I hated bars.
Cigarette smoke, alcohol and a crowd of rowdy men wasn't an ideal way to spend my Saturday nights. But I had to suck it up this time because Kenji asked me to cover up for him. And since Kenji was one of my friends- well, my only friend, actually,- I had to accept. That's what friends are for. I guess.
I also needed the money. And when you're a headhunter, you better take whatever crumb comes your way if you want to pay the bills.
I took another sip of my coke, which had long since gone warm, and leaned back in my seat to get a better look at my target. The wiry blonde male in his early twenties was sitting alone at the bar. He glanced around him nervously, holding the bag across his chest like a mother holding her newborn baby.
The item in that bag was worth more than his life. Quite literally. In the mission's details Kenji had sent me, it was specified that the stolen item took priority over the thief's life.
I had tracked him to this small town, thinking that maybe he was just here to take a break from traveling across the country, but apparently, he was waiting for someone. And if that someone was here to purchase the item, it was bad. Really bad. I didn't want to take him into custody right in the middle of the bar. Drunk men had a penchant for getting involved in other people's business. Especially if one of the parties involved looked like easy prey. Considering I was a young woman on the small side, I definitely fit into that category. It wouldn't matter that I was dressed in black cargo pants and a dark jacket that concealed more weapons than what was normal for a bar patron.
I abandoned my drink and walked over to the bar, pulling my hood further down my face. I was halfway there when a drunk woman stumbled from a chair and landed in my way. The man she was sitting with hurried to help her up. Not breaking my stride, I sidestepped the woman and her partner, and continued my path toward the target.
Vampire.
I paused, turning to where my senses caught a vampiric presence. Right there. Standing at the door of the bar, a man who looked to be in his early thirties, with a tumble of black curls that grazed his shoulders and a neat black beard.
Normally, I wouldn't have blinked twice at seeing a vampire. But I haven't met any immortals since coming to this small town in the middle of nowhere. It was expected, since vampires liked living in heavily populated cities where they could find plenty of willing blood to feed from.
This led me to believe that the presence of this vampire was not a coincidence. So when the vampire zeroed in on my target and stalked towards him, I wasn't particularly surprised.
Of course.
I had thought this mission was too easy. So naturally, the universe obliged my sense of adventure by throwing a vampire in the mix. And not just a young, harmless vampire. Oh, no. Judging by the way he held his body and his combat leather attire, he was most likely a fighter.
He was also pretty old. And with immortals, age generally equaled power.
Blending with the mass of people, I watched as the vampire approached my target. The blood sucker whispered something in the man's ear, closing his hand over his nape.
The two males were soon heading casually out of the bar, my target's body as tense as a board. I waited for a beat, then followed after them.
The fresh air outside was heavenly after being enclosed in that bar for two long hours. I blinked to get used to the darkness. The night was still young, but the streets were deserted as expected in such a small town, and only a handful of lampposts were working.
The duo had just turned into an alley. Sigh. This was bothersome. Dealing with vampires was always irritating. I trailed them into the alley where a monster of a black motorbike was waiting for them. The vampire's ride, I guessed. Long black hair, black leather jacket, black leather pants and a black motorbike. Someone was getting depressed in their old age.
"That's my target you're holding there, sir," I said.
The vampire froze, his back to me. My target thought it was a nice opportunity to attempt an escape. He had just jerked in the vampire's grasp before he was immobilized again.
The blood sucker turned. His dark eyes looked me up and down slowly. A befuddled expression crossed his face. He hadn't sensed me trailing him, and considering I was a very weak and small human to his senses, it must be surprising.
Either he would see me as a threat, or dismiss me as a meaningless human in his way.
"This isn't your business," he said in a deep, flat voice, "get out of here."
So he chose the latter. Hmm. This one wasn't so bright.
After ridding the target of his precious bag, the naive vampire produced a pair of handcuffs and bound the man's wrists behind his back.
I decided to try for polite and reasonable one last time. I took out my badge from my pocket and approached. As expected, the vampire barely glanced my way.
"Elle Sanders, a headhunter," I said, getting his attention. Finally, "the man you're trying to take is my target. I'm commissioned to retrieve him and the stolen item to the nearest order's chapter."
The Order of Rogue Hunters of America, commonly known as ORHA, is an international organization that has one goal: hunting down rogues. Immortal rogues. The Order is the magic world's version of human law enforcement. They take care of all immortal outlaws, and in rare cases, some humans who commit crimes against immortals.
The vampire pushed the target- who looked very close to throwing up- down on the bike, then crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at my badge. Even ten feet away in the darkness, he could probably see the details. Perks of being a vamp.
"Well, headhunter," he spat the word with as much affection as one would spare a dead cockroach stuck on the bottom of their favourite shoe, "you're no longer on the mission. I'm a special agent of the Order. We've taken back the mission".
Ah. An ORHA agent. That explained his fondness for headhunters. The majority of the order's agents weren't very partial to headhunters. Mostly because the ORHA consisted exclusively of immortals; mostly vampires, witches and shapeshifters, while headhunters were human. Headhunters were usually assigned missions which were judged too insignificant to justify allocating immortal resources. Like weak immortal rogues or human criminals who were stupid enough to get themselves on the immortals' bad side, case in point: man on bike.
"I wasn't notified," I casually took a step forward.
"I'm notifying you now," he pushed a helmet on the thief's head, none too gently.
"I'd like to see your badge," I said. If he really was an agent of the Order then there wasn't much I could do. It sucked, but headhunters were on the bottom of the food chain. I had to see his identification first, though, and make sure he was who he claimed to be. I didn't want to lose the commission because of some wannabe idiot.
The vampire scoffed, getting ready to mount his bike, "get out of my way."
Arrogant asshole. I walked straight to the front of his bike. If he wanted to move forward, he would have to run me over. He'd probably do it without second thought, but dealing with the fallout would be bothersome. I was counting on that.
His eyes flashed red, the way vampires' eyes did when they were pissed off. A blur of movement, and he was standing very close to me, his face an inch from mine and a cold knife on my neck. He was too slow, though.
"Move, little girl."
"I don't think so." I put more pressure on the knife I had on his chest, right where his heart would be. The vampire's eyes widened, he looked down, his nostrils flaring.
Surprise, surprise.
"It's Silver," I offered with a saccharine smile, "and it's very sharp."
Silver was one of the few known things that could seriously harm immortals. As old as this vampire was, he might survive a normal knife in the heart. A silver knife, however...
Underestimating someone was the number one thing that uncle Robert had always warned me of. No matter how small, weak or frail someone looks, it does not mean they are helpless. I had my knife out of its sheath and on the vampire's heart before he got his on my neck.
The vamp looked back at me through new eyes. I knew what he was seeing. A small, green eyed girl with close cropped blonde hair under the hoodie and a smug smile. His nostrils flared again. He was irritated. I should probably tone down the smile a notch.
"Your badge?"
The vampire snarled, showing razor sharp fangs.
"Very sharp," I said, "I still need to see your badge." I pressed the knife just in case he was missing my point. He narrowed his eyes, probably thinking about whether he wanted to go through the hassle of killing me. I saw it in his eyes. He thought he could slit my throat before I could push the knife into his heart. He was wrong. I was extremely good at driving a stick into a vampire's heart. I had a lot of practice.
But I wouldn't tell him that. Let him underestimate me.
Finally, he made his decision. Keeping the cold metal pressed against my pulse, the vampire retrieved a badge from his pocket. I glanced at it, enough to see the intricate Order's stamp, his I.D. picture and name.
"Well, Kit," I said, "a pleasure to make your acquaintance." I moved the knife away from his chest first.
He moved back, too, keeping his scowl trained on me. A bit too late to realize he'd misjudged a situation, but hopefully, he'd learn from this experience.
"I'd appreciate it if the Order bothered to notify us next time they get custody over a case back." The Order was usually very meticulous about things like that.
The vampire, Kit, strapped down the thief to his gigantic bike. The poor man was white as a sheet. I wondered what Kit told him back at the bar to make him so quietly compliant.
"It's a special case-"
Kit and I turned as one to the entrance of the alley. The light from the street shone on the man standing there. A human. But my senses told me there was something very wrong about him.
The man, somewhere around mid to late forties, dressed in a non-conspicuous shirt and dress pants, flashed us a big smile. His white streaked dark hair shone under the dim lamplight, and his eyes looked obsidian from the distance. The back of my neck pricked in primal warning.
I had a knife in each hand.
"The book," the man said in a voice that was just... wrong for a human. Too flat, too constricted. As if he had trouble pushing sound out of his throat. The white in his eyes disappeared, and black took over, as if the pupil expanded to take over the entire white of the eye.
Demon.
"Possessed?" The vampire guessed correctly from beside me, his posture a fighting ready crouch, mirroring mine. "I thought this was a small, quiet town."
He was right. Demon possessed humans weren't rare, but they usually existed in places where magic was thick. This town's residents were purely human, the magic I sensed in it was close to nil. Which meant the possessed guy wasn't from around here.
The man stepped into the alley. I could no longer make out his features, but I could see his body well enough to fight him.
The demon charged forward, obviously aiming for the human on the bike. I heard him struggle behind me, trying to escape the straps that bound him.
I met the demon halfway while Kit stayed put in front of his bike. The demon wasn't concerned about me, the pesky human female. He swung his arm, aiming for my head. Too slow.
I ducked down. His arm went wide and I thrust upwards, my knife slicing through the flesh of his side, cutting from his hip up to his armpit.
An enraged scream. I jumped back just in time to avoid his kick. He came at me, forgetting all about his earlier target. His anger was almost palpable, a malicious wave against my skin. But I had the upper hand. I was well trained. I could take on vampires, and they were the fastest of the immortal races.
I pushed him back, toward the entrance of the alley. If I could just get a little more light, I would take him down. As it was, he wasn't getting any slower despite the loss of blood and the pain from the cuts I made. When a demon possesses a human, they feel the body's pain only to a certain extent.
Kit decided to join the party, after all. He moved in, and then we were two against one. The odds were in our favor. I would've much preferred that Kit stayed out of the way, though. I fought better alone.
Kit, like me, fought with a dagger. His was a twelve inch blade that he used like another limb. I might not like the guy, but he was good with that knife.
We pushed the demon back, he continued to evade our attempts to score a killer blow. Suddenly, as the demon jumped back out of my knife's aim, he thrust his hand into a deep wound in his side and swung his hand in a sharp arc, splattering his blood over Kit and I. He raised his hand, palm out, and said in a hiss of a voice that echoed through the alley, "haeess."
A rush of magic pricked my senses. The warm blood on my face warmed to an almost painful level. Goosebumps broke all over my body. Kit and I froze. The demon's magic made us stop moving.
It was strong. This was not a low level demon. In all my years of being a headhunter, I had never met a demon this strong. We were lucky he was limited by the human body he'd possessed. If the demon himself was here, it would've gone south very quickly.
The demon straightened and headed toward us, no rush in his steps. Well, someone was pretty confident.
I took a deep breath and dug deep down, from the core of who I truly was. I did what Uncle Robert had told me to do only if I was in mortal danger. I guessed that this situation qualified, but still, uncle Robert would turn in his grave if he knew I dipped into my magic in the presence of an immortal.
I only needed a trickle. Just a drop to break the demon's hold. All this took but a fraction of a second. Then I moved.
The demon was not expecting me to shrug off his magic that quickly. He was too close and he left himself wide open. My dagger sliced through his neck like a hot knife through butter. Hot blood sprayed on my face, but I was already behind the demon, thrusting my silver dagger through his heart and twisting.
The demon jerked one last time before he went limp. I kicked him off my knife. He toppled to the ground, a lifeless body.
Kit finally jerked free of the demon's magic. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Wide eyed, he stared at me, then at the dead man. It was such a waste of life, but demons could only possess willing human hosts. The man had probably made some deal with the demon in exchange for his body.
"How did you do that?" Kit asked, his expression turning speculative.
"What?" I wiped my face, but only succeeded in smearing the blood on my skin.
"You know what," he straightened, "you shrugged off his magic like it was nothing. And you're just ... human."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I blinked at him, "what magic? Is that why you froze in the end? I thought fear finally got you."
If I pissed him off enough, he would forget about my little superhuman display. His upper lip twitched in a snarl. I crouched down to wipe my knives on the dead man's shirt.
"Well, since the Order is in control of the situation, I'll take my leave now," standing up, I smiled at him, "it was a pleasure to meet you, Kit."
I turned around, feeling his stare on my back as I left. Easy. If I run now, he'd just think I'm hiding something. Slow and easy.
"Wait."
Dammit.
"Yes?" I looked over my shoulder. Kit walked up to me, and pointed a thumb over his shoulder to where the target was slumped over his bike. The poor guy had lost consciousness.
"You can take the man," Kit said, catching my attention, "I need to take the stolen item back personally. But you can take the man. I believe the reward for his capture was substantial."
It was substantial alright. I would finally have enough money to get those pure silver crossbow bolts.
"What's the catch?" I faced Kit, narrowing my eyes.
"As a payback for taking care of the demon," Kit shrugged, "it would've been bothersome without your assistance."
Bothersome, my foot. The demon would've skewered him if I hadn't been there. I really needed the money, my eyes must be flashing dollar signs right now. I gave a short nod. I was suspicious of Kit's sudden compassionate attitude. Though to be fair, I didn't know him enough to judge. So why look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Alright." I said, "I appreciate it."
"You're welcome." Kit replied. The hint of a smile on his face rubbed me the wrong way.
I should've listened to my guts, then.
The Order has several offices scattered across the continent. Those offices were specifically tasked with handing out missions and payments to headhunters. So when the reception lady refused to give me my paycheck, I was surprised. I wanted so badly to jump back in time and kick Kit's ass back to wherever hole he'd crawled out of.
"What do you mean, you're not authorized to hand it out?"
The receptionist, a white haired lady sitting comfortably in her black rolling chair behind a sprawling desk, put out a sigh and looked up at me with a tight smile. I smiled back just as tightly. Yeah, I don't like your face either.
"Your paycheck is being held by the main chapter. That's where you'll be able to get it."
I gritted my teeth. After Kit left, I had to wait for the target to wake up from his horror induced nap for half an hour, then I had to drag his ass all the way to Los Angeles where the closest office was. A two hour long road trip by bus from that blasted town. I managed to clean my face from the blood, and my clothes were dark enough that the red wasn't glaringly obvious, so I didn't frighten the people on the way. Not much, anyways.
However, travelling with a man who thought I was a helpless little girl was very irritating. He kept trying to escape. I wasn't a violent woman, but after his third attempt in the bus station, I knocked him down and literally dragged his moaning ass to the bus.
The office was located in downtown Los Angeles. It occupied a whopping forty five floors high rise, a gray skyscraper that blended well with the surrounding buildings . Immortals walked in and out of the building, lingered in the green area around it.
Headhunters only got as far as the lobby, and today was no exception. The open space area with shiny black marble flooring and lustrous off-white walls had instantly made me feel like a beggar in my dirty, black darb.
After the receptionist had called for a vampire to take my target into who knew where, I was left hanging for two more hours while she spoke furiously and very quietly on the phone.
And now I had nothing.
I tried for sympathy. I smiled genuinely at her. Or as genuinely as I could with the urge to thump her face down on her desk, maybe that would lower her nose down a notch.
"Look, I take on missions from the Order all the time, and I never had to travel all the way to the main chapter just to get my payment. It's a really long trip all the way to Maine. Can't you do anything about it?"
The old lady sniffed, her tight white hair glinting off the sunlight streaming through the windows. "I apologize, this is out of my hands. But if it is any consolation, the Order reimburses any travel expenses done while on mission. I'm sure your trip all the way to Portland would count as one."
That was all I was going to get, I realized. With a thank you and a last scalding glance to the building's ostentatious interior, I walked out into the fresh morning air. I knew it wouldn't stay this way for long, with the day only now beginning. Summers in California were never my favourite.
The use of magic yesterday had left me tired. I was low on money and I had to travel all the way up to Portland, Maine, where the Order's main chapter was located.
I wondered why they wouldn't hand me my paycheck here. Maybe the case was so important that everything related to it was handled by the main chapter. That would explain Kit's presence.
But again, if that had been the case, why hand it out to headhunters in the first place.
The Order only handed out cases that didn't necessitate the use of their special, immortal agents. Hunting down a low level, weak rogue, for example, was not something they bothered with. So, people like me handled them. Humans trained enough to get the task done but not powerful enough to be part of the Order's agents.
I went in search of a reasonably priced motel where I could get some sleep. Since I had no permanent house, all my belongings fit in a backpack. A meager weight for a woman in her mid twenties, I thought as I passed by a neatly dressed woman in a white pantsuit around my age.
Sometimes, I wondered what my life would have been like had I been a normal human. Would I be working some boring nine to five job? or maybe I would've been married with a couple of brats of my own?
I snorted out loud. The man walking beside me gave me a weirded out look and hastened his steps.
My life had been doomed from the beginning. But as uncle Robert always said in his heavily Irish-accented voice "make the best of what you have, lass."
God, I missed him. Maybe I should drop by for a visit before heading to Portland.
Portland.
I didn't want to go there. It was home to one of the Five. It was said they were the very first vampires on earth, and the most powerful of immortals.
But I needed the damn money. All I had to do was go there, get paid and haul ass.
Easy enough.
----------------
Hi guys!
I hope you liked this first chapter! Vote and comment if you did! If you didn't, well... thanks anyway :D
Also, if you notice any mistakes, please let me know. I appreciate it!
Follow me to get notifications about the upcoming chapters as soon as I post them.
Love,
Mia <3