Stake It or Leave it: A Paranormal Monster Romance

“I’ll be back in a few days,” I say into my phone as I stare at the stonework streaked with age and dirt. “I’ve sent over some dictation via the secure server, so if you can deal with that, and pull the Menzies-Smyth file along with the Robson file and chase up the Met for the disclosure, I’ll deal with the rest when I get back.”

If I get back.

My eyes trail away from the single bulb shedding a weak light down the filthy walls, across a similarly unpleasant floor which has a rug on it. One covered in stains I’m not going to think about.

“Yes, please give Mr. Howard an update, Carol,” I respond to my secretary who is super efficient as ever, even in my absence. “I know he’s annoying, but we have a hearing date. He will make a fuss, but there’s a letter in the dictation which will explain everything, so you can tell him it’s on its way.”

The chain leading from the rusty iron bedstead to the handcuff at my wrist clanks.

“Oh that?” I say hurriedly. “We’re just about to get on a boat. It’s a trip up the Danube.” I pause, keeping my hand as still as I can. “Yes, Budapest is beautiful.”

I raise my eyes to the window, painted black both inside and out, save for a few cracks in the paint. There’s no chance of me seeing any view.

“I will enjoy myself, thank you.” I force a smile to my face so it can be heard in my voice. “And I’ll see you on Friday.”

Or, most likely, I’ll be dead.

My secretary trills her goodbye. I will miss her. She’s wasted in my firm anyway. Hopefully she’ll leave and get a better job once I’m gone. One that actually pays her what she’s worth, rather than the pittance she gets.

Despite everything, I’ve been unable to get the partners at Holmwood, Seward & Quincey or HSQ as most people shorten the name, to give her a pay rise. It’s one of the many, many reasons I regularly clash with hierarchy. But then I didn’t become a solicitor and run all the way to London for work because I shied away from an argument.

I’d have continued to argue until they gave in. Unfortunately I won’t be able to, given I’m most likely going to be drained of blood by the end of the day and my body dumped in the pit reserved for victims of the vámpír.

I can’t see them wanting to turn one of their oldest enemies. My family has killed too many vamps for them to find keeping me alive even vaguely amusing.

My phone chimes with a text message. It looks like the group chat is waking up. Given I left my friends, save for the pregnant bride, Grace, wobbling back to their hotel rooms after a late-night session at the bar, I’m surprised anyone is awake yet.

But then the staying power of Lydia has always impressed me.

Lydia

What’s on the itinerary today?

Eliza

Do you mind? the room hasn’t stopped spinning yet.

Sophia

I warned you about the palinka

Lydia

You warned everyone about everything

Sophia

Was I wrong?

Kezia

Can you all stop typing so loud?

There is a chorus of emojis, mostly laughing faces and the occasional raised finger.

I don’t think I’ll be doing much today, got a headache.

Sophia

One of your migraines? I’m so sorry hun

I give her a thumbs up along with the thermometer in mouth emoji. I don’t want to lie to any of them, and yes, I know that’s rich coming from a lawyer, but they are my friends.

And it’s the reason I’ve been lying to them all for years. It keeps them safe, and having them as my friends keeps me sane. 

Fortunately, even though they’re in monster filled Budapest, they’re safe under the protection of the Kobór werewolf clan, given my friend Grace is married to their leader, Ferenc now.

I doubt his protection is going to extend to me, not anymore. Not given where I am and why I’m here.

A key rattles in the door to the room I’m being held in. It’s morning, and therefore daylight, but vamps have plenty of thralls to do their bidding during the hours they sleep.

The door swings open, and for a moment I think it’s Dominik Király, the vampire king I was hoping to kill, but then they move into the light or what passes for it. The man is tall, not quite as tall as Dominik, and thin, marking him out as a donor and a thrall.

“Ms. Van Helsing,” he intones.

Thralls don’t scare me. Vampires don’t scare me either. I’ve been trained my entire life to remain calm in their presence…so I can kill them. Even once all the monsters came out into the light (metaphorically in the case of the vamps) a few years ago, it didn’t matter to my family.

Our job was to kill them. And the killing wouldn’t stop because they stepped out of the shadows. Vampires are evil, dangerous creatures and no amount of memes or cute keyrings would convince the Van Helsings otherwise.

“It’s Cushing, actually,” I respond. “Lucy Cushing, and I will be missed.”

He snorts. “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t have come. Nothing hot-blooded leaves Ház Király alive.”

“Ooooh.” I give a mock shiver. “You almost made me scared.” I fix him with the stare I usually reserve for a difficult client or my opponent in court. “You’re going to have to try harder.”

“How about you’re going to be the personal meal for the king? And he likes to eat slowly.” He grins.

I roll my eyes.

“Heard it all before.” I study my nails on the non-handcuffed hand.

I’ve seen plenty in my thirty-three years on Earth. Not just the rising of the monsters from the shadows and into the light, but plenty no human woman should ever have seen.

He’s quiet for a beat, no doubt wondering what might frighten a Van Helsing. I might not bear the name, but the vampire hunting blood courses through my lineage. Passed down from mother to daughter. Just as I will pass it to my child.

The child currently growing inside me. The unborn baby which meant I should have said no to the family insisting I take out the Budapest vampire king while I visited my friend. The one and only thing I should be protecting.

But instead I bowed to the familial pressure and here I am.

Trapped and facing death by a thousand bites.

Or at least that’s what the vamps think. 

I have other ideas.

The vampire hunter in my nest is the least of my concerns as I stand over the vampire strapped to the ornate wrought iron chair.

Or that’s what I’m telling myself. Ever since Lucy came into my undead life, or possibly before, I haven’t been able to concentrate on what I should be dealing with. The traitor in my midst.

My brother.

And this young vamp, recently turned by Damek, could be the key to finally unravelling where he is and whether he really plans to unlock the vault.

“So”—I circle him slowly—“Damek is your sire?”

He glares at me with all the fierceness of youth. His ragged clothes show he was once in the gutter, but his pretty face tells me everything I need to know. Everything Damek saw in him.

“Damek told me you would torture me,” he spits, fangs protruding over ruby lips.

I drop onto the chair set in front of him and dip my head, cocking it to one side to pin him with a stare of my own, and for a second his eyes flare, my movement unexpected.

I put my hand on his knee, and he flinches, unable to help himself. I am far more superior, far more powerful. My presence should make him want to wither. But he rallies. Damek always knew how to pick his progeny. To make them in his own image. To make them as vicious and as daring as he was…still is.

I slide my hand up his thigh, leaning forwards, pushing out all the pheromones I can, ones which should be as close to Damek’s as those exuded by him. The young vamp shivers.

“That depends very much on what you want,” I purr. “If you like being tortured, then I might do it anyway. If you prefer a belly filled with a good, hot meal and a comfortable place to wait out the day, then I could offer you that too.”

I’m not sure when he last fed, and young vamps are always hungry.

The youngster licks his lips, his eyes flaring red for an instant.

I slowly withdraw my hand from his leg, lingering over the movement. All young vamps love the touch of an ancient like me.

It tells them their future.

Although this vamp’s future is limited. Damek can see through his eyes, and I can’t have that in my nest.

“Tell me where he is, and you can have both or the one of your choosing,” I add quietly.

“I…I…can’t tell you,” he blurts out. “Damek will…he will kill me.”

“But you’re dead already.”

“He will end me.” The young vamp shakes from head to foot.

His fear of my brother is greater than his fear of me. That will not do.

“Put him in the pit.” I stand up, pushing the chair back with a screech. “If he doesn’t give up the location of Damek in an hour, open it up.”

I turn my back on the young vamp, hearing his screams, his cries for mercy as I leave the room. He can shout all he wants. He had his chance, and he refused to see where it might have taken him.

I have a place for all those turned by my enemies.

His cries are cut off abruptly when the door closes behind me. I unclip my cape and sling it at one of my thralls.

“Where is she?”

“Where you asked us to put her, sir. In the tower cell,” he says, with a bow of his head.

I have attempted to modernize my operation. Many of my progeny, and those who are bound to Ház Király, have been more than happy to move with the times. It gets boring being stuck in a coffin without Netflix after all, but the thralls? They’re still stuck in the Sixteenth century. Eighteenth if I’m lucky.

Most of the time, I am not lucky.

Another thrall comes panting around the corner and struggles not to run straight into me, his arms windmilling and his feet attempting to run backwards.

I catch him with an outstretched hand around his neck.

“My king,” he begins.

“Cut the crap. What is it?” I growl.

“The human female.” He stares at me, his eyes agog.

“Yes. What about her?”

“She was in the tower cell.”

“I know that.” My patience is wearing increasingly thin. “What about her?” I bare my fangs, although for a thrall, this only excites them further.

“She…she…” He pants, his words strangled.

I let him go. He clutches at his neck with an expression of extreme pleasure.

“What about the human?” I repeat slower, putting menace into every single word.

“She’s escaped,” he finally says. “She’s loose in the nest.”

Why do vampires always have to have such complicated buildings, or nests, as they prefer to call them?

I turn left, then left again given I’m looking for a way down to the ground level. If I keep going left, I will have to find a staircase eventually.

While the vamps will merrily turn into mist, or bats, or whatever creature their sire turned into in order to get in or out of rooms and buildings, the thralls they keep to do their dirty work and to attend them during daylight hours can’t do any such thing. As such, they need stairs/lifts and lights, meaning, lucky for me, there are low level lights on in these dark corridors.

I move as quietly as I can, the floors being sumptuously carpeted and making it easy enough. I have the chain from my bonds gripped tightly in my hand to avoid it making any noise. The set of snips in my boot, either ignored or missed by the thralls who searched me when Dominik discovered me about to stake him, made easy work of it. Once I’m finally free I’ll deal with the rest.

And the thrall who thought he was all that…discovered exactly what sort of skills are instilled into a Van Helsing from practically birth. He will wake up with a sore head and with the wrath of his master about to rain down on him.

But thralls like that sort of thing, so I’ve probably done him a favor. 

What I haven’t done is find a way out. I tried to memorize the floor plan of the building near the old opera house which Dominik uses as his nest, but the only plans I could find I was pretty sure had been deliberately changed and, as it turns out, I was right. 

But if it’s daylight outside, this is my only chance to get out of here. They won’t pursue me while the sun is up, and if I do it right, I could be on a plane back to London before nightfall. I could escape.

Whilst I know Dominik is capable of following me, I doubt he’ll bother if I’m in another country and no longer a threat.

Then all I have to worry about is the ire of my family for failing and how I’m going to deal with work and my impending need for maternity leave.

I’m the only female solicitor in the firm. The concept of my reproductive system has likely not occurred to the partners. It’s going to be difficult to say the least.

I turn another corner, and to my great relief, I see a narrow set of stairs descending into the dark. I’ve spent plenty of time in dark vampire infested places so it doesn’t worry me too much as I creep closer and listen for anything which might denote vamp presence.

The stairwell is quiet, so I descend as quickly and stealthily as I can to the next landing. By my reckoning, I’m on the fifth floor, so I still have another three to go before I hit the lower level and can hopefully walk out of here, unmolested.

It seems I’ve hit the jackpot when it comes to stairs as they continue down, and I follow, not prepared to question my good fortune, and by the time I reach the last step, it’s clear my calculations were correct.

Now all I need to do is get past all the thralls and any vampire guards lurking in the shadows.

Because just like humans, some vamps get insomnia. And having been divested of all my weapons other than the set of wire snips, I don’t want to run into some cranky monster who might also be feeling a bit peckish.

Or to run into Dominik Király again. 

Because as dismissive as he was to find me about to stake him in the heart and cut off his head, there’s something more compelling about him than any other vamp I’ve been sent to kill.

I grit my teeth and forge on. Knowing I came from the rear of the building, I continue ahead. My time with Dominik was colored by the fact he was helping my friend, Grace, or rather her werewolf mate. He certainly didn’t seem to pay me that much attention and on occasion was pompously, irritatingly dismissive.

It should have made it easier to stake him. But I still hesitated.

And it’s a hesitation I’m going to pay dearly for.

A cold wind hits me, coupled with the metallic tang of snow. I can’t be far from the entrance, and I increase my pace.

Big mistake. My footsteps ring out as I hit the tiles I knew were there and forgot about in my desire to get out of the vampire nest I entered willingly.

“Hello, little morsel,” a deep, accented voice says into my ear. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He’s directly behind me. Directly in front of me is the door leading out into Budapest. 

The door to freedom.

It’s only overrated if you have it.

Vamps are fast. So am I. But this is the king of the vampires, Dominik Király. He’s so fast I’m not sure I stand a chance of getting to the door.

I have one possible option left to me. I fire my elbow backwards, impacting the vampire king behind me and run, reaching the door before what I’ve done can register. I wrench it open, and I’m out in the snow, which is almost blinding.

“I love it when they run.” His voice carries out after me.

I turn and look back at the door. The vampire king stands there, resplendent in his evening wear, looking as crisp as the day he died. Tall, dark, cheekbones you could cut yourself on, and startlingly blue eyes in a pale face. The very epitome of elegance and movie star good looks. He could be in his thirties, but he’s more likely three hundred years old.

If he had been anything or anyone else, he’d be highly desirable. But he’s a vampire and off limits.

Not that I need limits. The fact I failed to kill him will be a mark against me by my family.

“Love this.” I give him the time honored two-finger salute the British are so fond of. And not the one Churchill used.

Dominik shakes his head, and I hear the slow tut. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” he intones. “That was beneath you.”

“Says the blood-sucking vampire.”

“We’re both blood suckers, just in different ways,” he says with the hint of a smile.

“If you’re trying to be funny about my career choices, I’ve heard it all before.” I sigh.

“And I’ve heard all the insults any vampire is likely to receive, so perhaps that makes us alike.”

“I am nothing like you,” I growl. “Don’t come after me, or I will stake you.”

I back away, not allowing my eyes to leave him for a moment. Dominik can daywalk, unlike most of his kind. The only saving grace is he’s slower, allegedly.

But not that much slower.

Behind me, a tram rattles to a stop, and I board the yellow and cream contraption.

“Until next time,” Dominik calls out with a wave, as if saying goodbye to an old friend.

I slump into a seat as both relief and exhaustion overtake the adrenaline. There won’t be a next time. Not ever.

This time I’m done with vampire hunting. And I’m done with vampires. Especially ones called Dominik Király.

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