No Life Kid 9B (Patreon)

Alastiriona “Alexis” Elspeth Armstrong sniffed the air, nostrils flaring from where she crouched on the edge of the six-story brick tenement. Late night air over Seattle was all damp concrete and diesel fumes, the salt off the Puget Sound enough to remind you that all the urban development in the world couldn’t scrub away the ocean. Boots finding purchase on the gritty ledge, she didn’t bother to blink as the wind whipped at her braided ponytail. Her green eyes were far too focused for that, cutting through the darkness as they trailed the beat up sedan through the residential streets below her. There you are, you wee shite.

Kevin Moreson… A good forty years of wasted breath, you are.

The bastard was doing his homework tonight as he drove; lingering looks at apartment complexes with ground-floor windows and uncovered sliding glass doors. The kind of behavior that told her the man hadn’t learned a damn thing from in prison, at least nothing good. 

Patience, lass. The former chef bit down on the growl she knew was far more her than the master’s blood. Don’t pop the cork til the meal’s out.

Moreson’s car turned left onto Pine Street, back lights blinking as it slowed down just a bit.

Alexis rose to her full height, no preparation or pause as she bodily launched herself into open air. Fifteen feet flew past, the gap to the next building nothing to her, Alexis nearly closing her eyes while the wind blew her braid back.Two years ago, this would’ve been nothing but suicide; way back when she was an ex-squaddie with a bad knee and a worse temper. Now, it might as well have been like stepping off a curb, gravity barely a worry, her body hitting the gravel rooftop with a controlled thud, momentum carrying her forward in a roll that bled off the impact. Right. You’re fine.

She came up in a crouch, already moving as the car stopped outside an elementary school, the after-care center still active. Even at this hour — well past midnight — a few cars were still in the lot, plenty of single mums working the graveyard shift and kids staying late because there was nowhere else safe to go.

Moreson killed his engine as Alexis pressed herself flat against the roof edge. Right. That’s enough of that.

She scuttled backward from the edge, giving herself some distance. 

Then she sprinted.

The dash across the roof was a blur, boots crunching loud on wet gravel as she leapt again towards the next building. She hit the opposite wall, fingers finding purchase in mortar joints with a grip that would’ve cracked brick if she wasn’t careful.

The descent was far from graceful; all brute force and physics arguing as force won out above all else. Muscles worked harder than biology should allow, tendons like iron cables with each movement to lower herself down the brick face. Careful, Alexis, you fall from here and you’ll look like a dropped pie.

Her feet finally hit the alley floor with a thud that rattled her teeth, knees bending to absorb the shock. Rising up again, she pressed up against the wall, eyes on his car while the bastard waited outside the lot. Smell him.

The world sharpened, the stench of wet garbage and stale urine fading away in place of cheap polyester, sweat and… arousal. Sick bastard.

The shadows between the buildings were deep, and she used them like a second skin with each motion; speed carrying her in bursts from cover to cover. She was far from invisible — Master Cray hadn’t given her that sort of gift — but she was fast enough she might as well have been a blur in the darkness of the night. 

Alexis circled wide, boots silent on the asphalt as she heard the man’s restless shifting in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, the wet sound of a tongue dragging across lips.

Disgusting piece o-

The car door opened.

Go.

Alexis burst out, body crossing twenty feet of pavement in the time it took Moreson to fully stand up. The man didn’t even get a chance to look at her, barely turning around even before she made contact.

One gloved hand clamped over his mouth, smothering the shout before it could leave him as her other arm wrapped around his chest. Arms pinned tight, she drove him forward, slamming him face-first into the side of his Honda.

Zip-ties and duct tape clattered free from his hands, scattering all across the lot, a cheap knife dropping to the ground with a metallic ping.

Moreson struggled against her, the man groaning and fighting with all the force of a toddler wrestling against the hydraulic press that was her weight leaning into him. His heart hammering against her forearm, she grinded his face against the cold metal of the car door and leaned close to his ear.

“Now then, Mr. Moreson…” he stilled all of a sudden, heart speeding up, “Lovely night for hunting wee ones, wouldn’t you say?”

She tightened her grip just enough to make his ribs creak. “Only problem is, you’re not the big bad wolf tonight.”

Muffled whimpers fought their way through her fingers, remnants of panicked screams doing their best to be heard. Pathetic. “My master’s going to have fun with you.”

Her grip shifted, the pressure point at the base of his neck weak under her thumb. The man’s knees buckled instantly, legs turning to jelly as she dangled him up like a puppet. “And if you’re very, very lucky, Kevin…”

She leaned in closer again, pulling him close as her lips brushed his ear.

“He might kill you quick.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Zander adjusted the brim of his hat, gloved finger tapping against the brim as he stood in the deepest dark of the alley. Damp cold seeped into the leather of his coat, the brick he was leaning against not all that comfortable.Still, it didn't matter.

A good thirty feet away, a gray sedan sat silently beneath a flickering sodium light; the man of the hour was inside doing the creep shuffle, shifting in his seat with one hand in his pants as he stared at the apartment building across the street. Stalking in a Ford Taurus? Have some self-respect.

Zander pushed off the wall, blue coat billowing behind him as it caught a breeze that definitely wasn’t blowing in the alley. Silence clung to his boots, Zander stepping into the pool of orange in front of the Taurus’s bumper with a smile on his face.

The guy jumped in his seat, Hendrick’s eyes wide and fluttering. “Marcus!” Zander threw his arms out wide, the circusmaster welcoming a clown as his shouts echoed off the silent wet pavement of 2 AM Seattle. “Buddy! Pal! My absolute favorite sexual predator in Seattle, how’s the wife?” He clicked his tongue, snapping gloved fingers loud enough that it echoed. “Oh wait, she left you. And moved three cities over… and filed a restraining order too? But you don’t really give a shit about those, do you?”Hendrick fumbled for something, panicked mutters leaving the man’s lips. Whether it was keys or a gun, Zander didn’t wait to find out as he stepped forward, planting his boots. Black gloved hands grabbed the seam of the car’s hood, the latch of it giving way like wet cardboard. “Lemme get that for you, Marky.”

It screamed, loud and high, the tortured shriek of steel tearing away from steel as the hood peeled back. It folded over and onto the windshield with a crash that shattered the safety glass apart as Hendrick screamed like a man seeing his death.

“Engine’s looking a little dusty there, huh?” Zander reached in, gloved hands finding purchase around the manifold, eyes peering into the open guts of the vehicle. “Let’s clean that out for you.”He tugged and the motor mounts snapped with cracks loud as gunshots, coolant and oil spraying everywhere as Zander held the dripping, smoking mass of metal skyward for a second while Hendricks just gaped.He tossed it aside, the thing hitting the asphalt with a tremor that gouged a small divot next to the car. Still in the front seat, the predator was hyperventilating, the man pressed back against the seat as a smell hit Zander’s nostrils.The vampire sniffed, the scent of sharp hot ammonia hitting him.“Awww.” He walked slowly to the driver’s side door, the glass already half-shattered by the hood impact. “Woook who made a widdle mess.” Zander leaned in, elbows resting on the door frame as the man inside struggled to catch his breath. “That smell’s never coming out, man. You just tanked the resale value on this baby.”One gloved finger reached in, tapping Hendrick on the forehead. “Not. Ve-ry. Smart.”Another trickle of piss hit the seat.Mmm. “Now… I could give you the whole ‘change your way, find redemption, Jesus loves you’ speech. All very moving. It’s a classic for a reason, you know?” Zander took a moment to sigh, eyes inspecting a spot of oil on his glove. “But the thing is… honestly, I’m a growing boy and I haven’t been to church in a whole lifetime, so… eh.”He leaned closer, fangs sliding down and out. “Now, nod if you understand you are currently the appetizer.”Hendrick’s head bobbed frantically up and down.Oh, that’s the good stuff. Nostrils flared as the scent of a racing heart overtook the piss, fear chemicals enough to make his eyes shine brighter behind the glasses. Five stars.‘Master?’

The voice echoed in his skull, Zander flinching as the Scottish brogue bounced around the innards of his head in the worst way. God d… He bit back a grunt, not trying to ruin his whole scary thing by looking like he was in pain. Hate drudge telepathy. 

It was fine for them, not so much for him.‘Speak.’ He projected back, pulling on the blood tie that connected him and Alexas. Teeth clenched tight as he did so, the feeling like plucking a guitar only the guitar was one of his brain cells.

‘I’ve got Moreson all tied up for you, young Master. I’d get over quick, though. Wouldn’t want him having a heart attack on me.’

Zander’s grin widened, splitting his face as Hendrick’s eyes rolled back in his head and the man slumped back in his seat. “Nah, wouldn’t want that at all.”