Saraphel

By Ash Adler

2800 years ago, society collapsed, and the former species of humans was splintered. Those who remained “human” found themselves able to tap into forces beyond scientific ken. Those who didn’t took on other forms: vampires who existed outside the normal cycle of life and death, lycanthropes who could channel the spirits of nature through their physical forms, and mutants who incited contempt and fear for their unpredictable abilities.

During the ensuing global war, the vampire Saraphel had thrived as an assassin, using her stunning beauty as just as much of a weapon as her martial prowess. In her mind, there was no target safe from her reach, no foe who was her superior, but the war had ended eventually. In the resulting world, she carved out a new place for herself by catering to the darkness and depravity lurking within others. However, when her peace is shattered by an unknown assailant, she finds herself alone, besieged, and seeking a target for her fury. Desperation forges strange alliances as she tries to exact revenge, and behind it all lurks a plot renew feuds that had lain dormant for centuries.

Contains a discussion guide for reading groups.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ash Adler
• Release date: May 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463089682

Ash Adler

I was born and raised in the United States before moving to Toronto, Canada. An insatiable hunger for the written word burned in me from an early age and, together with an active imagination and some friendly encouragement, drove me into writing as an escape from the trappings of the mundane world.

Book preview

Saraphel

By Ash Adler

Copyright 2017 Ash Adler

Cover by Vila Design

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This ebook is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Dedicated to my southern rose, who was my muse, my sounding board, and my anchor when I needed it most.

Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

Reading Group Questions

About Ash Adler

Prologue

Saraphel’s lips twisted into a malevolent sneer as the lycanthrope’s head exploded, splattering everything in close proximity with blood and gore, herself included. She retracted her glaive; a five foot length of bamboo topped with an eighteen inch, single-edged blade of pure iron; with a flourish and kicked aside the body before it could fall on her. Alright, she said, turning that sneer on the other two men in the bedroom, who’s ready to die next?

The men did not even glance at one another before charging at her. They made no attempts to work together, though, and so Saraphel had no difficulty fending off the wild swings of claw-tipped hands and snaps from half-formed muzzles. She toyed with them, practically dancing as she retreated around the room. Finally, growing bored with her little game after a minute or so, she leapt back gracefully and twirled towards the middle of the room, whipping the glaive in a wide sweep around herself as she went. The blade slid smoothly through one man’s torso, cleaving an instantly-charred swath through flesh and bone alike. That one fell to his knees, clutching the wound, only to be trampled as the last man standing rushed over him to reach Saraphel.

However, she knew what he was going to do even before he did. Saraphel met the lycanthrope with two high swings, smacking him hard on either side of his jaw with the bamboo shaft. That was good enough to stun the resilient beast for a moment, and a moment was all it took her to flip the glaive into a reversed grip and thrust upwards, driving its butt into his throat and crushing his windpipe. The lycanthrope clutched his neck as he crumbled right on top of the trampled one, who had just been starting to rise when the dead weight fell on top of him. Smiling, Saraphel stabbed through both of their chests and kept the blade in them for moment it took for their bodies to erupt, leaving ragged, dinner plate-sized holes in their torsos.

Mangy savages, she muttered while wiping her glaive off on the nearest body’s hindquarters. Fortunately, lycanthropes changed to a purely human form after death. She did not want to touch wolf or bear or whatever other animal’s hair any more than she had to.

With her favorite weapon somewhat cleaned, Saraphel examined herself in a mirror. The room’s sconces were arranged to be alluringly dim, causing her reflection to be shrouded in shadows, but that mattered little to her exceptionally sharp vision. She was plastered in enough blood to almost hide her skin, the same pale alabaster with just a hint of the bluish pallor that marked all vampires. Her gaze paused for a moment on the script ‘H’ branded on the left side of her abdomen, a remnant from her brief life as a human. Will this ever heal? She had lost count centuries ago of how many times that thought had come to her. Forcing herself to look further up, she admired her plump breasts and then her attractive face. Even the mask of crimson could not hide her statuesque bone structure, nor diminish the luster of her hazel eyes, flowing brown hair, and full, redder-than-blood lips.

Feeling in higher spirits after losing herself in her beauty, Saraphel stepped out of the room. A look to either side revealed nobody else in the hallway, for which she was glad. As much as she loved her appearance, she did not like other people seeing her naked without her permission, especially not the sorts who would be in a brothel known for catering to various exotic fetishes.

She had barely taken two steps, though, when a shout came from behind her. Hey! Little miss warrior princess! It was a woman’s voice, and one that Saraphel knew all too well. It was Jessica, a human who also happened to be First Mistress of The Coven of Dreams and one of those rare ones who was not cowed by the presence of vampires and lycanthropes despite being unable to Weave anything of worth. "Just where do you think you’re going in that condition?"

Saraphel turned and dipped into an overdramatic curtsy. My pardons, she said in an acidic tone, but I was going to get cleaned up.

And your clients…? Jessica fixed her with a stern gaze, but she might as well have been staring at a rock for all the effect it had. Saraphel was one of the few in the brothel who were not cowed by the First Mistress’s presence.

They got exactly what they came here to get, the vampire answered flippantly.

Knowing you, they probably paid before they went up a single stair, right?

Saraphel put on a false smile. Of course. People are just so reluctant to pay after they’re taught the real meaning of complete submission. And that’s not even counting the ones who learn too slowly for my tastes. Not to mention how I would just hate someone to tell me that they had already spent everything they had before I even started on them.

Jessica rolled her eyes more than once after failing to get a word in edgewise during the explanation. Whatever, whatever. Just don’t make a worse mess of things, then. If I hear about any blood getting on anything here, it’s your ass.

Slapping her rear playfully with her free hand, Saraphel responded, You know my rules, Jessie. You’ve got to pay if you want a piece of this. The First Mistress gave a huff and stormed off, and Saraphel’s smile at that was genuine. Irritating that woman was rather fun for her.

Once in her private quarters, she found things there much as she had left them: a modest bed, a dresser with some clothing and accessories laid out on it haphazardly, a set of full-height mirrors arranged so that she could view herself from all directions at once, and a slave, wearing leather sandals and a loincloth, shielding his eyes from the sudden light as he sat huddled in the corner. Get up, Saraphel ordered while taking a lamp out of the dresser and lighting it. Fetch a bucket and clean me up, and take care of my glaive, too. Are you fucking sick or something? Do it now!

The final shout seemed to break whatever was keeping him in place, and the man; barely a man by age, but a man nonetheless; rushed off to do as she had commanded. His servitude had nothing to do with her role in the brothel. He was an Acolyte, a human sworn to serve a particular vampire with the hope of being made immortal in return. Saraphel found the whole idea distasteful, even though she recognized that an inherently sterile race should be doing whatever it had to do to ensure its survival. Plus, aside from being her only current Acolyte, this one was mildly skilled at Weaving, which made him far more useful than most. Upon his return, the Acolyte went through what he always did after her assignments, Weaving Threads of Water and Air to wash her off without spilling a drop or touching her physically, followed by Fire and Water and Anima to repair any damage to the glaive and renew its corrosion protection. He seemed to be getting faster at the routine, though like anyone else, Saraphel could only see the results of what he did, not what he was actually doing.

Of course, she was not about to pretend to be satisfied about how long the whole process took, either. Not bad, she said, not bothering to face him as she set down the weapon. Still, I shouldn’t have had to wait for you to fetch anything. You should’ve learned by now what I’d need when I come here. You should’ve been quicker about it, too, but I guess after what I did for that ‘accidental’ bump last week, you’ll be moving around a little slowly for a while, won’t you? She sighed heavily, feigning reluctance. Anyway, you still need to be punished, but I think I’ll save it for another time. For now, just dress me well enough to be seen in public. That skank owes me the other half of my payment for those two lycanthropes, and I wouldn’t put it past her to have set up the third to come here too in hopes of getting a free murder.

One

Three hundred years have passed since the end of the Race Wars, the period following humanity’s scientific pinnacle. Nobody knew exactly what happened to start them, as it was an impossible thing to know. No single event could have really been responsible for dropping the world’s population from the billions into the thousands all but overnight. Much else was lost then too, in the ways of technology and science.

Yet where some things were lost, others were gained. A portion of the survivors gained the power to tap into previously undiscovered stores of energy, Weaving the Threads of these primal powers – Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Anima, and Ardor – into acts of magic that were considered impossible before. Others found themselves cut off from such sources, but blessed instead with immortality, at the cost of being the only creatures in the world to lack Anima yet not be dead. Still others found themselves imbued with the forms of certain animals, though juggling that much Anima left no opportunity for Weaving. And still others were changed in innumerable, unimaginable ways. Eventually, humans, vampires, lycanthropes, and mutants learned to inhabit the world together after failing to eradicate each other for two and a half thousand years.

But these people were no more able to truly coexist peacefully than the people who lived before the start of the Race Wars. Three centuries have passed without seeing enough bloodshed to start a new war. Only time would tell when that limit would be exceeded.

Saraphel was certainly doing her part to help.

With her Acolyte’s help, she was dressed in short order; a simple camisole, shorts, and low-cut boots, all tight enough to show that she was carrying no weapons other than the glaive resting in a sling on her back; and out on the streets of Rockheart. The city was named for its geography, having been built around a large hill of volcanic stone. The moon was full that night, casting enough light for most people to not need torches, somewhat to her dismay since such bright objects tended to keep lycanthropes away. Her reaction was not because she was concerned about being attacked in the racially neutral sex trade district, nor in the vampire-dominated quarter that she was headed to, and not because she was afraid of her chances if such an event came to pass but because she was not in the mood for any delays in getting her pay. You remember who I’m looking for? she snapped at her Acolyte.

He nodded silently, having been taught not to speak unless told to.

Good. I want you to let me know when you see her if she’s not there before us. Just set the nearest building on fire or something. Her steps quickened slightly as they crossed into a neighborhood with nearly all the windows boarded crudely. The unofficial borders between the different areas of Rockheart were easy places to find trouble, but she was not looking for any that night. I don’t need to tell you to make it a rather harmless sign, do I?

The Acolyte shook his head.

Good. Keep up this behavior, and I might let you pick out which scourge I’ll flay you with the next time you need it. Watching from the corner of her eye, she saw him shudder subtly. Tell me, do you think that’ll be any time soon?

I serve as best I can, he answered mechanically, speaking with a lovely soprano voice that did not fit the tone at all. The musical beauty of his speech was a large part of the reason why Saraphel did not let him talk often. Thinking and judging on my behalf are left to you, mistress.

Sudden twists of her elbow and shoulder brought Saraphel’s left hand up in a backhand slap only strong enough to make the Acolyte stagger back one step before he resumed his position at her flank. The least you can do is not upset me when I loosen your tongue. You should know better than to use that title in public.

He opened his mouth to apologize but fortunately noticed the trap before saying anything and instead settled for averting his gaze downward.

After stopping and waiting for a few more seconds to draw out the tense moment, Saraphel said, At least your answer was the right one. Now wait there, she added, motioning at a nondescript shop just up the street from the Stormraiser Brood’s mercenary lounge. I shouldn’t be long, if she’s here already. Her Acolyte went as told, and she continued into the stone building.

Ah, Saraphel Delaine, called out the receptionist as soon as she had entered. To what do we owe your visit?

Saraphel sauntered over to his counter and leaned on it, granting the other vampire a view of her cleavage. I was a bit curious about something, actually. My contract with Janice Embes…it does say I’m only supposed to deal with two persons in it, right?

The receptionist pursed his lips and tapped the tips of his fingers together. Embes…Embes… he muttered. You drew up the assignment with her for two lycanthropes, yes.

You’re sure? asked Saraphel.

He glanced down her camisole before answering, Absolutely. She had wanted to do them separately but was not willing to pay for the extra effort that that would take on your part, so she settled on having both arrange for a group session with you at that delightful house of Jessica’s. In return, you agreed to refund the initial payment in the event of your death. He cracked a smile and chuckled as if he had just told a mild joke. I daresay the Lady Embes did not realize who she was dealing with, considering how her eyes lit up at your little ‘concession’.

No, but she found another way to fuck me.

The receptionist sighed and replied, You almost make my heart beat when you say things like that.

Smiling coyly, Saraphel reached over the counter to brush his cheek with her fingertips. Lowering her voice against any potential eavesdropping, she said, I wouldn’t be surprised if you made me live again during one of your visits to Jessica’s place. Between you and me, you’re one of my favorite people to see there.

He licked his lips and almost managed to force his smile to be entirely platonic. Is there anything else you wish to know?

She barely managed to avoid showing any hint of a smile. Playing with her brothel clients was a sport she never tired of. There is one more thing, Saraphel said as she straightened. Is Janice here?

She arrived just a few moments ago, actually.

After a glance around to make sure nobody was looking their way, she lunged over the counter for a quick peck on the receptionist’s cheek. You’ve been as helpful as ever. See you later, she said, turning to walk into the lounge without waiting to hear any response from him.

Saraphel spotted Janice almost immediately, sitting alone at a table with her wrists bound in the telltale white cloth of a client. As she was crossing the room, however, a hand reached out from the mass of other clients and brood members to stop her advance by pressing against her chest. She started moving to break the groper’s arm until she saw the offender’s face. Doing nothing to hide her emotions, she let her arms fall slack and sneered. Jen Strider, she said, making the name sound like a curse.

Three groups of people could enter a vampire brood’s buildings safely: members of that brood, allowed patrons, and city officials. Much to Saraphel’s dislike, the city guards belonged the latter category. Sara, Jen replied, grinning. His left cheek bore a tattoo of a flaming skull – the ancestral symbol of the Blightfist Brood – and his expression distorted it into a macabre smile of its own.

Saraphel, she corrected emphatically. Sworn enemies don’t deserve to address me in such casual terms. Especially not when they’re also assholes, like you.

Jen put on an expression of mock hurt as he asked, And whatever did I do to cross you? When she looked down at his outstretched hand, he laughed and said, This? I’m just checking you for any concealed weapons. City guard business, you know? He squeezed each of her breasts. Well, you seem clean.

Is that all? Saraphel asked impatiently.

Actually, no, it’s not. Where were you two nights ago around this time?

She rolled her eyes and answered, Working. Why?

Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts? Jen replied, ignoring her question.

A few people can. Now are you going to tell me why you’re asking me all of these things, or am I going to have to just walk away?

Not interested in the options she presented, Jen asked, Like who?

Saraphel smirked silently for a moment before responding, You know, it can be awfully dangerous for a vampire to be in a house belonging to a rival brood. It’s the sort of situation that can really leave you open to some unfortunate accidents. Even for a guard, she added, finishing with a contemptuous flick at his red beret.

Jen glared at her before rising at a measured pace. He was a large man, towering over Saraphel by just over a foot in height and carrying twice her weight in lean muscle, and he had a presence about him that made his size almost superfluous. For all that, though, his imposing figure did nothing to intimidate Saraphel. The noise in the room muted noticeably as he started to say, You want to talk about accidents? Two nights ago, a guardsman was found torn into three pieces by a pair of clean swipes with something sharp and thin. Single strokes, so it probably wasn’t a lycanthrope, and the guy was a vampire, so it couldn’t have been a human unless he could Weave up something fierce. So that leaves the most likely suspect to be a vampire, and seeing as this guard was also a Blightfist, can you guess which brood that makes me the most suspicious of? Well, it starts with ‘storm’ and rhymes with ‘razor’. Despite the thickening tension in the room, Jen threw back his head and howled with laughter. Not that I’m accusing anyone, of course. Just saying that this seemed like a good place to ask some questions.

Saraphel scowled and completed his sentence with, To me.

Pointing at her glaive, Jen said, That spearamabob of yours could’ve done it.

From what you’ve said, so could’ve any sword, and probably a lot of axes, too.

The guard shrugged dismissively. We could go on and on about what could’ve happened without getting anywhere. The important thing is that now the law’s burden is on you to tell me if you know or learn about anything related to this crime. Do keep in touch, Sara.

Saraphel, she corrected again.

Saraphel, he conceded with a mocking bow. Anyway, now that I’ve talked to all of the more…temperamental members of your brood, I’ll be on my way. Rockheart won’t protect itself, after all.

Saraphel gasped dramatically, feigning surprise. You protect the city, too, now? Last I’d heard, you just sat out in the farms.

There’d be no city without the farms, he replied as he turned his back. I do hope to hear from you soon, Sara…phel, Jen added while taking his first steps to leave. It’s always such a pleasure.

She glowered at his back as he left, then stalked over to the table Janice was at and sat down across from her, staring daggers at her client. The woman was wearing a loose white silk blouse and skirt, bearing the black fox head crest of her family over her left breast, and the worried look in her glassy blue eyes said that she had witnessed enough of the confrontation with Jen to know that the vampire sitting with her was not in a good mood. Saraphel waited until Janice worked up the nerve to open her mouth before interrupting with, We’d agreed to two.

The other woman could do nothing but stammer for a moment, her eyes wide with fear. Yes, two, she croaked out eventually. Did only one come?

One? Saraphel asked, sneering derisively. You think I’d come to collect if I’d only gotten one? She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a low whisper. I told you at the beginning not to try cheating me.

I…I don’t know what you mean! Janice said frantically, shifting as far back as her chair would allow. I arranged for two men to see you, I swear!

Then tell me why I had to deal with three.

I don’t know! Sweat began running down Janice’s face as she brought herself forward again. I honestly don’t know, Saraphel. Maybe they decided to bring a friend or something. I had nothing to do with it.

Saraphel let out a dismissive huff. Really? she said. I’ve got things all wrong? It’s not that you decided to surprise me in hopes of getting out of paying? Do you really think I’m that dumb?

Of course I don’t think you’re dumb! Janice replied. She patted at the air with her hands and struggled to make her voice sound less hysterical. I came to you because your clansmen said you’re the best. Why would–

I’m not in a clan, Saraphel interrupted. Clans are for humans. If you’re going to kiss my ass, you can at least not compare me to someone like yourself. I’m in a fucking brood. She pressed a finger over Janice’s lips when the other woman opened her mouth again, silencing her. I’ll find out for sure whether or not you sent a third after me, but regardless, the fact of the matter is that I took care of three lycanthropes for you. I demand to be paid accordingly. Understood? She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms, staring levelly at the human. Well?

Janice’s eyes darted from side to side between moments of almost meeting Saraphel’s gaze. Yes, I can understand that, she said slowly, but I can’t pay you for it right now. I only brought four whites, as we’d agreed.

Show me, ordered Saraphel.

The woman reached into a pocket, hidden by a loose fold of her blouse, and took out a small pouch, which she dropped on the table and pushed across. Saraphel stretched its mouth open and inverted it, spilling out four rough round diamonds, each about a quarter of an inch in diameter. She inspected each one carefully before putting them back into the pouch. This covers the first two. Bring two more by tomorrow night, unless you want me to take the difference out of your flesh.

I’ll pay! I’ll pay anything you want! Just give me a chance! Janice pleaded. The last thing I want is to have you mad at me. She wet her lips and asked, Is that all?

Saraphel shook her head. Since you offered so generously, I also want a red to cover some collateral damage. I know it’s not what we’d agreed to, but things changed with that extra one. It’s a bit less than the standard fee for a threesome, since I’ll trust that you didn’t mean for a third to be there, for now.

Looking like her heart had just jumped into her throat, Janice bobbed her head silently. Good. Then leave, Saraphel said, waving her off with one hand, before I decide to get greedy.

At that opportunity, Janice bolted to her feet and, after a quick bow and a muttered word of parting, walked away as quickly as she could without running.

Saraphel did not even bother to watch the woman leave. As she laced her fingers and glared off into the distance, her thoughts were occupied with Jen. The nerve of that bastard, accusing me of murder. As if I’d lower myself to killing farmhands. He’s just lucky that enough people depend on the farms to give him a free pass anywhere he wants to go. She silently sighed. I would’ve ripped out his throat on the spot four centuries ago. After making him kneel down and beg for mercy. Then again, that pompous prick should be grateful to get that much attention from me.

Saraphel? someone said politely.

And the nerve of him to act like I’ll go hopping along to his whims, as if he holds some kind of power over me. It seems like every time our paths cross, I leave swearing I’ll teach him respect, only to push that aside to deal with more important things. But I’ll find time for him, one of these days, and when I do, he’ll be wishing that I’d simply killed him. I’m not going to let some Blightfist punk get away with trying to push me around. He’s just a kid, probably not even fifty, and he thinks he can intimidate me? I think it’s past time that I showed him how to bully a vampire.

Saraphel?

What kind of vampire would dedicate himself to being a city guard, anyway? As if he only feeds on what comes out of the farms. He probably killed his friend himself and just wants to put the blame on me because he made the mistake of joining such a weak brood. Or maybe he can’t stand the sight of someone so beautiful who doesn’t care enough about him to piss on his grave once he’s dead.

The caller nudged her shoulder, and that contact set her off immediately. She leapt to her feet, kicking back the chair to buy time to for her to turn around, her glaive gliding free of its sling and into her hands. Moving with deadly grace, she swept low with the shaft of her weapon, tripping her assailant. She followed that fluidly by turning over her glaive and bringing it down, stopping with the edge of its blade mere inches away from the face of a man she had never seen before. Who are you? she demanded, practically growling from the anger that was as much from her mental soliloquy as from being touched unexpectedly.

Forcing a nervous smile to his face, the man raised his hands to show his bound wrists. Shit, Saraphel muttered as she replaced her weapon and offered a helping hand. I guess this’ll hurt my pay, won’t it?

The thought did cross my mind, her new client replied dryly in an almost childlike voice. He was a short man, his eyes coming no higher than Saraphel’s bosom when he got back to his feet. Strawberry blonde shoulder-length hair made his pale skin seem even more lacking in color, the longer strands of it tucked into a black felt choker. His thin neck and arms hardly made him look dangerous, but the cold light in his jade eyes and the way his full-length midnight blue wool cloak hid most of his body nearly left Saraphel wary. Nearly, except that she doubted anyone would be dumb enough to try attacking her while surrounded by other members of the Stormraiser Brood. His thin lips curled at their corners into a smile without a drop of warmth. If you’re worth as much as I’ve heard, though, I’m willing to overlook this…misunderstanding. If you would please…? he added, motioning at the toppled chair before moving to sit in the other one.

Saraphel righted the chair and sat down, crossing her legs casually to make her shorts slip higher up her shapely thighs. She doubted he could see the difference because of the table, but she liked to have any advantages she could get. Let me apologize before we start, she said, flashing a smile. I had to deal with a couple of individuals who aren’t exactly among my favorites, and it left me a bit wound up. She leaned forward against the tabletop, pretending it was just so that their eyes would be level. You understand, I hope.

Quite well, he responded, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Besides, all experts are allowed some…freedoms. You’re a veteran from the Race Wars, I’ve heard.

Saraphel blinked twice before answering, I lived through the last century or so of it, yes. Pardon my surprise, but it’s odd to find a mortal who knows much more than that it happened. Some of them don’t even believe that much anymore, she added with a derisive laugh.

The client shared in the laughter, though as coldly as he smiled. I guess you could call me something of a historian. Oh, but I’m not being very couth, am I? My name is Austin. Austin Davis.

Saraphel Delaine, she replied, though I’m guessing you already knew that. Just like I’m sure you know there’s no Weaving allowed in here.

Austin put on a wry smile. What makes you so sure I’m human?

She reached out and ran her fingers around his jawline, letting her fingertips just brush against his lips in the process. You breathe too much to be a vampire. Her hand continued around to the back of his neck, which she clasped and used to pull him closer, lifting him partially out of his chair, so that his ear was next to her mouth. After taking a deep inhale, she whispered, And you smell too good to be a lycanthrope. She eased him back into his chair. Satisfied?

Austin swallowed and licked his lips before he could resume his cool demeanor. Your methods are…intriguing.

Saraphel smiled teasingly, trailing her fingers across his cheek as she withdrew her hand. If you want to see more, you’re welcome to see me at The Coven of Dreams. Well, if you can afford it. No offense meant, but my time isn’t cheap. Oh, you do know you’re running up a bill just by talking to me now, right?

He smiled again, showing a hint of light in his eyes this time. I heard about you from a friend who visits your other place of business, so I know I could see you there. And yes, your receptionist told me about your counseling charges. He withdrew his hands into his cloak momentarily before placing a diamond on the table. I haven’t been keeping track of how long this is taking, but that should cover it, right?

She tilted her face downwards as she examined the stone, as much out of her greedy interest in it as to give Austin an opportunity to look down her camisole freely. Yes, this should cover it, she said eventually, placing the diamond in the pouch containing Janice’s payment before facing him again. It could cover a bit more, too. What are you really here to see me for, Austin? she asked, putting a smoky emphasis on his name.

He shifted forward, standing up enough to nearly meet her face to face in the middle of the table. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he asked, How well can I trust you to keep a secret?

Saraphel stoked his arm idly as she answered, If you keep paying me enough, I could keep your right nut secret from your left. He swallowed again at that comment, and she took the opening to add, I’m just curious about what you want from me, that’s all. You’ve got to tell me what you want so that I can give it to you, after all. I can promise you that I’ll do my part to keep this conversation from ever leaving this table.

There’s another white in it for you to keep your lips sealed about my three reasons for coming here tonight, said Austin. As he blinked, his expression changed back to being cold again. First, I happen to be having someone killed right now, and you’re a convenient alibi to have.

I like smart men, she interrupted, especially when they’re also willing to pay almost what I’m worth.

I’m willing to pay you quite a bit more than I’ve already committed, he continued. "I have quite a lot of resources, and I’m not reluctant to use them in worthwhile ways. Working in an unorthodox field brings certain advantages.

Unfortunately, it also brings certain complications, which brings me to my second reason for seeing you. I’d thought that the person I’ve been hiring to take care of things for me was human, but he turned out to be a mutant. It’s troublesome enough to be dealing with someone banned from the city in and of itself, but if I went to the guards about it, my involvement with him might become more public than I’d like. I’m sure you can see why your discretion in this matter is so important.

Saraphel laughed softly and caressed his cheeks. My dear Austin, if you keep going on like this, I might end up falling in love. Killing mutants is something I’d do just for the fun of it. If you’re paying me on top of it, I’ll carve him up however you want. She smiled as she continued, I’m good at making sure people are punished as much as they deserve.

Austin’s face shifted to its warmer version. More than they deserve, from what my friend’s told me about you. Although, I guess the punishment you give to your clients at your other workplace isn’t really the same thing.

There’s more overlap than you might think. Sometimes it seems like the only real difference is that when I’m there, whoever I’m working on usually lives through it.

Really…? he muttered, blushing slightly. That makes things interesting. We’ll work out the details of the killing together, right?

As long as I’m happy with the final plan, she replied, nodding.

I might want to watch, then, if I can find a safe way to do it. That’ll be something for another night, though. For now, I don’t want to go any further than getting acquainted. Austin stood up fully and placed another diamond on the table. For your secrecy.

Saraphel reached out and grabbed his hand as he started to turn away. Wait. You haven’t told me the third reason for seeing me.

He smiled at her bashfully. I like to look at beautiful things.

Two

Watching Austin leave, Saraphel added the last diamond to the pouch and bounced it in her hand a couple of times. Six whites here, plus the three reds from those death-sentenced furries. It’s been a productive night. Rising, she gave the pouch one more toss before snatching it out of the air and striding over to the receptionist. He was in the middle of speaking with another member of the brood, but she pushed that vampire aside and slapped the countertop. We need to talk, she said to the receptionist before casting a glare at the third vampire that wilted his tongue before he could get a word out. Once she felt sure that he would remain silent, Saraphel turned back to the receptionist and added, Now.

Of course, Saraphel, he said as he put down his pen and corked his ink bottle. Logan, would you mind watching things for a minute? Just keep track of who comes and goes. The third vampire nodded while glancing nervously at Saraphel, who seemed to be bristling with barely-contained anger. Good, the receptionist said calmly, seemingly oblivious to any tension. He motioned towards the small door behind him. After you, Saraphel.

Hiding a smile from Logan, she marched over to the door, threw it open, and ducked out of view immediately so that she could clasp her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter. It was a narrow room, hardly wide enough for two people standing shoulder-to-shoulder, with its length slightly more than triple its width. One wall was covered in pigeon hole shelving with all of the compartments filled with various documents, a heavy safe sat on the floor next to the door, and a simple wooden table cut across the room, butting against towers of shelving in either far corner and leaving just enough room for a chair between it and the wall. Saraphel hopped over the table and sat in the chair, propping her boots on top of the table just as the receptionist entered and closed the door. You are incorrigible, you know, he said, shaking his head but failing to keep an amused grin from his face.

I don’t like having to wait, she replied.

Nobody does.

Then you can hardly blame me for doing something about it, said Saraphel with a shrug. Besides, don’t you think that I shouldn’t be made to wait?

The receptionist chuckled softly as he sat down in the room’s other chair. I’m hardly fit to form an unbiased opinion on that. Now, before we get into what it is you want to speak to me about, there is the matter of the brood’s share of your pay.

Saraphel opened the pouch she was holding and dumped its contents onto the table unceremoniously. Six whites. She pushed one of the diamonds towards him. I’ll keep five.

Six whites, which makes sixty greens, he muttered, writing out the numbers on the palm of his left hand with his right index finger, and you are giving me ten, so that means you are owed four greens.

Keep the difference, she said as she put the other five diamonds back into the pouch and tied shut the drawstrings. Or better yet, count it as a bribe. I want some information.

The receptionist arched up an eyebrow. On?

The man who just came to see me. Austin Davis, or so he called himself, anyway. He’s rich, and I’ve never heard of him, and I don’t really like it when those two things happen. Saraphel grinned in a predatory way. "It makes