Page 4 of Curse of the Bride Assassin

I read it silently to myself, twice. Femme Fatale Freakshow? I haven’t heard of them before. They seem like a big deal, given theirmethodof delivering their invite and the fact they found our home in the first place. It’s not like assassins go to an annual convention. We don’t hold networking nights at the local bar,either. We tend to be a solitary group, lone wolves, unless you’re in a family like mine or a guild. Despite that, we tend to at least know of each other because it’s a small industry.

I show Dad the invite, and he squints at it. He takes it from me and flips it over to the other side, the same expression lingering on his face.

“Why is it blank?” he asks.

“No, there’s a whole letter. You don’t see the text?” It must be spelled to only work for the reader.

“No. I don’t. What does it say?” Dad’s voice is cautious, his jaw tense. He runs a hand through his black hair. It’s curly like mine and loose around his shoulders, with a small white-gray streak in the front.

“There’s this assassin’s guild, the Femme Fatale Freakshow. They want me to join. It’s a life membership… I think they know where Mom is.”

“Then you have to join,” he says with an air of resignation. “I know how badly you want to find her, and I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No you won’t. I know you pretend that everything is fine, but it has to hurt not having your fated mate around. I see the moments where your mask drops, Dad.”

“Girlie, I survived hundreds of years without her. I know she’s out there—I feel it. But you’re right. She’d never go silent on us like this. Something is wrong, and you have this golden opportunity to find her. Take it. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll think about it,” I promise him.

The invitation did say to consider the offer carefully. This is the kind of club where you’re in it for life. And even though I’mtechnicallyimmortal, I’m sure they can find a silver bullet somewhere if they need to get rid of me.

I lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning. Researching the Femme Fatale Freakshow online gives menothing. None of the dark web sources have anything concrete—just rumors and horror stories about their supposed targets—but there’s no proof. There is a thread about how someone thinks they may be based on the east coast of the United States, but it abruptly ends there, with no further comments.

Mom got the same invite and left. I know she’s in the guild. Joining them is the only lead I have to find her. Every other lead has been a dead end, and I know deep in my cold black heart that something isn’t right. She may be alive like Dad said, but she would never disappear like this, even if she was a part of some lethal assassin’s guild.

At six, I finally give up on sleeping. It’s mostly a habit anyway, because I don’t have to get as much of it as some paranormals do. A perk of being half vampire. I take the invitation to the kitchen, then grab my favorite hot sauce, Caliente Fuego, drizzling it all over. Then I get creative and sprinkle some cheese on it and roll it up like a taquito. The texture and taste are awful, and not even my ride or die sauce can make this palatable. Every bite feels like I’m one step closer to making an ominous, life changing decision that I may regret.

Please, help me find my mother,I pray to the gods as I swallow the last bite.

When I’m done, I belch. Not a normal one, but one that feels as if my entire chest is burning. Black smoke billows out of my mouth, and a business card materializes from it and drops onto the floor. When I pick it up, there’s the name of a target on it.

Mario Conti.

Are they for real? They want me to kill the leader of the largest vampire mafia clan in New York City? A man who stakes his enemies alive for poetic justice and leaves their corpses all over the city to send a message? The organization that has the entire police force and government officials on every level in their pocket?

The gods’ hope, go big or go home I guess.

On the back of the card, there’s a handwritten note.

His nephew Vincenzo is the weakest link. Use him to find who you’re looking for.

Does the guild know… Are they actually helping me find Mom?

Researching Vincenzo on the web doesn’t give me a ton of useful information. The results tell me he’s the CFO of Conti Construction & Real Estate, the legal face of the Conti family, and detailing his involvement in some charities here and there. The dark web is barren too. No surprise there. The vampire mafia most likely has its own tech team who cleans up their online presence. His socials show me some pictures of him. All staged instead of organic, of course.

He’s handsome, with thick, wavy dark hair slicked back and black eyes. He has a strong, square jaw, and full lips. GQ can feature him in a full page spread if they wanted to do a segment on business moguls.

If I’m going to use this guy to get to his uncle, I need more information. I call my best contact, Favian. He’s a wolf shifter who knows everything about everyone and has no issue sharing that information for a hefty price, which is why I use his services sparingly. He’s a huge flirt, despite the amount of time I’ve made it clear that I am not interested in him. But any price is worth finding Mom, even if I have to endure Favian’s nastiness.

“Delilah, the most beautiful, precious flower in the garden! Have you decided to take me up on my dinner invitation?” he answers. No greeting, just straight to his usual bullshit. “There’s a new sushi place down the block from my pack’s compound, and I can get us a reservation.”

I hold back my wretch at his tacky, over the top compliment. It’s not my style at all. “I’d rather get left out in the sun with noamulet protection and die a slow, painful death than go to dinner with you. I’m calling for some information.”

His wistful sigh echoes down the line. “That’ll cost you one dinner with me.”

“You either take cash, or I will come find you and extract the information my way. Just because I’m an assassin doesn’t mean I can’t order my own hits.”

“Ooo la la, don’t threaten me with a good time. Roleplaying is my jam. There’s a full moon this Friday… We can do some primal play, pretend it’s Bacchanalia. I’m not into toxic masculinity baby, I’d let you chase me all over the woods andkillme when you find me. I just want to feel those curves, take a bite of your juice peach.”

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