Page 77 of V for Vindictive

“Let’s get moving,” Phil cut in sharply, his voice tainted with something I couldn’t identify.

Still, I was glad to be jolted back to the present and most important matter at hand—the unfolding plan to trap an evil bastard.

Time to kill some old-ass undead assholes.

Chapter 29

Random Jo’s Request

You know those classic action-horror montages from movies likeBladeandUnderworld? Well, if I was asked to describe the play-by-play of our epic coven takedown, those movies would probably be the closest to what went down. Except, we had a magic-wielding motherfucker who bound and paralyzed several vampires using distinct symbols underfoot, cleverly striking enemies all over the room.

But what killed me on first glance was that the dude preened his nails with another river rock levitating above his other hand, standing in front of a row of hissing vampires, totally bored and ready to leave. I think I even caught the bastard yawning, but he was still wearing those ridiculous goggles, so it could’ve been to shift them back into place. Either case was believable for the Dark Fae apparently ready to call it quits and get back to whatever it was pretty boys did in their spare time.

Go to the spa and get massages?

Watching the Dark Fae was entertaining all on its own. It absently made me wonder if Cash put on some kind of elaborate show with everyone else, when really this allegedly spineless asshole fought like a goddamn demon. It didn’t make sense at first. Cash was supposed to be the squealing, screeching damsel of the group. I had money on him being in a cornersomewhere, shooing vampires away and demanding that I come save his Dark Fae ass.

Instead, I got this weird, badass version of him.

I didn’t think the dude knew how to fight, or was really any good at it, but he dodged, ducked, dipped, and dived with the best of us.

Ugh, I used a Phillip line because I’m clearly running out of my own material.

Granted, I’d been around the always-showing-off Phillip for far too long, so it seemed weird when someone wasn’t bragging about their abilities. But the Austrian made it sound like Cash wasn’t powerful—or at least that was the impression I’d been given of the Dark Fae.

Okay, so it didn’t make sense that Cassius would be totally useless if Eros made him his personal lap-boy. He wouldn’t have survived long enough going toe-to-toe with Phillip either. So, what was the truth here with the Fae? Why did it feel like the dude was a mystery, wrapped in a paradox, coated in an enigma?

I sank my stake into another vampire, side-eyeing Cash as his pretty magic swirled and burned in his palm around a different river rock this time.

How many rocks does this guy have?

The night-vision goggles made the Dark Fae look like he was a steampunk actor playing a warlock. His near-white hair thrashed violently around his head, and his glittering power spindled around his hand in a multicolored dance of light.

With a brutal swipe of my sword, I decapitated the vampire I staked, barely avoiding the explosion of ash. I landed a kick on another onerunning at me from the other side, and then quickly took a knee to stake that one, too.

Feels good. V is back.

Blowing red hair out of my eyes that’d come loose from my ponytail, I scoped out the area and ticked off the number of vampires left, which was easily thirty by my count.

In here, anyway.

Talk about a town overrun with vampires, you just didn’t see coven sizes this large anymore. Hunters sniffed them out before it got this out of control.

Back in the“hay day”as Grams affectionately called it, air quoting it every time—I blamed her for the fact that sarcasm was my first language—vampires were craftier and knew how to evade the technology the Organization used. Their sizes grew in secret, and this present size we fought was commonplace back then.

Grams would throw her arms into the air, expressing the sheer size of the covens she fought on a normal basis. Sitting back in her favorite armchair, she always got a happy twinkle in her eyes saying,“You kids have it so easy now. All this technology and algorithm-bullshit doing half the work the other Hunters and I were forced to do. You’ll never really understand the danger of underestimating what you walked into...”

Sometimes Grams would give away her heartache and pain. Just a little. Just enough to catch my attention. It always felt like an illusion. Like if I blinked, I’d miss it. But it was a look so entrenched in sadness and loss it made my throat seize and eyes burn. Then it was gone, and she’d clear her throat, acting as if she’d lost her train of thought for a second rather than being sucked into a painful memory.

“It was dangerous to underestimate some of these covens—the large ones with fifty or more. Bastards, all of them. Their leaders knew how to swarm a group of Hunters, thin the numbers, separate them from each other. Claimed the lives of some of the best Hunters I ever worked with, underestimating a fight.”

Over the last decade, we used algorithms and local source reports to find commonalities that suggested a coven was in the area. Thanks to those algorithms, many were only starting to build their numbers. Their inability to hide mass disappearances and limit “freak accidents” were the bread crumbs we, the Hansel and Gretel Hunters, picked up to keep their numbers and covens from taking root in any one area.

Or so I thought.

Clearly, whatever this coven did hid their presence from the algorithms the Organization used. Or maybe something was here that needed more looking into.

A backdoor deal, perhaps?

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