A/N: Yayyy! I so love you guys and gals. I am too happy to be back, you have no idea. Real life has nothing on the FF universe. So here's the thing, my last Fic topped out at 1505 reviews. I want this Fic to beat it like a rented mule! I will admit I don't a way with analogies but you guys know what I mean. For writers that bust their butts here a review is like a book sold. I can't speak for every other writer but it makes my day. So join my cause!

Chapter 2

The Hard Way

Vampires were creatures of habit. Eventually we would go back to somewhere that offered us a specific thing no place else could. It might be the scent of sand in the desert, or the salt in the ocean, but there was always something. Franklin Mott couldn't resist bakeries; specifically speaking he enjoyed baking wedding cakes. He was easy to find. It was wedding season on Cape Cod in Massachusetts; he was taking his choice of shops.

That particular quirk would be fine, except he had a penchant for kidnapping little girls of just about any species. He would force them to play house, and when they became women, he killed them. His toll of victims was so high that human law enforcement thought him to be a serial killer. Other supernatural creatures were shouting at The Pythoness for his head and they would get it.

Admittedly, I'd seen things that are more peculiar but this shit was just…fucking strange. Not considering the fact vampires didn't eat or the scent of human foods were off putting to the undead, there was a mark on his back, and he knew it. The only hope he had in avoiding justice was to escape to the Old World, Europe. They used old rules and had slightly more flexible morals, but offered less freedom in return. That, too, was a better choice than The Catacombs. While he had that option, here Franklin was, decorating a cake.

I watched him from across the rooftop. There was a woman in the corner. She was covered in flour but unharmed. She was an employee who had been unfortunate enough to be working after hours. By the blankness of her face and the bleariness of her eyes, he had put her under his thrall so he could have his way with her cake. Franklin danced and sang happily while decorating a four-tier masterpiece. It was a replica of The Vatican, complete with The Sistine Chapel. The artistry really was impressive.

There was a look of equal parts lust and love in his eyes that told me he was thinking of exchanging vows with his next victim. Since he wouldn't get another, I let him have his fantasy. Also, it was my assumption that interrupting it would make things difficult. I waited for him to finish before I took him down. As Franklin turned away from the main road and toward a nearby cemetery, I landed in his path from above. What could I say? I like to make an impression.

"Look, you have two choices," I began amicably. "The first is my way and it involves little to no pain, but requires your full cooperation…" He bolted before I finished.

I spared a second to sigh.

The first target often dictated the tone for my entire hunting trip. By the feel of this, it was in for a long one. For some reason I couldn't imagine, people always ran or fought, which was the second option. To this day, it has never worked for anyone. The only thing they had to gain was pain. That was the consequence to those who actually made me work for my living.

Franklin had been counting on me flying, but I was just as fast on foot as I was in the air. I cut off his retreat so abruptly that he ran into me. Then I wrapped my arms around him and stabbed him in the back, severing his spinal column. He instantly went limp in my arms. There was nothing for him to do to defend himself but scream and he did.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to rip out your voice box and feed it to you."

He decided to take his chances in court rather than with me. Smart man. I carried him back to the crypt where he rested, gagged him, and bound him in silver. Then I called the closest Enforcer of the Pythoness to let them know where they could find Franklin Mott. That was pretty much how every case went. I chased them, found them, and called someone else to bring them in.

Since I took the plea bargain, I did my job. Regardless of my proficiency at the job, I never got it confused with a righteous cause. I didn't care who Franklin or any of the other ones were. What they had done didn't matter either. I was serving a different kind of sentence. My crime was stupidity.

Eight months and fourteen lawbreakers later, I found myself in Nebraska in the armpit of nowhere. Literally, I was in a cornfield and there was nothing for miles and miles but more cornfields. This wasn't my idea of a good time. I was chasing down the last vampire on my to-do list. I had very little patience left. The fact that Mickey was nicknamed "The Devil of the Shire" didn't scare me. It made me pity him. Apparently, all the good nicknames were taken before he was made.

I'd found him an hour ago in a little bar on the state line. As I did with every target I had to take down or take in, I'd given him his options, limited as they were. "The Devil of the Shire" had gone with the second option. Apparently, he didn't care that I was missing reruns of "Buffy The Vampire Slayer."

The devil my cold dead ass! He wasn't living up to his reputation. He was moving in a panic and wasn't even level-headed enough to do it quietly. I was following his mad dashes of evasion at a leisurely pace. If I were out to end him, I could do it with my eyes closed.

"Enough already! Stop running!" I said, moving through the brush.

"You don't have to chase me," he replied calmly.

"This'll get worked out in court," I told him. "I know a good lawyer."

"Fuck you!" And that was it for conversation.

I sighed. I didn't know why he had decided to run this way. There was nothing here, but he had long scoped out the area so chances were he had a few surprises for me. I wasn't wrong. I saw the trip wires ahead and decided to set them off anyway. It would make things move along much faster if he came to me.

I fell into a pit that had been dug into the ground. The hole was at least thirty feet deep. It might have even been an old well. The sides were tiled and slick with oil even the most agile creature wouldn't have been able to climb out. I looked down and saw human corpses in varying stages of decay. If not for my ability to fly, I would have an ass full of wooden pikes.

I kicked at several of the spikes so they snapped, then I bit my finger and fanned my blood all around me. I made some gurgling noises as if I'd been impaled. Sure enough, the idiot came running and there was a triumphant expression on his face.

"Looks like option B worked out for me after all," Mickey said with a delighted laugh. "Now tell me who sent you before I make popcorn from your pile of ashes."

"Oh…no…please don't," I whimpered in an utterly pathetic tone.

I could put on a good show. I've had more than a few people beg me for mercy that wasn't mine to give. He struck a match and set a nearby cornhusk on fire. Now I was truly annoyed. This was my favorite t-shirt. If he ruined it, I was really going to make the next couple nights hell for him. Not wanting to await an answer, he dropped the burning vegetable along the edge of the well, setting fire all around me. Before the flames engulfed the small space, I flew up and had him pinned under me.

"Option B never works for anyone," I hissed, then snapped his neck.

He was a vampire. It would be a mild source of discomfort until it healed. Unfortunately, for Mickey, he was last on my roll call. It meant I would be delivering him personally to Minnesota and it was a long way. Then I could drop off my car, my gear, and disappear for a few more months. Maybe I could visit Godric or my sister.

Mickey had many crimes, most of which were against humans. That was a marker of S1 undead or supernatural creatures in general. They couldn't go toe to toe with their own kind so they victimized humans who, unbeknownst to them, aren't as high on the food chain as they thought.

He had been picking sides in wars in developing countries. His trademark was gathering refugees or soldiers in churches and then setting it on fire. He had been given his warnings and he had ignored them, so here we were: him with his neck broken and me having to drive him the hundreds of miles to decide his fate.

I had to snap his neck every time it healed. He wouldn't stop screaming, begging, and trying to bribe me otherwise. It was messing with every song that played on the radio.

I arrived in Minnesota two nights later right before dawn. The only option I had outside the hospitality of Her Grace was going to ground. I went to ground with a pep in my step. The next night I began my journey west towards California, a much more pleasurable location this time of year.

California was one of those places that changed drastically with every passing decade but the change was superficial. The scents, sights, and sounds of the state were so easily swayed by the heavy influx of population. Nevertheless, the heart and soul of the state never changed. I found myself in Santa Monica.

The feel to the air around me was frantic. Some humans were high; others were trying to get there. They roofied each other, stole, did lines of coke, and teamed up for quickies in the restrooms. I'd gone a few days without blood and was looking to feed. The choices I had weren't ideal. Being a vampire, I couldn't catch diseases from the many sick people here, but I could catch a contact high. That was the last thing I needed.

I left the club. It was early enough to try my hand elsewhere. That was how I found her. She was seated on the balcony of what was presumably the hotel's restaurant. Her meal was done, but she was simply picking at it for something to do. From this distance, I could smell what she was fighting so hard to suppress. She was ovulating, and her need was thick in the air about her.

There was something about the scent of women when they were in heat. Their sheaths were slicker and their bodies were half aroused even before a man laid hand upon them. The pheromones their bodies gave off were sharper and so much louder, so that even human males took notice. With heightened senses, it was impossible to ignore. When the wind blew in my face, my fangs tingled. This woman was in need, desperately so.

Even with the distance and cars, drinks, drugs, and people, she was making my mouth water. She smelled better than anything I'd encountered in so long. I knew I had to have her, which was before I took in her physical splendor. Beautiful as she was, she wasn't advertising the fact; she was seated alone in a dimly lit corner as if trying to go unnoticed. I wondered if she knew how impossible such a thing was. In the blackest night, she would still shine.

While many men and some women stared, she hadn't made eye contact with a single one to encourage their advances. It wasn't something that ever made a difference to me before but I noticed her hair first. There was lushness to the perfectly coiffed strands that made my fingers itch to touch. From her proper posture at the table, I could see her frame properly. She was womanly, voluptuous even.

The dips and curves on her body were in all the right places and her tank top and tight low riding denim jeans displayed it for all my viewing pleasure. If that wasn't enough to call the attention of all men, her breasts were perfect and I would bet all I had she wasn't wearing a bra. From under the table I could see that her thighs were pressed together to belie the blazing heat at her core. It had to be the hunger for blood that was causing such a strong physical reaction.

As if the woman felt my eyes on her, she looked across the street to where I stood still in the influx of people, watching her. I approached her and she took in every step as I parted the crowd and navigated traffic with ease. The closer I got, the more of her I could see. By that, I meant she got more attractive to my eyes. I could see the sparkle in her blue eyes and the supple smooth texture to her sun-kissed skin. I could see the slight pout to her full lips. Without awaiting an invitation, I sat across from her. My pose was slouched, casual, as if I owned the place.

I thought my flagrant display of arrogance would elicit a reaction from her but it didn't. She didn't waver under the intensity of my stare. She matched it. As I studied her, she in turn studied me. I knew her habits within the instant I sat across her. She was ambidextrous, but favored her right hand. She didn't smoke, do any drugs, or drink. There was a subtle perfume rolling off her that mixed well with her natural fragrance.

She spoke first. There was something in the soft timbre of her voice I found both tempting and soothing. "Hiya, tall, blonde, and handsome," she greeted. "Whatcha' drinking?"

She might be a working girl. If she was working, I didn't mind paying. That profile didn't fit her though. She lacked the flagrant flirtatiousness they used as advertising. I'd also never known a hooker to buy a man a drink. I tilted my head to the side and stared at her trying to make her squirm. She only mocked the gesture, but a smile curved her lips. Some people were fang-friendly groupies who even sought vampires exclusively. I wondered what category she fell in.

"A negative," I replied, flashing a bit of fang.

The thought didn't scare her. Her server had been one the many men who had been watching her. Her hand was barely in the air to gain his attention and he was rushing over. He smiled eagerly and if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging all over the place.

"Did you change your mind about dessert?" Without waiting for a response, he took her glass of water. "I'll get you fresh ice."

She smiled at him as he turned several shades of red. "Thank you, Jamie. I'd appreciate that and a bottle of blood, A negative, please."

His eyes went wide. "You're a vampire."

"Are you scared?" she asked.

He shook his head with eyes wide. "I'd want to be your minion or whatever?"

"You're too good for that," she said, patting his arm. "Plus I'm not a vampire. He is."

She inclined her head toward me. Throughout their entire dialogue he hadn't taken notice of me. It wasn't insulting. It was amusing.

"I'm not hiring right now," I said with a nod. "If something opens up I'll let you know."

That was me being sarcastic, but he nodded happily and walked away to retrieve our orders.

I began wondering what she was. Being this close and seeing the way she so easily enthralled, I was inclined to believe she was other, but her scent read as human. I couldn't sense any kind of glamour at work. While I awaited my drink, I read more into her vitals. Her heartbeat was steady, her posture was relaxed. I watched her and she watched me. All the while, my body was screaming that I wasn't close enough.

"I'm in town for the weekend and I don't want to sleep alone," she said, after our orders arrived. "Interested?"

It was one of the things I enjoyed about the current times. Women enjoyed the same sexual liberties as their male counterparts. She wanted sex with no strings attached and she wasn't shy about asking for it.

"Yes," I said. "I am interested."

She threw down at least three hundred dollars for what had to be a forty-dollar meal. "My room's upstairs."

***Spoiler Alert***

This is the earliest that I have inserted a lemon into a Fic. There will citrus a plenty, not just the next chapter but the next two.