And to Hold: Vampire Assassin League, #20

By Jackie Ivie

We Kill for Profit

A MYSTERIOUS MADAME
Ruxanna is vampiric and voluptuous. And vengeful. She's making every man pay for what was done to her. It was a man who'd taken her, imprisoned her for years, and used her for his own ends in fifteenth century Romania. Men are the enemy. That's why she runs a bordello. She doesn't need to hunt them. They come to her. And they even pay for the privilege.

A BOUNTY HUNTER
Zachariah Reed is a chameleon. A skill that fits well with his chosen fields: private investigating and bounty hunting. He'll be whatever the circumstance calls for. Right now, he's got very high priced prey in his sights. A man who mutilates women and enjoys it. His target frequents brothels, and that means Zach has to follow. Regardless of where it leads and who might be waiting...

BONDAGE GAMES
As a house of ill repute, Castle Kraven isn't the busiest. It isn't the most expensive. Nor is it the most exclusive. But it is off the beaten track. Mysterious. Enigmatic. Shadowy. But Zach isn't there for pleasure or fantasy. He's got other plans. None of which include a gorgeous, mesmerizing woman, who knows exactly what he's really hunting for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jackie Ivie
• Release date: Jan 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781939820402

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Whorehouses.

Tons of breasts. Thighs. Lots of options. All fantasies allowed. If a customer had the funds, anything and everything was offered. There was only one thing Zachariah Penn wanted –a man who abused and mutilated women. The guy he chased had done just that, to two formerly-beautiful women. Two of Mister Hong’s best girls. Mister Hong wasn’t taking that lying down. The Hong family offered a huge bounty. Dead or alive. No questions asked.

That’s why Zach was out here, traveling in a horse-drawn carriage through wooded territory that had cast long shadows before the sun had gone down. This particular bounty was too big to pass up. One-point-five-million. In Euros. That was enough to get Zachariah Penn’s interest. That’s why he was chasing a piece of shit named Leroy, barely missing him in three shithole establishments so far. Leroy wasn’t hard to follow. The bastard left a swath of mutilated women in his path. He liked to carve on breasts, cut across ass-cheeks, and slit cheeks to widen mouths. He was a complete bastard. The entire assignment was getting beneath Zach’s skin.

There wasn’t much that could make this worse.

Zach slid a glance toward his companion again. The coach swayed, rocking him on his bench. The gas-lit lantern hanging from the roof sent light back and forth. Back. Forth. The other gentleman appeared to have made a corresponding shift, but it was a little too studied. Unnatural. Everything about the other traveler gave Zach pause. The guy hadn’t said two words since meeting him. He hadn’t even moved until the sun had gone down. Yet, now he watched Zach with intense dark eyes. More than once, Zach had palmed his knife as they studied each other.

He’d gone backward in time or something.

This must be what the customers wanted. The higher priced the establishment, the more they catered to their clientele’s vagaries. And this one was expensive. Just getting into this carriage had cost almost a thousand Euros. He hadn’t dressed appropriately, though. The gentleman opposite him was outfitted in some archaic fashion that probably suited the late Victorian era. Maybe earlier. Zach didn’t know or care. He wasn’t an aficionado of history or men’s fashion. He wore black slacks, a plain tan-shaded pullover, and a tailored sport coat large enough for his shoulders. And yet he was the one who looked odd and out-of-place.

The place they journeyed to sounded just as bad.

The newest cathouse Leroy was visiting was located in a haunted castle, something called Kraven – spelled with a K – as if nobody could guess what really happened there. It wasn’t listed in any tourist brochure. It didn’t show up well on the satellite photo Zach had studied on the way. Castle Kraven was old, decayed, and straddling some no-man’s land in the mountains near the Romanian border. Nobody seemed to know much about it. Or even check. Castle Kraven was off the beaten path by several kilometers and centuries away from modernity.

Zach lifted the black curtain semi-affixed to the coach wall and glanced out. It was pitch black outside. No moon. He wondered for a moment how the coachman managed to stay on the road while keeping control of the six matching black horses. But that wasn’t his problem and he didn’t much care. Zach turned his attention back to his companion. The guy on the opposing bench set his nerves on edge. He couldn’t quite figure out why. Something wasn’t right.

Good evening, the man said.

Likewise, Zach replied.

My name is Reginald—

I don’t want to know your name, Zach interrupted him.

Ah. You must have...business at Castle Kraven.

Well, I’m not going there for the wine, Zach replied.

Perhaps I can interest you—

No. You can’t.

How will you know until you hear my offer?

Oh. You don’t have anything I want, buddy. Including conversation. Trust me.

Zach cut him off again. His travelling companion laughed. And then the coach jerked to a stop. Zach’s back smacked into the seat behind him. Reginald didn’t seem to even move.

Halt! You move and we’ll shoot!

A voice shouted it from outside the coach. They had to be kidding. It wasn’t enough to parody the past? They had to playact highway robbery, too? And why was he even wondering it? He’d seen stranger things in the last few places. It was obvious. Customers of Castle Kraven got nothing but the best.

Of the eighteenth century, anyway.

Now was not a good time to be in a lighted carriage, almost blind. Zach reached up and grabbed for the lamp, caught it on a return swing, and started twisting the wick back into the oil. He wasn’t fast enough. The door cracked open and somebody chucked in what looked like a grenade. It made a thunk sound on the wooden floor and then it rolled to a stop right beneath his left foot.

A grenade?

Son of a—!

Zach had a second to recognize and evaluate; another to shove his head under his arm, and a last second to recognize that this was it. He was leaving planet earth, and didn’t even have time to bend over and kiss his ass goodbye. Only it wasn’t anything like he expected. There was a pop sound as the grenade ruptured, followed by a hissing sound, and then the enclosure filled with so much water, it was hard to breathe, while his companion started shrieking like he’d been sprayed with napalm. Zach swiped a hand across his eyes, moving hair that was plastered to his face with the amount of moisture in the air. Yep. It was just water.

So why did it smell like something was burning?

The door got yanked open, sending night air in to swirl the water vapor to mist. A crossbow jutted in at his knee level. The infiltrator was standing outside on the ground, aiming upward. Zach tromped on the bow, and felt the projectile race across the bottom of his shoe sole. He had bastards attacking and they were using arrows? What the hell was wrong with these people?

We got one vamp, and one schmuck!

Schmucks first!

Somebody shouted. Somebody else answered, and another person stuck another crossbow into the aperture. Zach kicked a neck and snagged the bow. He was on his way to flipping it around, when it got really nasty. They tazed him.

Dual hooks slapped into his shirt with 25,000 volts of power, delivering 4 mil amperage. Zach cried out and dropped, every muscle locked as he convulsed along the floorboard. He’d also lost grip on the weapon. The crossbow danced along beside him with the force of his movements, adding a thudding sound to the mix. He clenched his teeth together to prevent cracking any of them.

And now the vampire. Go!

Vampire?

He heard it. He even watched it. Somebody grabbed the crossbow from beside him, aimed it from about six inches away, and shot a short arrow right into his traveling companion. The arrow speared right through Reginald, sticking his out-of-date coat to his chest. But something was really weird. Reginald’s face wasn’t a face. It looked more like a pitted mask from some horror flick, with black and red holes eating through the flesh that each sent a waft of smoke upward.

They shut off their stunner. Zach’s muscles took a nosedive to exhaustion, and he just lay there watching three guys in matching camouflage outfits take over the coach. Two sat where he had been. One sat beside Reginald’s corpse.

Who...are you guys? Zach asked. He was trying to