Beso de la Muerte (Kiss of Death)
Author: Tracy Vettier-Chevalier

*Disclaimer in Chapter One.


    Chapter Three:

    After five hours on a plane, even the midget airport in Acapulco,Mexico 
was a welcome change. Normally, I hate airports. Okay, so I only started 
hating them when Edward, my bestest assassin buddy, called in a favor and I 
was exposed to too much Western decor while simultaneously almost being 
killed several times, but I still hate airports
.
    I walked through the terminal with my suit jacket unbuttoned and the 
Browning visible. I didn't have a clue about the gun laws in Mexico, but I 
had a carry permit, and wasn't in the mood to get hassled. Usually, that 
meant I'd keep the jacket buttoned so that no one saw the gun, but have you 
ever been in Acapulco during the summer with a buttoned suit jacket on? Two 
words: Heat stroke.

    So the gun was visible. Jean-Claude was too smart to comment on it, but 
once again, Richard saved him the trouble. 
    "Anita, is that really necessary?" He asked, giving me his best stern 
teacher look. Mrs. Pringle's was better. Then again, she'd had fifty or so 
years to practice it.

    To my credit, I didn't say anything rude to him. In fact, I didn't say 
anything at all. Okay, so I glared. Sue me. 

    Richard had a kicked puppy look on his face when I snatched my suitcase 
off of the conveyor belt at the baggage claim and walked off, leaving him to 
either catch up, or stand there and wait for World War III. He caught up. 
    Jean-Claude was walking beside me, his steps more of a rolling glide than 
an actual walk. I was feeling like a klutz with my suitcase banging into the 
back of my knee every other step I took, but I'd be damned if I was going to 
ask either of them to carry it for me. One, I could carry my own damn 
suitcase. I'm female, not helpless. Two, the suitcase had just about every 
gun I owned in it. If something jumped out and tried to eat me, I wanted 
access to the guns. Paranoid, who me?

    Jean-Claude took the lead when we walked outside, gesturing for Richard 
and I to stay put. If I'd had a clue where the hell I was, I would have 
ignored him. But, since we could have been on the far side of the moon for 
all I knew, I stayed put. Who says I haven't learned anything?
    Richard was looking at me oddly, and being the patient person I am, I 
snapped. "What?"

    He just shook his head. "You've changed."

    I fought the urge to roll my eyes."Everyone changes,Richard. It's called 
life."

    He shook his head again. "No. This is different. You seem...harder."

    "Did Jean-Claude tell you what happened in Albuquerque?" I asked.

    "No," Richard said,looking confused.

    "Edward called in his favor," I said.

    "For killing his backup?" He asked.

    I nodded.

    "Shit. What was so bad that Death needed backup?" Richard looked 
horrified, and I hadn't even told him yet. Funny how anything to do with 
Edward automatically spooks him now. He used to think Edward was a pussycat.
    "A vampire that thought it was a god. It skinned people and used the 
skins as clothing for its servants. The people it didn't want, it tore apart. 
I managed to keep one of its zombies from eating a nursery full of babies at 
the hospital, but it almost killed me, from more than ten miles away,Richard. 
And then I got to meet it up close and personal, when it wanted to sacrifice 
me," I told him.

    He didn't seem to know what to make of all of that. "What are you trying 
to say,Anita?"

    "I'm still alive, so quit bitching." I made it a statement.

    Richard sighed and turned away from me, watching the people walk in and 
out of the airport. I couldn't see his face, but I had a sneaking suspicion 
that he looked a lot like the Big Bad Wolf eyeing Little Red Riding Hood as 
he watched the crowd. I don't think he ever caught on to the hungry look he 
got when he watched a crowd. I'd seen it a lot. Usually I was on the 
receiving end of that look, from one beastie or another. 

    After a few more minutes, I started scanning the crowd. Where the fuck 
was Jean-Claude?

    I put my suitcase down on the pavement and sat on it, my right hand 
casually on my hip, as close to my gun as I could get without holding a sign 
that said 'arrest me, I'm armed'.

    A moment later, Jean-Claude sauntered out of the crowd, toward us. He 
didn't look too happy. Joy. Now what?

    <The Master of the City wants to meet you, ma petite.> I jumped like I'd 
been stung at hearing his voice in my head. 

    Richard had an odd look on his face. Made me wonder if he'd heard the 
same thing I had. 

    When Jean-Claude was close enough that I wouldn't have to yell to talk to 
him, I stood up and stalked over him, standing close enough that our bodies 
almost touched. Sometimes, it made me want to jump his bones, now, I was just 
pissed. 

    "Next time you have something to tell me, say it. But stay the fuck out 
of my head, or I'll bust your ass just on principle," I hissed into his face.
    Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow,looking slightly amused. "Very well, ma 
petite. The Master wishes to meet you. He has acknowledged you as he would 
another Master, so you have the right to refuse. But, it could cause 
complications."

    "Complications? What kind of fucking vacation is this?" I asked.

    "Such language, ma petite. If it were a vampire and his servant in our 
city, we would request audience as well. No Master worth his position would 
let strange people into his territory without meeting them to see what their 
intentions were. And you are too well known now for anyone not to request to 
meet with you," Jean-Claude said softly. 

    We were close enough that if I stood on tiptoe, I could have kissed him. 
Or bit him. Biting was more his thing though. 
    I took a step back, so he wasn't in my personal space. "Fine. I'll go see 
him, whoever he is. But after that, I want to spend the rest of this trip on 
the beach."

    "Of course, ma petite." Jean-Claude smiled
.
    I shook my head and went to get my suitcase off of the sidewalk before 
someone took off with it. This trip was a seriously fucked up idea, I 
thought, and I hadn't even gotten out of the airport yet. Shit.
Kiss of Death: Part IV
Trace's Diary