I arrived in the Palouse area of Washington and checked in at the safe house ready to bring the master of Coven Forty-Eight to justice. He'd be an awful monster, I was sure, and though he'd appear lovelier than any mortal man, the evil of his kind would reflect in his lifeless gaze. I'd hate every second of pretending to be interested in the beast. The operation would require all of my self-control not to terminate him on sight.

Through every subsequent meeting with the CIA--Agent Dickhead not present since he was on assignment in Tunisia, as the agents I met with advised though I didn't ask--I was introduced to more influential traffickers through their DEA connections. The local drug lords of Spokane came to know me as Tatiana Montenegro, an American intelligence agent with access to poppy farms in Central Asia trying to make a deal.

I told the criminals I was tracking dangerous militia in overseas and had no interest in their local affairs. Depending on the quality of their information, I could make the right contacts legally rich while they helped defend our country. Sounded almost noble when I put it to the dope dealers that way. I hoped they cared about gaining a notable reputation, even if it was more for ego and cash than any positive intent.

Three months of dogged persistence passed where I built trust through repeated trades with those lower rungs of dealers. I provided generous free samples to all the local lords, sometimes as often as three to four times a week with hints of my lucrative bargain. Eventually, once I’d handed over a couple acres worth of opium poppies for free, I was granted the privilege of presenting to the actual men in charge. That led to a big push in the mission.

One of the more notorious kingpins invited me to a warehouse to deliver my largest shipment yet. After I transferred five hundred pounds of raw opium in the dead of night, I'd pleased him enough to win an opportunity to pitch to the chief--via a proxy, of course.

"No one from the gutter talks to the chief," hissed a contact who'd called me from a blocked number. "Especially not some stupid CIA bitch who can be dead if I wish it. You'd be takin' cock in every hole if you didn't have flower to drop. Bitches like you get turned out just for the privilege of an opportunity."

"I understand," I replied. "Thank you. I have the greatest respect for Kan'ek on a personal level. He's...fascinating."

"Fascinating, huh? Just wait for the call, puta."

The contact hung up. A couple of weeks later, I finally received the transfer details for my offer to the chief, and prepared my first package, a sample of prepared high quality morphine base along with a vial of fortified blood to signal that I knew what he was. I cushioned the gift in a bed of pink poppy flower petals, a feminine touch in turn to signal what I was.

His inner circle accepted the offer and, over time, authorized further transactions. A lieutenant called Cullen sent me a handwritten thank-you note through the lower ranks. The folded note arrived sealed with wax and stamped with the master's insignia, a double-headed serpent coiled around a foreign marking. The agency identified it as an ancient Mayan glyph--most likely an homage to the chief's heritage and the source of the title he used, K'anek. At the very least, it confirmed the identity of the man I pursued.

Another month of similar exchanges passed several times a week before I received a direct phone call from Cullen to thank me for my continued gifts. He also wanted to confirm that I was, in fact, a human female fighting to get the master's attention.

"The chief is aware of your presence," he said.

"That's good."

"We'll see."

On the third personal call from Cullen I learned that the master had agreed to meet with me on the condition that I come alone. He was interested in what I was offering, somewhat, though I knew I'd have to play hard to get once we physically met. Coming on too strong would raise additional suspicion on why a CIA agent was so anxious to meet with him. Besides that, the thought was distasteful.

The admiral, notified of my quick progress, congratulated me on my drive for success with a rare personal call.

"Confirm his location, hunter," he said. "We're ready to receive your direction. Let's get this thing done."

"Affirmative, sir."

The chief's contacts directed me to check in at a motel in Davenport for my first visit where I was told to leave my vehicle in the facility's parking lot. The room the clerk led me to was cramped and looked unclean, so I sat on the corner of the bed instead of interacting with anything inside. I spent the wait meditating, slowing my body and mind into the regenerative half-sleep that activated my advanced genetics for recovery. Thankfully, less than an hour later, an unknown number called for me to come outside.

A masked contact stood beside an unmarked black van concealed in the shadows under a tree. As soon as I approached him, armed men hidden inside the truck flung the back doors open and dragged me inside. I was taken so fast, I didn’t make a sound.

They blinded me by jamming a sack over my head. My arms were cuffed behind my back as the men jerked me around, patting me down rough and confiscating the dossier of documents I'd planned to present to the chief, along with my small handbag and my cell. My nerves spiked high at the sudden loss of control, since dealing with anything cartel meant absolutely everything could go wrong at any time. I'd never know what I did wrong, either--I'd just be shit out of luck.

I used centering exercises to keep my mind level as we traveled. They'd reduced my mobility and I'd lost a significant amount of control in the situation, but I was ready to fight if anything went an unexpected way.

The contacts drove using a long, winding route meant to confuse me so I couldn't mentally track our turns. After more than an hour, we arrived at our destination, and I was herded inside where the men patted me down a second time. The restraints were removed after, and I could finally see the interior of the chief's mansion when the sack was untied.

Wealth gleamed at me from every corner and shone in the subtle gold gilding on the handrails of the grand staircase to the ornate Persian carpet crushed underneath my heels. My anger for Duncan and all of the victims of Coven Forty-Eight bubbled at the sight of the master's fortune won from a dedication to suffering and death.

I was led to a foyer where a guard directed me to wait until the master summoned me. I settled into a plush armchair and studied the room around me hyper-alert, trying not to seem too blatant about looking for clues. Repetitive thuds against tile caught my attention and I looked to the side, scanning the area for the source of the noise. A young girl, about nine or ten, came limping toward me dragging a life-sized doll by the hair.

The girl moved like she'd suffered a major injury that never healed right, her knees knocking and hips crooked as her red head bobbed in tandem with her unsteady movements. Her doll fell from her grasp to the carpet, and its gouged-out eyes pointed up at me from a cracked, stained head. Black eyes and sharp teeth hovered close to my face. I kept still as the girl sniffed me.

"Hi there." I looked at her through the corner of my eye. "What a pretty girl you are. Bet you have a pretty name, too."

"You're stupid," she hissed, her words lisping through fangs that still seemed foreign to her. She plopped onto another chair in the waiting area and glared. "And ugly. I don't like your red mouth. I wish you were dead."

"All right." I tried smiling. "Pleasure's mine, I guess."

Her face screwed into a frown. "Master said not to bite you, but that's not fair. He's mean when he doesn't give me my way. I'm mad at him now."

"I want to be your master's friend," I said. "I can be your friend, too. Just can't let you feed on me. How does that sound?"

She snarled words in a vampiric tongue that communicated through multiple micro-frequencies no mortal could understand, at least not without the agency's COM technology providing approximate translation. I didn't have the COM band to activate that function, and I wouldn't have brought it either, not with so many skilled vampires surrounding me. Judging by the girl's reaction, the answer seemed to be 'No' anyway.

Her staring game bored her partway through the two hour long wait and she slid out of her chair, grabbing her doll with a pout. I watched her skinny, hunched figure disappear down a dim hallway with the doll rattling on the ground behind her. My steady patience was rewarded when a pair of the chief's men arrived to escort me directly to the master's private lounge.

Kan’ek was playing pool with a second vampire when I arrived, a black-eyed man who I supposed was Cullen, his trusted right-hand man. I paused at the door as it was shut behind me and quickly surveyed the study, finding an expansive room lined with mahogany bookcases and fine artistic sculptures. My nose pricked at the smell of polished wood and faint, coppery scents of blood emanating from somewhere unseen. Along the back wall hung a massive painted portrait of a smiling brown-skinned girl dressed in animal skin with tribal dress, wide-eyed with innocent youth. Her gaze seemed to follow as I approached the table. I stopped when I was a short distance from the pair.

"Kan'ek," I said. "Mr. Cullen, I presume." I waited for them to confirm and when it was clear they wouldn't, I continued. "I'm Special Agent Tatiana Montenegro. We've made contact before regarding a possible partnership. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

They continued playing without acknowledging me. I took the opportunity to study my target, finding him more human and real than I first expected. He'd been an athletic man in his mid-thirties at the time of his first death, young-looking but carrying an air of distant maturity. His long, dark hair that hung loose and past his broad shoulders and framed a regal face.

He exuded immortal beauty to an almost painful degree. Every movement of his body seemed to gleam with extraordinary presence, an effect difficult to look away from for someone unused to supernatural glamour. Under the warm interior light, his tawny complexion looked almost alive.

The chief called his shot--8 ball corner pocket--and it was good. He'd won the game. His teeth were straight and his eyes were a dark, intelligent brown.

"Do you play pool, little flower?" He spoke to me at last, rising to full height to hand his cue stick to the vampire beside him. "You seem like the type."

He scanned me from head to toe with a slight nod and rubbed his jaw as he commented to his partner in tongue. They both shared a laugh, probably about me. I held the dossier close to my chest, raising my chin to reply.

"Sometimes I play, Kan'ek. But I don't want to right now. Let's get to business. Please."

"Hm." The unblinking gaze returned to my own. "I never invited you to play, Ms. Montenegro. Only asked if you did." He wagged a finger. "You're presumptuous. You've got an ego."

I glanced at the second vampire walking toward the center of the study. Tattoos scrawled on the lieutenant's face indicated he'd been a hitman for his gang, murdering humans in gruesome ways before his turn to vampirism. A trail of dead bodies was regular business for an assassin, and I logged the markings as another clue. I wasn't afraid, but I was informed, more certain than ever that I was on the right track.

"I apologize for my ego," I said. "I'm working on it."

The master chuckled. "Humility. You're a fast learner. That's good. Let's get to that business you're so eager to start."

"I'd like that."

"Good. Take off your clothes."

I paused and stared. "Excuse me?"

"Leave your belongings in a pile. Bend over the table and spread your legs. Reach back and spread yourself. I'll see if I'm interested."

"You're not serious."

"Are you a shy whore? How tiring."

"I'm not a whore at all."

"You're one of those types. You like playing games with men’s patience." Visible boredom glazed his expression. "Well, your act's a success since my temper's already wearing thin. Make sure you're worth the attention I've shown you so far or you'll be out much faster than you came. My time, though endless, is valuable."

I dropped my arms to my sides and laughed. Not even a minute into the interaction and we were already at the worst possible scenario.

"That's not going to happen, Chief. Let's try something else."

The master looked me over once more without reaction. Nondescript humor creased his face.

"You're dressed like a man. Trousers straight and wide with pads in the shoulders, hair tied so tight your features cry for relief. A smile might crack you to pieces. Your presentation--your attitude--is low on appeal. I'm surprised you thought you could impress me with so little."

"My appeal is in these documents." I tapped my fingers on the dossier I held against my chest. "Not my outfit. I'm sure what's inside will impress you more than I ever can."

"Ah." He nodded. "You made a little report and included photos, too. Worked hard on your arts and craft project and now you want to bore me with it. You demand I take you seriously because you came here in your designer business costume." He settled into a cushioned leather chair and tented his fingers over his mouth. "I don't take you seriously. At all."

"Weren't you briefed on the nature of my visit?"

"I was briefed."

"And?"

"I don't partner with humans. They're beneath me."

"Great. Why the hell did you invite me here?"

"You called me fascinating. I haven't fucked an agent in quite some time. The blood of desperate females always entices me." He looked me over from head to toe again. "Small breasts--no more than a B--with shapely legs and a round, bitable ass. Strong muscle tone, tired eyes--you work out often, but smoke many cigarettes. You probably live alone and spend a lot of time that way. A shame you won't show me your better parts without all this work."

"She's all right," muttered Cullen, eyeing me with hunger.

"She might be. We'll see how she behaves. The game's just begun." Humor flickered as the master hunted for reaction from me, his curled lips hidden behind his hands. "Mr. Cullen will draw a fluid sample from you to test for active substances. If you're clean, we'll start the feeding ritual and I'll take you as I please. I might heal fully in three days, but I'd rather not feel ill because you like to skim off the top." The master's head nudged toward Cullen. "He'll fuck you when I'm through, but he doesn't care about quality as much. Not so picky."

Breathe in, breathe out. I felt unseen waves of influence nudging my mind and body to obey like a mindless idiot. The master was attempting to use supernatural abilities to get me to follow his silly commands. Through the COM bud I heard low, almost inaudible static. Anger burned inside though I wouldn't show it. My grip on the dossier tightened as I moved closer to a man I had every right to terminate.

"Listen." I spoke through clenched teeth. "You're the one wasting time. I've got plenty of other distributors I can approach with this. You can explain to your men why you turned down the deal of a fucking lifetime--three thousand kilos of hassle-free opium every time our ships arrive to port--"

"Three thousand kilos?"

Cullen interjected out of turn. I turned my focus onto the weaker of the pair.

"Yes," I continued. "For starters. You want to grow? I can make you grow--in a better way. A way that lasts."

"Talk."

I nodded. "Our poppy farmers grow under top-secret protection from the CIA and partners. If you get us tangible results from the sales of the product we supply you, and you catalog and report who gets pissed off by your good fortune and who causes trouble--you'll help us rustle up the locations of heads from our most wanted lists. After we see this is working, we can discuss a longer-term relationship."

"So, this is all for what--to catch a bunch of goatfuckers hiding in the middle of the desert?"

"Goatfuckers with bombs, power, and connections. A thirst for infidel blood and world domination. It's inevitable that their organizations will bring their war right to our streets. They started years ago and made the region a hotbed of instability. You see what just happened in New York City--devastation and thousands dead. I don't need to tell you that's bad for everyone's business. Imagine all that new heat on your supply lines."

Cullen turned toward the master. They exchanged more of their hissing tongue, and the master gave him a short nod. He snatched the folder out of my grip, flipping through the pages inside.

"Shit." Cullen's eyes stretched wider. "What kind of cut are you looking for?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. This right here...you're saying we can take over the damn empire by next year. We'd be top dog in Washington and beyond. Nobody will see it coming. They'll wonder what hit 'em when there's a total drought leaving them sitting on product that won't move. That's because everyone will be coming to us." Cullen chuckled to himself. "Liquidation sale, pendejo."

"Yes. It can get to that point. All your men will be wealthy. The CIA will consider the bounty you keep as yours and you'll have immunity while dealing that stash. The farmers are protected for helping us, we obtain intelligence that helps prevent another attack, and Coven Forty-Eight gets filthier rich with no threat of arrest." I folded my arms as Cullen pored over the details on the pages. "Check the contacts and the shipping routes. You'll find they're legit."

I stood straight-backed and waited for their assessment. The master remained calm, lowering his hands from his mouth down to his lap.

"You want me to set up my partners," he said. "Be a rat to the industry. It wont end with your targets overseas, if you’d be honest with both me and yourself. You'll circle back to tend to the rest of the underworld in your little crusade, maybe tip off your friends in other agencies who aren't part of this arrangement. You should include that betrayal in your paperwork."

"Call it that, if you want." I shrugged. "Betrayal. But if your partners would rather side with hostiles who aim to kill mass amounts of people worldwide just to undercut you, you won't have much of a customer base for your profit. How long can all this last?"

"It's lasted quite a while before you showed up."

"Right, but the world's changed in the meantime. I shouldn't have to remind you, of all people. There'll be measures taken that you can’t control. Your partners aren't looking out for your interests because they don’t care. They'd cut you out now if they could afford to." My voice lowered as I refused to break my gaze despite the undulating waves of influence the master was trying to impose on my resistance. "This would make a rat a lot of money, but you don't need money. Look at this place. This room alone--the price of someone's entire life. I'm offering something you can't buy with money."

"What's that?"

"Protected retirement. Freedom without fear."

The master chuckled. "Retirement has never been on my mind, Ms. Montenegro."

"But it's an option now. You've existed as a vampire for--how many years?"

"Two thousand."

"Two--" My mouth went dry and I cleared my throat. "Two thousand?"

"Yes."

The oldest vampire on agency record was eleven hundred years old, and that master was terminated long before I was born. We logged rumors of other advanced elders but never found tangible evidence in our hunts. This was...a major deal.

I collected myself without showing my surprise--or interest--continuing without missing a beat.

"All right, so two thousand years on this planet," I said. "You sell narcotics to mortal criminals. That means you work with humans in some capacity no matter how removed you keep yourself. Maybe you don't care about the people you hurt, but you do care about your name, or else you wouldn't make it so hard to reach you. It was a pain in the ass to get here, Kan'ek. It's a pain in the ass to be here, but I'm doing my job."

I took another step closer and kept his gaze. He watched me as well without moving.

"The drained bodies you left behind were sloppy for someone of your caliber. Embarrassing, even. Struck me as amateur and out of control. Nothing like the polished act you're putting on now."

"Drained bodies?" Genuine confusion flickered in his stare for a quick moment. "Is that how you found me?"

"Of course. You left an obvious trail. Why do you think I knew to send you that blood? You're typical--even a professional like yourself loses control at the smell of red. Sorry to be blunt, but it's true. Your animal side is your weakness as much as it’s your strength."

"Interesting. Listen to her speak. This woman believes she has me all figured out. How irritating. I'm not pleased with this one." He glanced at Cullen. "Were you aware, Lieutenant, that there was an obvious trail of corpses that led an American intelligence agency to our coven--to me, your master?"

Cullen glared at me before shaking his head at the master.

"Don't know what the hell she's talking about, Chief."

"I sincerely hope not. For your sake."

"Ain't any of my people. They know they better clean up after themselves or they'll deal with me. Maybe it was one of Lobo's gangs, or Tiburon's. They're growing under me and don't recruit the best. You get what you get."

"Well, Mr. Cullen," said the master. "I'm assigning you to find out who will be terminated in front of their followers. You want to rise, so solve this mystery. If you can't find an answer, the culprit will be you, and I'll dole the appropriate punishment in case I elevated you too quickly. Ms. Montenegro’s correct--the CIA's presence in my home is embarrassing. Now leave the documents with me."

"Yes, Master."

Cullen handed over the dossier and saluted, hurrying past me out of the study at the master's order. The master rose from his seat and I moved into his line of sight, placing my hands on my hips.

"You didn't know about those bodies. Hell, your people might not even be behind it. After all these years, it doesn't make sense either--you were never on our radar until this mess spilled over from overseas." I moved closer, pausing a few paces away from him. "Is there a rival coven in the area you're warring with? Maybe a small, inexperienced operation that's slipped under your radar? That's something I'd need to advise my employers about before we can proceed. Loose ends need to be tended to immediately."

"No," he snapped, the vampiric beast within him blackening his eyes. "I know every move that's made in Washington. This is my domain. Any vampire that crosses through here pays respect or is eliminated."

"This was a surprise. I can tell by your reaction. You don't know everything and that bothers you, but I can help. Not just with the flower, but with immortal enemies as well. My agency will eliminate anyone standing against you if you stand with us. We do that if it's mutually beneficial."

He swept past me, flinging the dossier onto the pool table in a mess of papers and photos. I followed his tall form as he walked through the bookcases toward the rear of the study. A frown formed on my face and I called out to him.

"What the hell? I just added value at no extra cost. That information was valuable to you. I know it, and I see it. You're aware of the price of that intelligence."

"I don't need help from the fucking CIA," he snapped. "Your agency's more trouble than it's worth. At least the criminals I deal with are honest in what they do."

"The CIA name is credible. You won't find a more solid partner."

"Credible to whom?"

"Everyone. The world."

"Everyone. The world." He mimed me in a mocking tone and turned to me with a sneer. "Not only are you a shy whore, you're also naive. Your handlers think I'm an idiot by sending you as seduction. I'll tell you what--I reject your offer, but I'll give you a prize if you're for sale. I’ll take your body and you won't leave empty handed after. I told you the position to take."

"Unbelievable. Please." I scoffed. "You exerted influence on me the moment I walked in here, trying to control my mind. Stop projecting your seduction crap. You're the only one interested."

"Influence." His sneer shifted to his quiet smile. "I never used influence on you, Ms. Montenegro. I don't use the ability for play. It's a parochial surrender that weakens the taste of the blood. I prefer to be invited with great desire. Maybe you're feeling desire for me."

"I...." A horrible heat flushed my face. I was glad I didn't have my stake with me because I would have went for the termination right there. "I'm referring to that request of yours. You tried to influence me to take off my clothes and present myself to you. Does that ever actually work for you, anyway?"

"Always."

"Always. Oh, well...okay. It didn't this time. I'm different from your regular visitors. I don't want anything except for you to listen."

"I've listened enough."

"The gifts I sent you were a tiny sample." I spoke low and quick, a race to deliver my message before he lost the last of his patience. "That’s the quality and range we can provide in endless supply. We can arrange voluntary victims, too. Plenty of humans fantasize about the bite in their deepest fantasies. They write stories about it, romantic, dirty--they film movies, wear fangs, and wish for your lifestyle to be their reality. If only they knew how real you guys are, right?"

"Finding willing victims is never an issue. Those that encounter me know quite well how real I am."

"I'm sure you don't have trouble on that end. I can imagine after all your time on this planet the kind of ties you've made. You're confident in your effect on human senses, but don't tell me that this lowbrow criminal lifestyle makes you happy. Not with all your immortal wisdom."

"Happy?" He smiled strangely. "I'll tell you what makes me happy--the taste of living blood spilling from the warm flesh of a trembling, wet woman. I'm happy often."

"Great. In two thousand years you've created a legacy of drug addicts, cheap thrills, and fangs. How far back does this party go? Two thousand years, hm…I suppose you were hustling Midnight Oil to Roman emperors even back then."

His dark gaze flashed for a moment, a reaction he failed to conceal. I hid my smile of satisfaction because I was right, and I’d gotten a direct hit.

"Countless lifetimes and here you are. Same shit. You say humans are beneath you, but your impulses are basic. Mortal. That's what I find interesting."

He closed the distance between in a single long stride with supernatural speed. I tensed, waiting for his reaction, and I couldn’t draw a weapon, which was always my first reaction when confronted that way. The master stayed impossible to read and, on my end, I had to admit I was doing a shit job of being a honeypot.

The tick of a grandfather clock somewhere nearby made the seconds that passed seem much longer than normal. I waited until finally the master spoke unperturbed.

"What type of food do you like?" His demeanor remained calm. "Fine human things, I'm sure. The best there is to offer. It's been so long for me. I can't make a recommendation."

"Why do you care?" I said, ready to shift into offense if needed.

"You'll have dinner with me. Tonight."

"Excuse me?"

"I have a world-renowned chef on premises that can prepare whatever you'd like in our kitchen. He can access the rarest of ingredients. Nothing’s limited." His fangs were now partially descended, glistening as he spoke. "Nothing."

I stifled a laugh. "You're the one with the ego, Kan’ek."

"Yes."

"Thanks for the offer." I shook my head. "Like I said, I'm here for business. I'm not interested in staying for any other reason."

"It's a business dinner," he said. "I recommend you get interested."

"You rejected my offer. Remember?"

"This is your second chance to convince me. Until Mr. Cullen returns, however, I won't discuss the matter further, though you may continue to plead your case. I'll keep your information in mind for when we meet again."

"So, you are going to bring me back."

"I promise."

"Timeframe?"

"No longer than one moon cycle."

"I can do that. But my clothes stay on. This isn't going to eventually lead to what you're used to. Please keep things professional."

"Fine. No seduction from you, Agent Montenegro, and no, ah...influence from me. Just a negotiation between two parties. You'll find that fair."

Something felt off about the request but I had to agree. This was my chance to make a crucial connection which would allow me to lead the master into a vulnerable position. I'd win vengeance for Duncan and get the job done as fast as possible, whatever the cost.

"All right," I said to the master. "Let's go."

He made arrangements through the mansion's intercom system and offered me his arm, escorting me out of the study. The dossier remained a pile of paperwork scattered on the pool table behind us.