out alive, that much even a greenhorn like me knows. She twitches, looks at me, and blinks. The murderous expression slides off her face, and she sighs, then shakes off my hand. "Fine, we'll talk about the cult thing another time," she says. "Now, who's ready to take the blame so I can go home?"

I casually scoot over a little and give Loreley more space. Or myself, I'm not sure. Not that Loreley cares. Her eyes are on Asha, her smile dimming into a more brittle, cold version of itself. "I assume you're talking about the unfortunate deaths that happened in the last few weeks?"

Asha doesn't bat an eye. "Murders. But since you seem unsure why exactly Hunters are visiting your home, is there anything else you want us to have a look at? Since we're here already."

Bland words, but the threat is unmistakable. Loreley seems to think so, too, and quickly waves the question off. "Murders then. What makes you think it wasn't a mortal who did the deed? Just because the deaths are gruesome, doesn't mean it has to be a breach of Contract."

Asha gives me a nod, and I spring into action like a good little student. As I explain the general reasoning, the tablet makes its rounds through the group, except for Arzel, who politely declines and tells us he's already come to the same conclusion. He must not know the game, because even the kissy-facers disconnect long enough to shoot him a glare.

"So, in conclusion, it's a vampire," Todd says and smiles, leaning back with a sigh. He must have known that already, but as Asha predicted, the relief over us focusing on someone else is palpable. Except for Loreley, who has gotten very still and uptight.

"I agree," says the vampire overlord evenly and holds out the tablet to us. "But since none of my kiss did it, this means you will have to hunt after a rogue." At Asha's sharp glare, she quickly—if calmly—adds, "I will of course gather all information available to me and mine and send an envoy to you posthaste."

Asha tugs the tablet out of Loreley's hand and smiles toothily. "Wonderful. And when all is said and done, we can discuss the fine you lot will have to pay for letting it get this far."

Ah, the tact of a true lady. Most of the monsters in the room control their faces, but a small, sharp crease appears on Loreley’s formerly smooth forehead. She must not be used to such brashness. I stand up when Asha does and offer the suddenly not very welcoming group a polite nod.

I have learned all there is about fines. Every Hunter has. I've been living off the fruits of fines for what sometimes feels like forever. Whenever Hunters have to clean up a mess and save the supernatural community from being exposed to humanity, they demand a fine from all parties involved, because attacking the purse hurts way worse than a slap on the fingers.

If a group of supernaturals calls us in before the breach of Contract becomes public knowledge, it's just them we make bleed green, but if nobody fesses up, well, everyone gets to pitch in. It can be anything, really, from a dollar to a full, working factory, depending on how nasty the Hunter feels. And how well they can defend themselves, should the accused parties decide to kill the Hunter instead and face the wrath of their clan rather than lose whatever the Hunter asked for. It doesn’t happen often, but if you demand something outrageous, don’t expect the monsters to just swallow it.

Nobody but Hunters could pull off going somewhere to execute someone and then demand compensation from the relatives. It's basically blackmail, but if you're past morals, pity, humanity, or mortality, there aren't many things that still hurt. Money does. As does the loss of property. The simple concept is, if the supes don't want to feed, clothe, and house Hunters, they'd better clean up their own messes. Works surprisingly well, most of the time. Not this time, though.

When we reach the elevator door, Arzel's creepily mild voice rings out. "My lady Huntress, if you could spare a moment for me?" He has stepped through the penthouse doors but keeps his distance, either out of politeness or because he noticed the gun Asha has on her hip. His dark purple kimono thing hangs off his starved, skeletal body like a rag and paints his pale skin even paler in the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Were he wearing a Hawaii shirt, I'd call an ambulance, but somehow, he pulls off looking both malnourished and powerful. It just adds to his grotesqueness. I don’t even need to open myself to his magic—which would be extremely stupid—to be creeped out by him.

Shuddering, I turn to Asha and raise a brow at her clenched jaw. Her fists work at her sides, open and close, open and close, but other than that, she looks settled, calm. Like a chess player right before the big move.

"Go on, I'll meet you at the car," she murmurs and claps my shoulder, turning me towards the elevator with the gesture. "You sure?" I ask, but she's already turned away and approaches Arzel. Alrighty then.