A Guide to Vampire Hunting: ...and other failures (Alchemy Inc. Book 1) Page 2

  Amelia dropped the empty cans in the trash can and sat down against the far wall. “No.” She sighed dejectedly.

  “I hate to ask, because it might look like I cared, but why the long face, luv? You’ve never caught a blood sucker in your life. Nothing’s changed.”

  “I owe some foreign rich guy four hundred dollars.”

  Jack spat out his Monster. “What in God’s Name did you do?”

  Sparrow leapt off of Jack’s lap complaining about the spray of green caffine and walked over to Amelia, she ran her fingers over his soft fluff. “I put a cigarette burn in his hat.”

  “Aside from the pressing question as to how you did this, since when were hats worth four hundred dollars?”

  “Four fifty. I already gave him all my tips from both this week and last.”

  “Setting aside the question of what kind of Ramen is free, what was so special about this hat?”

  “It was a Gucci.”

  “Pfft. Bollocks, probably a China town purchase.”

  “Nope. It was the real deal. Mister moneybags would never have been caught with something so gauche as a knock-off.”

  “Want me to withdraw four hundred from his checking account and then let you give it back to him? What was his name?”

  “Kristoff Kuryakin.”

  Jack wheeled around in his chair to look at her. “Sorry luv, you’re on your own with this one. Kristoff has ties in the Russian…quarter. I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole. Fuck with the man, yes. Rob him? Nope. His brother is a bleeding nightmare.”

  Amelia slumped, “It’s just as well, I’d feel bad even stealing from the rich. I’ll just work the debt off. Maybe water and saltines will be within my budget.”

  “You can always have some of my crisps.”

  “Thanks.” Amelia stood and went into her small bedroom then dead dropped on the bed.

  The following morning Amelia’s eyes drooped and her boss kept reminding her not to over steam the milk.

  “Miss?”

  Right. The real world.

  “Miss Dagda?”

  Shit. Amelia looked up. It was Kristoff. “Hi.” She said blandly. “Is this your triple soy extra foam upside down extra caramel macchiato?”

  He looked puzzled and just raised his paper mug. “No. I have mine.”

  Amelia felt slightly affronted, who had jumped her and made a drink out of line? “What is it?” She asked suspiciously.

  “Black.” He responded as if she had lost her mind. Maybe she had.

  Amelia sighed and wiped her hands on a bar towel. “I really can’t give you anything until Friday when I get paid next.”

  “Wait! I have come to a new proposal.”

  Amelia looked up hopefully, then narrowed her eyes on consideration. “What do you want?”

  He smiled and leaned back on his heels, and Amelia finally got a good look at him in the morning light. Without the darkness, it was obvious that his sooty black hair curled slightly, falling to his shoulder tops in varying razor cut lengths. Kristoff’s hair was shoved partially back off his face framing sharp slavic features and a lightly golden tan, and sparkling blue eyes so navy she had mistaken them for black the night before. God why were all the hot ones assholes?

  “Well, do you like what you see?”

  Amelia realized that she was checking him out and snapped into the present with a blush.

  Waiting pointedly, as if to embarrass Amelia more, Kristoff crossed one arm over his chest and sipped his coffee with the other.

  Amelia glared. “You were saying?” She growled trying to sound as if he had been the one causing the halt in their conversation.

  “I would like a companion.”

  “A what?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m new to town and wish a guide. Someone who knows their way around to help me see the sights. And you seem…” He looked her over as if considering his wording. “Street-saavy.”

  “You want me to hang out with you for four hundred dollars?”

  “Yes.” He replied, and Amelia narrowed her eyes thunderously. “In fact,” he continued. “I would forgive your debt entirely.”

  Amelia stared at him like he was crazy, then muttered rich people… “I hate to say this,” Amelia said carefully so as not to anger him or rouse his less desirable side, “But I work a lot and wouldn’t be able to really, uh, give you your money’s worth.”

  He shrugged, draining the cup. “I don’t think that’s your decision. I did not state how much of your time I’d require.”

  “You know you sound crazy, right?”

  “Humor me. From the odd assortment of bills you handed me, I would guess that your money is tight and the paltry sum you owe me will go a long way.”

  It was true. Her odd hours hurt her job. Not losing any more money to the fop would make her life easier… But…he was so odd…was this really a good idea? Being entertainment for a rich weirdo? Amelia pursed her lips.

  “Let me think about it.”

  He smiled a confident, wide grin with his blindingly white teeth showing. “I’ll come back when you get off. We’ll start then.”

  “How will you know when I get off?” Amelia sputtered. But he just turned and started walking away. Only to pause to talk to the fluttering Kathy.

  Kathy, at forty years old looked like a lovestruck high school girl. Traitor. Kathy must have been meddling in her personal life again. As if to confirm this, Kathy sighed and glanced over at her, Kristoff gave her a debonaire smile.

  After he had gone Kathy sidled up to her and gave another gusty sigh. “Young love! Oh to have such a man so desperate for me he’d blackmail me for my company! How romantic! How mysterious!”

  “What an asshole.”

  Chapter 3

  Clocking out, Amelia hung up her floral apron and picked up her ratty oversized canvas handbag. As she walked toward the door, someone on the other side opened it in a gesture of courteousness never seen in Brooklyn. Amelia turned to thank the person, only to find - what should have been obvious - Kristoff.

  “Well?” He asked expectantly.

  “Well, what?” Amelia asked, more to annoy than as an indicator that she’d forgotten. He frowned deeply.

  “You know what.”

  “OH! That! It entirely slipped my mind. I just guess I’ll have to think about it more.” She shrugged.

  Kristoff frowned, “I see I have not been persuasive enough. Let me take you to a cafe and I will attempt to win you over with the details of our arrangement.”

  Amelia balked. What did cafe mean to a rich person? Before allowing him to railroad her into his 1% world she answered. “How about coffee at the Cup of Commonwealth? It’s just around the corner.”

  “You cheat on your own establishment do you?”

  “It’s cheaper.”

  “Huh. Alright, lead the way.”

  Once the two were seated outside the bohemian little cafe on their mix-matched wrought iron patio furniture Kristoff immediately started in.

  “I would only ask for three days of your free time, afternoons and such - then we can call bygones, bygones and I’ll forgive your debt - then you may afford more plastic covered asian noodles. You just need to be along with me at whatever hours you usually wander at night - your afternoons are too short for my extracurricular requirements..

  “Extracurricular requirements?”

  “I’ll get to that,” He replied waving her question away “What does your schedule look like in the coming days?”

  Amelia chewed her lip pensively. “I work 9 hours a day, 6 days a week.”

  “So, assuming you are awake at least 12 hours a day - which we both know you are awake more than - that gives me from the close of your business to what, three? Four? How long do you usually lurk on strange buildings?”

  “No.”

  “No? What do you mean no? My request is cheap compared to the debt you owe me.”

  Amelia breathed deep and patiently continued. “Let’s s
ay I do work for you. Why would you need me at midnight and beyond? Everything’s closed…And the wildlife…uh, bites.”

  “I’m an artist.” He replied as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “And?”

  “Like all artists I do my best work at night, and thus I will need a companion to wander the area with me at night so I can sketch and take pictures.”

  Amelia crossed her arms over her chest. “If you insist on seeing the wildlife in person I don’t see why you can’t do that by yourself. You’re a big guy. What do you want me to do - hold your hand?”

  “Why do you need to sit on the top of buildings all night so badly?”

  “It’s personal.”

  He scoffed. “Well, as to why, I imagine you know of many places in the city that are not as well traveled but equally as captivating as the usual scenes. Particularly at night.”

  Amelia regarded him momentarily across the table, pensive. How would she keep up her hunting if she were to squire the idiot rich artist around? Could she just drag him around the area she usually hunted? It was moodily historic. Then she could even have an excuse to be out there and tell her mother she’d taken another job and given up the revenge thing. It might work well…

  “Ok I’ll work nights, but on Saturday I visit my family and between 3-5 am are my own. Period.” Amelia agreed pointedly.

  He waved a hand dismissively, “Family fine, fine. But I hold the option to accompany you wherever you go at night between this three and five.”

  “I said that those hours are my own Kris.”

  “And those hours seriously cut into the few I will have with you,” He said stubbornly.

  “Don’t hold your breath.” Sighed out Amelia. “I suppose we have a deal. Shall we start tomorrow?”

  “I rather thought we’d already started. It was my intention for sitting at such an establishment as a cafe,” he smirked. “I thought we could spend the first day getting to know each other.”

  Amelia let the arrogance of his assumption that she would have agreed no matter what pass. “Ok, so. How long are you here for?”

  Kristoff leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Amelia sighed. This was going to be so much fun, she just knew it. “And why are you here?”

  “I am visiting relatives and showing some art, and well… this and that.”

  “The whole getting to know each other won’t work if you just throw vague answers at me.”

  He just grinned playfully. “How about we play twenty questions?” Amelia rolled her eyes. “You start.”

  “Ok. What kind of art do you do?”

  “I do city-scapes and vignettes of human scenes. I work in photograph first, then charcoal afterward. I am very fond of chiaroscuro. And you? Why aren’t you in college? You don’t appear to be stupid.”

  “I am not here for you to insult me. Some people can’t afford such things.” Amelia answered stonily.

  Kristoff nodded, “I apologize. I am blunt, it’s a cultural thing.”

  “And where are you from?” Asked Amelia trying to move the conversation away from herself again.

  “Russia. Now, why aren’t you on scholarship then? I may be presumptuous, but you appear to be capable of hard work.”

  “I was until my sister passed away and I was needed at home.”

  “I am very sorry,” Kristoff replied sincerely. “If I may, what happened.?”

  “She was murdered.” Replied Amelia bluntly in the hopes that her stark comment would put him off.

  Kristoff didn’t even flinch. “And the killer? He was found?”

  “No. The police are still looking.”

  “How sad, will you be going back to school soon then?”

  Amelia shrugged noncommittally. “Probably not, it was a worthless degree anyway.”

  “In what, pray tell?”

  “Art.”

  “I see you do not feel that art is a worthy pursuit. I am quite put out.”

  Amelia reached out to toy with her cup. “It is a beautiful pursuit that is neither capable of putting food on your table nor offering you a permanent job. It is best left to those…” Amelia stopped herself before she made a societal comment that might insult him.

  “Who are too rich to worry about such things?” He drawled in a kindly mocking voice. “You must use some of our time together to practice then. What was your medium?”

  “Steel.”

  He looked intrigued. “Steel?”

  “I’m a sculptor. Welding.”

  “Ah, this explains the metal toed boots and ragged dirty clothing.”

  “Excuse me? My clothing is perfectly clean thank you very much.”

  “Ah, stained and destroyed but sanitary you say?” He snarked back, smiling to soften his words. He laughed, “I see, bohemian chic. No, lyublyu, I believe you. Few artists sport the latest fashion.” Amelia raised an eyebrow and looked at him pointedly. “Ah,” he smirked. “But I am one of those who are too rich to think of those things. Da?”

  “You said it, I didn’t.”

  “Of course not. I’m thinking you’re perfect.”

  Amelia smiled in bemusement. “Trust me, others would disagree.”

  “Well, perfect for my little job anyway. Shall we pick up where we started tomorrow? When did you say you get off?”

  *

  As Amelia walked away Kristoff shoved his hands in the pockets of his long wool trench, then followed a safe distance behind. He strode carelessly, knowing that with his own special attributes few would remark him. But then, he couldn’t bank on her being a complete dud, some witches could smell his kind.

  He followed her a few blocks into what probably had been a poor neighborhood but was now in the process of gentrifying. Her building, however, seemed not to be benefiting from the influx of bourgeois, it lacked any security to the front and the windows were broken on several units. He stopped and rocked back on his heels. This was unexpected. The Dagda family was rather well off compared to most witch clans in the New World. Why was the youngest of them squatting in squalor and pinching pennies? Did it have something to do with her sister? Or simply something to do with Amelia herself. He suspected both. She certainly could still be living in the large brownstone her family had on one of the pretty side streets if she wished. Kristoff smiled, he rather liked the girl. What was it Americans would say? She had spunk.

  Chapter 4

  Amelia served the last customer of her day and looked outside. Today she would start her ‘job’ with Kristoff. What was it she was doing again? Playing entourage to a rich playboy/artist wanna be? Whatever.

  Promptly at 5 o’clock as she shucked her apron, the bell over the door sang and in Kristoff strode in his expensive camel coat and a plain white shirt and jeans. Only the rich could get away with pairing a $50,000 coat with a Fruit of the Loom tee and still look fashionable.

  Amelia looked up at him as she slipped her tips in her back pocket, “So what are we doing today?”

  He smiled, “Art Class.”

  “You do know, I’m 26, a little old for finger paints. Right?”

  He smirked and opened the door wide to usher her out with a flourish. “Well, considering the coffee splotches on your tee, I’d say you at least got to modernism.”

  Amelia grimaced, and found that she was indeed covered in small coffee stains. “I need to change.”

  “No sense getting clean to get dirty my father always said.”

  “Ugh. Really? Don’t you know cleanliness is close to godliness?”

  “Ah but god hates idle hands as well - and you bear the dirt of good hard work.”

  “Do you have to argue with everything I say?”

  Kristoff ground to a halt as if to think. “I don’t know.” he answered in sincerity. “Maybe only when you don’t immediately agree with me.”

  Amelia sighed. “Right, lead on.”

  They continued their journey into the warehouse district towards the dock
s at an astonishing pace, clean even sidewalks giving way to cracked concrete and finally the crumbles that had become white gravel. Eventually, they came to a nondescript brick factory building that couldn’t have been used in the last century.

  “Are you some psychopathic killer? I hope not, I’m trained in martial arts.”

  Kristoff appeared to cover a snort. “I’m sure you are. And very good at it. Luckily this building is monitored by private security 24/7 and there are plenty of people inside to hear you scream.” Then he yanked her through the service door at the side of the rough stained bricks.

  Amelia staggered through the door only to realize what he had brought her for. The factory had been broken into separate studios. It was one of the old buildings sold as art space. She looked around in awe. Everywhere there were different little nooks filled with people doing different things. Pottery, smelting, painting, photography. But her moment to gawk only lasted so long, because Kristoff dragged her further in to a large walled-in nook in the back. Turning he gestured around to his little studio. “Like it?” Amelia carefully eyed the drying prints and the small closet she assumed was used as a darkroom.

  “I think, one of our activities will be to work here. Together.”

  “Have you seen steelwork? It’s large…”

  “Then just start with your planning stages and if you decide to stick around we’ll take the steel outside when it’s nice. I’ll give you one of my keys to get in and out if you ever want to come alone. Consider my sharing space with you as a gift in appreciation for your time.”

  “I thought my time was being exchanged for your hat,” Said Amelia uneasily, she hadn’t worked in a long time, and this smelled more like a handout than a job. Kristoff seemed to catch on to her hesitation.

  “How about this? As part of our agreement, I want a sculpture of something I photograph. I will cover materials. But you are wasting yourself out there!”

  “You really don’t want a sculpture from me.”

  “But I do. Why question it?”

  “Alright, it’s your time and money. You pay me for the materials and I’ll do it.”

  A huge grin split Kristoff’s face. “Good, now let’s go hunt subjects.” He unlocked a cabinet, pulled out an 80’s solid film Nikon, and gestured for her to leave.