Brenda woke with a feeling of dread. Tonight was the night. They'd go to the warehouse and try to find Grace. They'd act blatantly against the Prince of Denver. She'd walk right into the lair of the one who'd raped her. She'd never known fear like this when she'd been alive.
By the time Brenda had showered Simon had come out and laid down some clothes. This time there was a pair of vinyl pants and a KMFDM t-shirt. She eyed them for a moment. She'd heard of KMFDM, she thought. Weren't they still around? If this had belonged to his Sire, she couldn't have been gone for more than a few years.
"I thought maybe pants would be more comfortable if we need to . . . move fast," Simon said from his seat in front of his lap top. "If they don't fit, let me know."
"Okay." Again she lamented her lack of panties, but there were so many bigger things to worry about. It was a small dignity he'd taken from her, compared to the rest. She waited as Simon departed into the bathroom, and then she dressed herself. The vinyl felt weird. She guessed the pants fit okay, but it just didn't feel like clothes.
Simon emerged from the bathroom a short while later, fully dressed, and damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead in a way that seemed somehow endearing. "We're going to have to feed again."
"But we just did that last night!" Brenda said in a voice that came out a bit more shrill than she'd intended.
"What we're going to be doing is dangerous, and if we're going to hope to survive, let alone succeed, we need to be fully fed."
She nodded, knowing he was right.
"I won't ask you do to anything you're not comfortable with yet," he told her. "But it's too early to prey upon homeless people in their sleep."
"I don't want to feed in the club. I just can't do it. I . . . I'll wait for you to do it. I have enough blood in me," she said, knowing she could certainly stand to drink a bit more.
"All right. You need it as much as I do. There is another option we can try. I sometimes, when there's no other choice, pretend to mug people." He looked away from her eyes as he said it, as if ashamed. "Those are really the only options we have with the time we have left. It's up to you."
Brenda cringed at the idea of mugging someone, but at the same time, she just couldn't handle the alternative. "All right. The mugging."
Simon nodded and went into his room. He emerged and offered Brenda a ski mask. "Were you able to get a gun?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Let's go."
-
Denver was full of poorly lit alleys. Brenda waited just outside one of Simon's choosing, after he'd melted away into the darkness within. Her task was simple, in theory. She waited for someone who looked vulnerable.
It didn't take long. Two girls, perhaps a few years younger than Brenda climbed out of a car they'd parked a block or so down the street. They looked like they were on their way to a bar or a club, most likely. Parking in Denver was a bitch, which worked to a predator's advantage in this case.
Brenda watched as they drew close, laughing and gossiping, completely oblivious, until she stepped directly in front of them, aiming her gun at them. "Into the alley," she said, fearing that they would not obey.
Both women looked at her with wide eyes, and exchanged hesitant glances.
Brenda had expected this. She clicked the safety off on her gun. "Now."
The girls now jumped to obey, as she'd hoped. If they hadn't, Brenda hadn't been sure what she would do. Certainly not shoot them.
Simon stepped out of the darkness, silent and malevolent, seizing one of the girls roughly by the arm while pressing his gun into her back. "Onto the ground, both of you," he said in a voice that was uncharacteristically cruel.
Brenda heard one of the girls whimper, and didn't blame her. She had to remind herself that this was her Simon, the man who'd shown her kindness and taken her into his home after giving her eternal life. He emanated an aura of menace as he removed the purse from one of the girls' hands, and then lowered himself down, his lips closing over the pale flesh of her neck.
Brenda quickly followed his example, unable to bring herself to be nearly as rough as her Sire had been as she relieved the girl of her purse, and drove her teeth into her flesh. Something in her rejoiced as the hot blood came forth. She hated the act, and yet found herself relishing it all the same, savoring the exhilarating feeling that came with the drink.
After the initial rush of sensation passed, she forced herself to begin counting the seconds. One, one thousand, two one thousand . . . She withdrew once she'd reached ten, running her tongue over the wound, savoring the last taste even as she grimaced at the taste of whatever perfume the girl had decided to marinate herself in. The girl trembled beneath Brenda, stifling a sob, and Brenda couldn't help but remember the revulsion she'd felt, bound and naked, her captor's tongue running across her skin. Sickened, she rose to her feet.
Simon still managed to keep a level head, rising more slowly, pressing his gun into the other girl's back. "Now, you're both going to begin slowly counting to ten. If either of you moves before the count of ten, I will shoot you," he said, pressing the gun harder into the girl's back before withdrawing it and stepping back.
Brenda went with him as he moved out of the alley, breaking into a run and vanishing from sight. Brenda tore the mask off of her head and began to run a short distance, but quickly slowed her pace to normal once she'd given herself a bit of distance. She didn't want to draw attention to herself.
"Here." Simon's voice came from behind her, and he held out his hand.
Brenda frowned for a moment, and then handed him the purse.
He rummaged through it for a moment, pulling out some cash, and then tossed it into a nearby trash can. He counted the money quickly, and then handed Brenda two twenties.
Brenda stared at the money guiltily. Now that it was over, she felt sickened by what they'd done. She didn't think she could bring herself to feed this way again, no matter how dire the need. She felt the need to make amends. Perhaps she'd donate the money to a battered women's shelter, she decided, slipping the money into a pocket. "I don't want to do this again."
Simon only nodded, as if that had been the answer he'd expected. Perhaps that had been his intention all along, to show her there were worse ways to feed than the one she was so fearful of. Perhaps that was why he'd allowed himself to seem so cruel.
Brenda didn't believe he would have been any more likely to truly harm those women than she'd been. But she wasn't the one who'd needed to believe it, and he'd done an excellent job of convincing their victims.
"Do you know anyone who can help us rescue the child?" Simon asked her.
"I hardly know anyone," Brenda pointed out. "I'm sure Morgan would, but she's too far away. Sanji?"
Simon shook his head. "Sanji might be willing, but he wouldn't be able to offer much. We'd only be putting him in danger."
"What about Liz?" As they walked, they'd nearly reached her club.
"No, Liz wouldn't risk herself. Not for me."
Brenda frowned. She'd thought Liz was Simon's friend.
"Is there anyone you've met?"
Brenda's hand slipped into her pocket. Aside from the gun was the card belonging to the man who'd given it to her. He'd asked for her friendship, and she'd promised herself she would contact him as a friend, rather than as someone in need of a favor, the next time they spoke. But the man had an arsenal in his Ferrari. "There is the guy I got the gun from. He has a lot of weapons. But I'm not sure it's fair for me to ask him to do this when he hardly knows me at all."
"Are you going to place your discomfort ahead of Grace's life?" Simon asked bluntly.
Brenda flinched. "No. Of course not. Oh, I see his Ferrari. He must be inside. Let's go find him."
She and Simon entered the club, and looked around for several minutes, but Brenda saw no sign of Matt Redmond. Finally, she led Simon back outside, and fished his card out of her pocket. "May I use your phone?"
Simon handed the phone to her.
The phone only rang one time, before she heard the unmistakable, gravelly voice answer. "Hello?"
"Matt? This is Brenda."
"Red."
She smiled self-consciously. He remembered her, then. She realized she hadn't been sure he would. He'd struck her as the sort of man who knew a lot of women, so what was one more? "Yeah. Listen, I'm sorry to do this, but I was hoping you might be able to help me find a little girl."
"The one you told me about before? Simmons? You know where she is?" He really had paid attention. Perhaps she'd misjudged him when she'd identified him as purely trouble.
"Yeah. Is there a way Simon and I could talk to you in person about it?"
"Sure. I'm upstairs at the club. When will you be here?"
"We're right outside."
"Okay. I'll see you in just a minute then, Red." There was a click.
Brenda handed Simon his phone. "Upstairs. I think he'll help."
"I heard," Simon told her as he slipped his phone into his pocket with a slight smirk. "Let's go."
Brenda wondered when she would get accustomed to the keen senses that came with being a Mekhet. It hadn't occurred to her that Simon would hear both ends of her conversation. She followed Simon through the club, relieved that he appeared to know where he was going as he led her into a back door she hadn't been through before, and up a flight of stairs to knock on a door at the top.
Liz answered, her blond hair in an unusual state of disarray, stepping aside with hardly a word, and certainly no smile.
Matt, on the other hand, offered Brenda a dazzling smile as he stood within, buttoning his shirt, hiding away dark chest hair.
Simon looked completely embarrassed, and Brenda didn't feel much better. It was obvious what she'd interrupted, but still, it was too important to wait. What she didn't quite understand was why Matt answered his phone if he'd been in bed with Liz. It seemed whatever they had going on, Liz was more invested in it than he was.
"So, where's the little girl? You know where she is?" Matt asked Brenda, giving Simon a polite nod.
"She's in a warehouse belonging to the Prince."
He nodded. "So, looks like it's finally time to make our move against him. All right. You'll want weapons, I take it? I'll call us some reinforcements. The Movement's just been waiting for the right time."
