Hold Their Peace: Vampire Assassin League, #15

By Jackie Ivie

We Kill for Profit
It's an Undead Thing

THE WARRIOR
Thanos of Macedon is pure warrior. Hardened by battle. Honed by the sword. Forged to the temperament of steel. Emotionless. Strong. Set. Victory is the only allowable outcome. Surrender and defeat do not exist. Mortal life in Alexander the Great's army molded Thanos into a war machine. Centuries of afterlife haven't done a thing to alter it.

THE TOURIST
Darcy Mullins is vacationing on the cheap - tagging along on an archeological dig site with her friend - but even if she is amid ruins, rain and really old guys, this is the Mediterranean. There's going to be hot sand. Hot sun. Hot guys. Hot times. She's not looking for commitment. She wants no strings. No regrets. No worries.

THE LABYRINTH
One night of covert digging leads to black market dealing, murder, and one hell of a hot guy. Unbelievably hot. Darcy can't believe her eyes as what appears to be an real, honest-to-goodness Avenging Angel drops out of the sky right in time to save the girls. This vacation just took a turn right to perfect - if only he'd drop the vampire stuff...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jackie Ivie
• Release date: Oct 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781939820235

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

You promised me heat, Lizbeth. A vacation full of heat. Hot days. Hot sun. Hot sand. Hot guys. You know. Hot. Darcy spit out another strand of wind-blown, rain-filled hair, making the last word sputter.

You wouldn’t know what to do with a hot guy, kiddo.

Look at him. Duh.

Well, in that case, the guy at the gyro stand in town was hot.

He was also a midget.

Everyone is a midget to you.

Funny. Funny. Ha. Ha. Darcy replied.

I don’t know why you keep complaining.

"Right. You’ve got me in some completely forgotten corner of this dig site, standing in the continuous drizzle in order to hold a light for you since it’s dead-thirty at night, and yet you wonder why I’m complaining? Really? I mean, really?"

You know this area is off limits during the day. And come in a little closer. I can’t quite make this out.

Darcy moved a step and lowered the penlight a fraction. Look. I agreed to be your ‘Plus-One’ on this trip because it sounded like a fantastic vacation for the price. I mean who could resist your sales pitch? The Mediterranean coast. Great food. Olives. Cheese. Amazing wines. And all at a villa amid sun, sand, and surf. And let’s not forget the promise of hot guys. Twenty-four seven. Wow. I’m amazed at my gullibility.

This is a villa, Darcy.

I think somebody forgot to mention that it was last occupied in Roman times, and that it’s roofless so we’d be relegated to sleeping in a tent. Oh. And let’s not forget that this place might not have a rainy season, but you couldn’t prove it by me. And while I’m at it, let’s just add in that the only guy in sighting distance out here is over seventy.

Somebody should’ve asked for specifics. And the professor is not that old.

In comparison to what? This column? Darcy slapped at the marble beside her.

That column is a classic example of an Ionic column. Beautifully rendered.

Right. It’s a column. They’re everywhere around here. Some standing. Some fallen. All of them identical. Just like that one you’re digging under. Who cares?

They’re not identical, Lizbeth answered in the clinical, non-emotional tone she seemed to always use. These are actually Ionic columns. A fact that helps date the site.

Right. Darcy looked at the nicely fluted and worn structure and then leaned against it. It was a column. Same as every other one she’d seen. This particular one was also blocking a bit of the wind-driven rain on this side. She was all for that.

You can tell columns by the top design, my friend. Flat is Doric. Rolled ends that look like scrolls are called Ionic, and the intricate, leaf-looking ones are Corinthian columns.

Oh. Well. Just let me file that away in useless facts, along with the knowledge of algebra.

Bring the light closer, would you? And lower your voice already. What we’re doing could get us arrested.

For what? Digging up rocks? Isn’t that why you came?

This is a piece of pottery, not a rock. And we’re not supposed to be here at night. This is a newly discovered area and it’s already been rifled. The professor is worried.

How can you tell?

Several items have gone missing. Already. And there’s a huge black market for artifacts.

I mean how can you tell he’s worried? The guy has a perpetual frown, and a lot of lines.

Cute. I can tell because I overheard him posting guards just this afternoon. Tilt the light just a hair, would you? I think this might be an inscription.

We have guards? When did that happen? And why didn’t you say something? They might be hot. This sounds promising.

You haven’t seen the inside of a Greek cell if you think that. I need the light closer, Darcy. Tonight. Okay?

Darcy took two steps closer and squatted beside her friend, trying to keep her chino-covered knees dry. How much time could we get, you think?

I’ll be done in a few minutes.

Darcy lowered her voice to a theatrical level. I mean...in a cell. Just think. Us. Alone. Amid all sorts of horrors. Her tone brightened. Then again. There will probably be guys.

Yeah. Fat, ugly guys who don’t bathe. Hold it steady. I think I can just make out what looks like an inscription. Right beneath the image of a man. Can you see it?

A man? That looks like a porn shot of two guys. And that one has a really nice sized—

Darcy!

Lizbeth interrupted. Darcy grinned. And then she heard voices weirdly echoing through the area. Male voices. They were speaking in low tones. Out here? In this muck-filled archeological site? In the middle of the night?

You hear that?

Lizbeth whispered it. Darcy killed the flashlight but the area was still illuminated. Both women moved as one to peer over the column edge. The reason for the light was instantly obvious, even through the rain-filled night. One of the small High Intensity Discharge lights from the dig site was held aloft by a cloaked figure. It was shedding light on the professor and four other dark-cloaked figures. The professor and one guy were gesturing and arguing. Even to an untrained eye, it looked like they were making a deal or trying to. The professor held out a large wrapped bundle. Somebody snatched at it. That didn’t look to go over well, as the professor tried to grab it back and got material, while the light glinted off an urn-thing.

Isn’t that the professor? Darcy whispered, stating the obvious.

Shh!

And isn’t that one of your newly-discovered artifacts?

Will you hush?

Are you joking? Your precious professor is over there making a black market deal, and you’re shushing me?

"You want them to spot us?"

We’re not that loud. I mean listen to that argument. Wait a second. I have my phone.

Why? It doesn’t work out here.

Habit. And the camera function doesn’t need a link.

Oh. Good call. You can film this. I can’t believe the professor! Selling artifacts? I mean...I’m seeing it, but I just can’t believe it.

Lizbeth’s whisper sounded full of shock and disgust. Darcy slid her cell from her pocket, tapped the screen on, and then pressed the camera button. The next moment she was aiming it, and got a perfect shot as one of the cloaked fellows rammed what looked like a long knife right through the professor’s chest cavity.

It happened so fast! And so quietly. The phone dropped. Darcy’s mouth was right behind it, while her eyes went wide and shocked. It was her best friend, the completely level-headed scientist that turned into a moron. Lizbeth stood up and started screaming. The sound caused the cloaked figures to turn in their direction, while the HID light fell and rolled, sending arcs of illumination that sharpened every nose into a beak and every mouth into a fang-filled snarl. But that was impossible and she was over-imaginative, and right now her mind was working overtime. Lizbeth clamped a hand to her mouth, but that was beyond stupid. And way too late. Darcy yanked her back down behind the column, and then watched as the professor’s body sagged, in a slow-motion fashion, to its knees before going full-out onto its front.

Oh my God!

Lizbeth whispered it, but it didn’t matter now. The cloaked figures were moving toward them. Growing larger and blacker as they neared. Lizbeth had pegged one thing accurately earlier. These guys were probably the type that belonged in a cell. They were ugly enough, but none of them looked remotely overweight. And then, oddly enough, Darcy couldn’t