Friday Flash Fiction

The Job Never Ends ©2006, Tempest Knight I pulled the silver stake from the puddle of what once had been a vampire. A minor vampire. Under 50 years old. Not very powerful. But a sadistic one. The bastard had physically and mentally raped 200 women in the USA this year alone. Until now. He'd picked me up at the rave club hoping to make me his victim #201. But he hadn't expected this "victim" to fight him. Or stick a silver stake through his heart. Without a second glance, I walked back to my SUV parked close to the alley. Black gooey dripped from the stake, and smoke rose from it. The stench was overwhelming. I poured holy water over it. Once clean, I shoved it in the gym bag with the others. I hefted the bag and winced. My left shoulder had taken the brunt when the vampire had shoved me against the wall. Tomorrow it was going to hurt like a bitch. After dropping it on the passenger seat, I pulled some wet towels from the glove compartment and cleaned the dry blood stuck on my skin. The vampires’. Not mine. A good sign of a good hunt. I slipped into my SUV and looked at my watch. 4:00 AM. After the adrenaline rush, tiredness was sipping in. I needed coffee. Yeah, a big dose of caffeine would do my body good. I parked in front of the Midnight Moon Café. I grabbed a silver stiletto and slipped it on my boot before I walked in. I never asked for trouble, but trouble always seemed to find me. I liked to be prepared. The place was almost empty, except for a young Goth woman sitting on a table with a laptop opened and a couple of werewolves drinking coffee and chatting at the counter. Good. I hated crowded places. I leaned against the counter. "Hey, Cassie. Send some coffee." The red-headed waitress wrote it down, and with a nod, she turned to fill my order. "Black," I added over my shoulder as I headed toward the booth on the far back. As I slid in, the bells over the door jingled. A tall figure stood on the threshold. My eyes widened. I hadn’t met the man face to face, yet, but I’d seen him a few times in public appearances from afar. Always surrounded by those damn vampires. Well, well, well. The night isn't over and it's already getting interesting. His obsidian hair fell in soft curls down to his collar. His lips were lush, yet masculine. I wondered... I shook my head. Don't go there, sistah. I couldn’t tell the color of his eyes from this distance. My gaze lazily trailed over his body. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. The loose slacks couldn't hide his powerful legs. A man used to exercise. Pampered by vampires, I’d expect him to be fat and flabby. He exuded an aura of subtle sensuousness. Stop that. Remember who he is. With eyes narrowed slightly and a smirk on my lips, I studied him again. If he was trying to blend in, he was doing a lousy job. Although he was dressed casually, his expensive clothes singled him out. As if sensing my thorough inspection, his gaze went to where I was sitting. I quickly lowered my eyes and leaned further back into the seat, trying to keep my presence concealed. As if. For once I wished this damn place was crowded. I could feel his penetrating eyes on me. Or maybe I was being paranoid. I risked a peek anyway and watched him walked toward the booth on the opposite side of the café. Nice butts. I shook my head again. Great. I wasn't even an "ass" woman. He slid into the booth and seemed to greet someone. I craned a bit but I couldn't see the other person. I nibbled my lower lip as I considered my next move. His presence here intrigued me. Surely he wasn't here for a cup of coffee. But before I made up my mind, I noticed him slide off the booth and leave the coffee shop in a hurry. As I was to get up and follow him, a white-blond vampire appeared from the booth, and I gasped in surprised. What the hell is he doing here? That moment of distraction cost me. His eyes connected with mine and held my gaze. Electricity surged through me, heating my body. I closed my eyes and shook her head. Double damn! The vampire was trying to bespell me. When I opened them, he was standing three feet away from me. His blue-within-blue eyes swirled. His smile full of seduction. "Good evening, Madame." His French-accented voice was like soft, cool velvet brushing against my heated skin. I couldn’t help rubbing my arms. It was then his gaze fell on the bruises, already turning a ghastly yellowish and black. "Someone I knew," he asked. His voice had suddenly grown dark and deep, a dangerous edge creeping in it. His eyes cold, devoid of emotions. I slid my arms off the table and shrugged. What could I say? Maybe? "Here's your coffee, hon." For a moment my glance flickered to Cassie, who was placing a cup of the steamy black liquid on the table, and then back to where the vampire was. Gone. "Thanks." Ignoring the smell of freshly brewed java beans, I took a good sip. A powerful new vampire and a high-ranking man in the Master Vampire entourage. My mind was swirling with questions. Why were they meeting in a place like this? Then another question popped in my head. What could have that vampire told him that made him almost run out of here? Something wicked this way comes. "Oh, hi. My name is Jean Malone," a young blond woman babbled in a rush as she slid on the opposite chair, jarring me out of my muse. She looked around nervously. I just arched my eyebrow and kept drinking my coffee. "Th-they told me... I mean... Uh. A-are you--?" "Star. Calista Star. Demon slayer. Ghost buster. Werewolf hunter. All around spook for otherworldly creatures. Both alive or undead."