Blood Crazed

1. The Assignment

Chapter 1

The Assignment

The Present

I loved Manhattan. If I could choose one place in the world to live, it’d be Ninety-First Street between West End and Broadway. My favorite street to stroll. I especially loved spring with the towering cherry blossom trees swaying in the gentle breeze, scattering its pleasant perfume, shading the majestic brownstones, row after row. It stole my breath every time.

Owning one of these lovely rowhouses with its impressive curb appeal would be a dream come true. I imagined myself sitting by the bay window sipping tea on a lazy Sunday watching people stroll by.

Every day I’d make a stop at my favorite shop, the Levine Bakery, for a delicious sweet roll and hot coffee. Maybe have lunch at my favorite eatery, Café Bee. They had the best pancakes.

One of the many great perks of the city was easy access to the sights throughout the five boroughs riding the Transit. Or taking a lazy walk, enjoying the view, to a popular restaurant? There was so much to choose from.

Inspiration abounds from all corners of Manhattan: art galleries, Central Park, theatre, and ballet. The city was alive and never rested.

I belonged here among people from all walks of life. No one seemed to notice anyone. They carried on with their daily lives, closed off with their own troubles. No one saw me. Alone, with only my thoughts to keep me company, I walked the streets, passing strangers, ate the food, and fed the pigeons like any other typical New Yorker, continuing to be invisible, going unnoticed, unseen. I lived like a ghost. No one knew me or my secret.

No matter how hard I tried to fade into the crowd, my secret clung to me like an infectious disease. One day, my fate would come and force me to face my demise. I felt it in my bones. But for now, I carried on. Did my job and kept my opinions to myself.

Just as I slipped the key through the door, my cell blasted its silly ringtone, Manamana. Stupid. But it made me laugh. Hands full of two grocery sacks, I didn’t bother to look. Other than the occasional wrong number, John was the only person on my contact list. John, my handler, insisted I stay invisible, fading into the pedestrian traffic. Dress like the common folk heading to work. Blend. Never stand out.

It was a challenge to fade into the crowd with my bright ginger hair. My handler insisted I use hair color, mousey brown. That was the one time that I’d put my foot down. He could’ve shot me for my defiance, but I didn’t care. I asked for only one thing—my hair color.

To most, my imposition might’ve seemed inane. My hair was the only thing I owned. I’d never been given a recorded name, no birth certificate, no proof I existed. My identity was zero. I walked among humans, faceless. So John compromised. I wore hats.

I made a mad dash to dig my phone out of my oversize bag as I stepped inside my house. The brush of warmth rushed over me. I inhaled the soothing heat. I’d forgotten my coat this morning. The whole walk home, a stiff breeze coasted up my thin, cotton blouse, and my hands were stiff and numb. I didn’t realize how chilly Manhattan was in spring.

My stay here was only temporary. It was a shame too. I loved this beautiful brownstone that John had provided for me. The deep mahogany wood floors, bay windows, a turn of the century marbled fireplace, along with an impressive matching staircase leading to three bedrooms, was more house than I’d ever use. But the idea of filling it with family was a notion that I didn’t dare dwell on. In my line of work, family would not be doable.

It was always the same story. Never staying in one place long. Once I completed an assignment, I headed off to the next.

I supposed I was lucky. I never wanted for anything. John looked after me, taking care of the arrangements while instructing me of my duties.

I covered the V-Files. Many folks knew nothing about the existence of vampires other than film or fictional books. Little did the general consensus know the truth. Whenever an infestation arose, the Society sent me in to exterminate.

I’d just finished a job and thought I’d celebrate tonight with a special dinner and a glass of my favorite red wine, Carneros Pinot Noir.

“Ah!” I found my phone at the bottom of my bag, hidden under several items. I knocked my lipstick and billfold out of the way and dug my fingers around the phone. Swiping the green button to answer, I barked. “God! What now?” John never called for personal reasons. All business and no sense of humor.

“Must you always be so snappy?”

Holding the phone with my chin pressed against my shoulder, hands full of groceries, I used my foot to kick the door shut and made my way into the small galley kitchen. I mindlessly dropped the groceries on the counter and blew a long strand of hair out of my face. “Let me guess. You have another assignment for me.”

“Aren’t you on your game today? Now be a good girl and pack your things. I’ve already arranged for your flight. Your landlord, Ms. Wilson, is aware of your departure. By tomorrow, she won’t remember that you ever existed.”

“You mean erasing her memory? After flashing that little gismo in her face, the poor woman won’t remember her dog’s name. How can you do that to an innocent person and sleep at night? What about the long-term effect?”

“Your landlord doesn’t have a dog,” he said drily.

“That’s not my point.”

“Out of bounds. You’re out of bounds, Phoenix. You don’t get to complain or even have an opinion. You do your job. That’s all you should concern yourself with.”

“I know. I know. A slave has no rights, right? I’m to shut up and do my job and eat all my greens.”

“You’re lucky you have me for your handler. Anyone else would’ve had you dead in a manner of seconds.”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m a lucky girl, all right. I carry an implant inside my body that has enough g*n powder to blow up the whole block if I so much as veer down the wrong street. Up in smoke in a matter of seconds.” Anger coursed through me. “I get it. You and the Society have me on a tight leash.”

“I don’t make the rules, Phoen. I only enforce them.”

I rolled my eyes. “There are times I hate you.”

“Yes, but I am the only caretaker you have.”

My appetite suddenly vanished, and cynicism stepped in its place. I reached inside one of the grocery sacks, pulled out a steak wrapped in white paper and dropped it into the trashcan. I listened to the loud thud as it landed. I’d been drooling over that juicy steak and looking forward to watching a mindless movie tonight. Just a little quiet. No-fuss, no-muss, and no interruptions. I should’ve known better. I huffed out a long breath. “What’s my assignment?” Ire churned in my voice. I didn’t care if John heard my frustration. He was a stone wall when it came to my feelings anyway. Considering my needs was like a Tupperware party. It didn’t interest him.

“Your plane ticket is in your coat pocket hanging in the closet. You have a midnight flight heading to DFW Airport. From there, there will be a gentleman waiting for you holding an envelope with money and the keys to a Harley, candy apple red. You’ll leave from there and head southeast to Witch Haven, Louisiana.”

I grabbed the wine bottle out of the sack and stared at it longingly. “Never heard of the town.”

“It’s a quaint little Podunk town overrun with supernatural activity. It’s become conspicuous. Too many people are disappearing. I want you to handle it.”

“What’s my cover?”

“You are a divorced woman, setting up a pub. Your living space is above the joint. I think you’ll fit in just fine with your charm.”

“Ha, ha! Funny guy.” People kept their distance from me. Not sure if it was the vibe I seemed to put out, but folks often kept on the opposite side of the street whenever they saw me coming. Maybe it was the constant sneer on my face. I generally didn’t speak much. Less words, less explaining, less folks prying into my affairs. It was a safety precaution. Not for me but if the Society or best known as the Illuminati, discovered someone knew about their precious contrivances, he’d be dead before the sun rose the next morning.

“I hope you can handle your liquor,” sarcasm rolled off John’s tongue. “I want you to play the role of a tough biker chick that likes to party and drink. Pump up the attitude. That should be easy for you. Don’t bother packing much. I got that handled but do bring your stake collection.”

“I never leave the house without it,” I frowned.

“I taught you well, Phoenix Brown. Make me proud.”

Dread began to seep through my veins. Slaying vampires had become redundant to me. A job I once relished in, but now I’d grown tired of it. I’d rather stay here in the city, maybe catch Broadway. “Isn’t there another type of mission you could send me on? What about a Russian spy turned fanger?”

“This is nothing you can’t handle. You were born for this kind of work.”

“Who inquired of my services?” I supposed it would be a good idea to know the person I’d be reporting to. Though, after all the years I’d spent slaying monsters, the faces of those that had requested my services blurred together. The hires were all shady. A lot of them were connected to the Society. Some were mad scientists with Frankenstein-like experiments that had gone wrong. My favorite was assisting an old lady that had a vampire tied and gagged in her cellar.

Come to find out, the frail woman that walked with a cane was a witch and used some of his blood for a potion. Could you believe she was trying to restore her youth? I laughed until I nearly peed in my pants. She failed miserably and needed me to stake the fanger. Her magic couldn’t kill him. The poor fellow had been stripped down to the buff and half-starved. I didn’t dare ask why the fanger was n***d.

John cleared his throat, grabbing my attention. “It’s two brothers, Hernando and Damián De Soto. They’re a bit strange, but both are equally determined to keep the locals safe. Plan to be working closely with the brothers. They are expecting the murders to be resolved promptly.”

“This job is gonna be the death of me. What will you do then?”

“Phoen, you can’t die. You’re immortal.” My cell suddenly went black. I sighed heavily. Glad someone has confidence in me. Taking on a couple of vampires was a cakewalk, but an entire town, I wasn’t so sure.

If I were a free woman, I’d stay right here and live in this brownstone. Easier said than done. I didn’t have a driver’s license, no social security number, no bank account. I was a young woman. I assumed somewhere around twenty-two. And I was lost in a sea of faceless people. I could become anyone but never belong to myself.

I was a slave.

For my entire childhood, I lived in a cage. The Society tried to disguise it as a regular girl’s bedroom, a princess bed, dolls, and pretty pink dresses with lots of pink bows. But I was locked away from the world, deprived of an ordinary life. I could never indulge in silliness such as playdays with other children my age. My schooling was held in a military building under heavy guard. John Ford tutored me. He taught me everything: calculus, English, history, French, Italian and proper manners but mostly how to fight.

I excelled in self-defense. Weaponry was my specialty. I lived up to my species … a supersoldier.