Agent Down Blog Tour Materials
Thank you for taking part in Agent of Change Blog Tour!
Below you'll find:
Please let us know when you post and send us a link at [email protected] so we can add it to our blog tour and, more importantly, share the heck out of it!
Wishing you all the best!
Echo Shea and Mindy Mymudes
Let's Talk Promotions
Psst...Promotions
Know someone not part of our blogger list, that might be interested? Click here!
Below you'll find:
- A blog tour Schedule
- A Potential Twitter Post with a Twitter-sized graphic.
- A Potential Instagram Post with an Instagram-sized graphic.
- A Potential Facebook Post with an Facebook-sized graphic.
- A Potential Blog Post.
- An HTML Blog post to Copy and Paste when you'd love to share, but you're in a hurry. (We've all been there.)
- A listing of: buy links, blogger run giveaway, rafflecopter, Blurb, about author, and excerpts. Please only use the excerpt assigned to you. (If you'd like an excerpt, get in contact with Echo at [email protected] and we'll see about getting you something for your blog--the more the merrier!)
Please let us know when you post and send us a link at [email protected] so we can add it to our blog tour and, more importantly, share the heck out of it!
Wishing you all the best!
Echo Shea and Mindy Mymudes
Let's Talk Promotions
Psst...Promotions
Know someone not part of our blogger list, that might be interested? Click here!
Blog Tour Schedule:
June 6
Echo's Tales
June 7
Adventures in Self-Publishing
June 8
Taming Chaos
June 9
Writing Cave Corner
Nikki's Book Nook
June 10
Always Loved Books
Echo's Tales
June 7
Adventures in Self-Publishing
June 8
Taming Chaos
June 9
Writing Cave Corner
Nikki's Book Nook
June 10
Always Loved Books
Twitter Post:
While she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
Agent of Chaos by @JanetWaldenWest is out now!
http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
#urbanfantasy #newrelease #newbook #paranormalromance #southwestthriller #booktwt #BookRecommendation #BlogTour #BookTwitter #BookBoost
Agent of Chaos by @JanetWaldenWest is out now!
http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
#urbanfantasy #newrelease #newbook #paranormalromance #southwestthriller #booktwt #BookRecommendation #BlogTour #BookTwitter #BookBoost
Instagram Post:
Liv:
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: April 30, 2022
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B09H2BDCVC
ISBN-13: 978-1737219057
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: April 30, 2022
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B09H2BDCVC
ISBN-13: 978-1737219057
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
Facebook Post:
Liv:
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: April 30, 2022
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B09H2BDCVC
ISBN-13: 978-1737219057
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
Haven't started the Region Two Series yet? Then by all means, check out the series on Amazon: http://mybook.to/RegionTwoSeries
#bookstagram #UrbanFantasy #ParanormalRomance #bookseries #BookBoost #blogtour #booklove #bookrecommendation #newrelease #bookrelease #newrelease2021
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: April 30, 2022
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B09H2BDCVC
ISBN-13: 978-1737219057
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
Haven't started the Region Two Series yet? Then by all means, check out the series on Amazon: http://mybook.to/RegionTwoSeries
#bookstagram #UrbanFantasy #ParanormalRomance #bookseries #BookBoost #blogtour #booklove #bookrecommendation #newrelease #bookrelease #newrelease2021
Blog Post:
Liv:
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: April 30, 2022
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B09H2BDCVC
ISBN-13: 978-1737219057
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: April 30, 2022
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B09H2BDCVC
ISBN-13: 978-1737219057
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
Rafflecopter:
<a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/663e462b3/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="663e462b3" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_qml7um68">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Janet Walden-West lives in the Southeast with a pack of show dogs, a couple of kids, and a husband who didn’t read the fine print. A member of the East Tennessee Creative Writers Alliance, she is also a founding member of The Million Words craft blog. She pens inclusive Contemporary Romance and Urban Fantasy. As a two-time Pitch Wars alum turned Pitch Wars 2019 Mentor, Sherrilyn Kenyon scholarship recipient, and Golden Heart® finalist, she believes in paying it forward by supporting burgeoning Southern writers.
She is represented by Eva Scalzo of Speilburg Literary Agency.
Find more about her at janetwaldenwest.weebly.com or on social media.
Janet Walden-West lives in the Southeast with a pack of show dogs, a couple of kids, and a husband who didn’t read the fine print. A member of the East Tennessee Creative Writers Alliance, she is also a founding member of The Million Words craft blog. She pens inclusive Contemporary Romance and Urban Fantasy. As a two-time Pitch Wars alum turned Pitch Wars 2019 Mentor, Sherrilyn Kenyon scholarship recipient, and Golden Heart® finalist, she believes in paying it forward by supporting burgeoning Southern writers.
She is represented by Eva Scalzo of Speilburg Literary Agency.
Find more about her at janetwaldenwest.weebly.com or on social media.
HTML Post:
<img data-file-id="6010337" height="960" src="https://mcusercontent.com/db46d89a669bcc0564562defc/images/0e8c094f-b577-8b0b-c13c-32985692a215.jpg" style="border: 0px ; width: 640px; height: 960px; margin: 0px;" width="640" /><br />
<br />
Liv:<br />
I have to be perfect.<br />
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.<br />
<br />
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.<br />
<br />
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.<br />
<br />
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?<br />
<br />
<br />
Marshall:<br />
All I ever do is screw up.<br />
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.<br />
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.<br />
<br />
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.<br />
<br />
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.<br />
This time, screwing up isn't an option.<br />
<br />
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.<br />
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.<br />
<br />
<font><strong>Print Length:</strong> 637 pages<br />
<strong>Publication Date:</strong> April 30, 2022<br />
<strong>Genre:</strong> Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy<br />
<strong>Language:</strong> English<br />
<strong>ASIN:</strong> </font>B09H2BDCVC<br />
<font><strong>ISBN-13:</strong> </font>978-1737219057<br />
<font><strong>Order on Amazon:</strong> </font>http://mybook.to/AgentChaos<br />
<strong>Pre-Order the next in the Series: </strong>mybook.to/AgentofChange<br />
<br />
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: <a href="http://author.to/JanetWaldenWest" target="_blank">author.to/JanetWaldenWest</a> or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com <strong>(Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)<br />
<br />
<br />
<a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/663e462b3/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="663e462b3" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_qml7um68">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<br />
<br />
<img data-file-id="5688668" height="922" src="https://mcusercontent.com/db46d89a669bcc0564562defc/images/c22ab4d9-a255-8c31-b0e1-30ebe5d9103d.jpg" style="border: 0px ; width: 800px; height: 922px; margin: 0px;" width="800" /></strong><br />
<br />
<font>ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<br />
Janet Walden-West lives in the Southeast with a pack of show dogs, a couple of kids, and a husband who didn’t read the fine print. A member of the East Tennessee Creative Writers Alliance, she is also a founding member of The Million Words craft blog. She pens inclusive Contemporary Romance and Urban Fantasy. As a two-time Pitch Wars alum turned Pitch Wars 2019 Mentor, Sherrilyn Kenyon scholarship recipient, and Golden Heart® finalist, she believes in paying it forward by supporting burgeoning Southern writers.<br />
She is represented by Eva Scalzo of Speilburg Literary Agency.</font><br />
<br />
<font>Find more about her at <a href="http://janetwaldenwest.weebly.com/" target="_blank">janetwaldenwest.weebly.com</a> or on social media.</font>
<br />
Liv:<br />
I have to be perfect.<br />
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.<br />
<br />
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.<br />
<br />
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.<br />
<br />
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?<br />
<br />
<br />
Marshall:<br />
All I ever do is screw up.<br />
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.<br />
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.<br />
<br />
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.<br />
<br />
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.<br />
This time, screwing up isn't an option.<br />
<br />
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.<br />
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.<br />
<br />
<font><strong>Print Length:</strong> 637 pages<br />
<strong>Publication Date:</strong> April 30, 2022<br />
<strong>Genre:</strong> Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy<br />
<strong>Language:</strong> English<br />
<strong>ASIN:</strong> </font>B09H2BDCVC<br />
<font><strong>ISBN-13:</strong> </font>978-1737219057<br />
<font><strong>Order on Amazon:</strong> </font>http://mybook.to/AgentChaos<br />
<strong>Pre-Order the next in the Series: </strong>mybook.to/AgentofChange<br />
<br />
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: <a href="http://author.to/JanetWaldenWest" target="_blank">author.to/JanetWaldenWest</a> or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com <strong>(Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)<br />
<br />
<br />
<a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/663e462b3/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="663e462b3" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_qml7um68">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script>
<br />
<br />
<img data-file-id="5688668" height="922" src="https://mcusercontent.com/db46d89a669bcc0564562defc/images/c22ab4d9-a255-8c31-b0e1-30ebe5d9103d.jpg" style="border: 0px ; width: 800px; height: 922px; margin: 0px;" width="800" /></strong><br />
<br />
<font>ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<br />
Janet Walden-West lives in the Southeast with a pack of show dogs, a couple of kids, and a husband who didn’t read the fine print. A member of the East Tennessee Creative Writers Alliance, she is also a founding member of The Million Words craft blog. She pens inclusive Contemporary Romance and Urban Fantasy. As a two-time Pitch Wars alum turned Pitch Wars 2019 Mentor, Sherrilyn Kenyon scholarship recipient, and Golden Heart® finalist, she believes in paying it forward by supporting burgeoning Southern writers.<br />
She is represented by Eva Scalzo of Speilburg Literary Agency.</font><br />
<br />
<font>Find more about her at <a href="http://janetwaldenwest.weebly.com/" target="_blank">janetwaldenwest.weebly.com</a> or on social media.</font>
Info Quick Find:
Blogger Run Giveaway:
For those that selected giveaway on the form, you're authorized to giveaway one e-copy of Agent Down by Janet Walden-West to one of your blog readers. This is a giveaway outside of the Rafflecopter, just for your readers.
Buy Links:
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentChaos
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Rafflecopter:
HTML:
<a class="rcptr" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/663e462b3/" rel="nofollow" data-raflid="663e462b3" data-theme="classic" data-template="" id="rcwidget_qml7um68">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
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URL: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/663e462b3/?
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Book Blurb:
Liv:
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: August 31, 2021
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B0952FX3SR
ISBN-13: 978-1-7372190-3-3
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentDown
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
I have to be perfect.
Perfect agent. Perfect Commanding Officer. Follow every rule to the letter, since HQ already expects my new ragtag team to crash and burn.
With the cryptid situation pushing my bare-bones team to its limits, I don’t need a stray civilian whose goal seems to be getting himself killed on my watch. Marshall throws himself between people and danger like his life doesn’t matter.
Except, for some reason, he matters to me.
Even if the giant redhead’s touch reminds me I’m more than my Command position, how can I risk his life and my team’s chance at success just for the sake of my happiness?
Marshall:
All I ever do is screw up.
With jobs. With people. Especially with people.
Definitely with the crazy-beautiful superhero-soldier who takes down my vampire boss—who, no, I didn’t know was a vampire.
Ending up in her custody, at a secret base full of other perfect super-soldiers? Custom-made opportunity for me to mess something up. But Liv sees through my weirdness to the real me.
Now, I’ve gotta show her rules are made to be broken and that while she’s protecting everyone else, I’ll be protecting her.
This time, screwing up isn't an option.
Trained from birth to defend humanity, the members of Company Alpha Cryptid Containment protect Region Two from that which goes bump in the night.
But protecting their hearts? That's a whole different story.
Print Length: 637 pages
Publication Date: August 31, 2021
Genre: Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
Language: English
ASIN: B0952FX3SR
ISBN-13: 978-1-7372190-3-3
Order on Amazon: http://mybook.to/AgentDown
Pre-Order the next in the Series: mybook.to/AgentofChange
Love the Region Two Series and want keep up with Janet's next release? Follow Janet on Amazon here: author.to/JanetWaldenWest or go to her website and sign-up for her newsletter: www.janetwaldenwest.weebly.com (Note: If you sign-up for her newsletter, you'll get the Region Two prequel, Agent Alone as a sign-up bonus. Who could resist?)
Author Bio:
Janet Walden-West lives in the Southeast with a pack of show dogs, a couple of kids, and a husband who didn’t read the fine print. A member of the East Tennessee Creative Writers Alliance, she is also a founding member of The Million Words craft blog. She pens inclusive Contemporary Romance and Urban Fantasy. As a two-time Pitch Wars alum turned Pitch Wars 2019 Mentor, Sherrilyn Kenyon scholarship recipient, and Golden Heart® finalist, she believes in paying it forward by supporting burgeoning Southern writers.
She is represented by Eva Scalzo of Speilburg Literary Agency.
Find more about her at janetwaldenwest.weebly.com or on social media.
She is represented by Eva Scalzo of Speilburg Literary Agency.
Find more about her at janetwaldenwest.weebly.com or on social media.
Excerpts:
Excerpt One
Marshall sucked in and edged around the stacked boxes filling what should’ve been a wide-open OSHA-compliant kitchen hallway, but still banged a knee, causing a pallet of flour sacks to bump against the industrial pantry door.
“Watch what the hell you’re doing.” Jenkins glared at Marshall.
As far as Marshall could see, the guy didn’t report to the head chef or the kitchen’s boss-boss, but he was always around in the evenings.
“I could move this stuff in where it belongs,” Marshall muttered. He was already working late, way after the kitchen closed, same as every night since he started here a couple of weeks earlier. Not that the extra hours were reflected in his check. But somebody—probably him—was gonna break their neck trying to squeeze through the cluttered passageway.
All the stacked supplies belonged in the pantry but nobody except this guy and the head chef had been allowed inside since Marshall started working here.
“Mind your damn business and do your job,” Jenkins ordered, like he was management. Except management didn’t wear jeans and long-sleeved shirts with weird bulges under both armpits. “Get done and get out, unless you want fired. Boss is checking in tonight.”
Because he needed the cash, Marshall kept his mouth shut and didn’t point out that unloading after-hours wasn’t a line cook’s job, and shouldered through the door for today’s piled up deliveries. Except for cold stuff, none of the drop-offs were allowed in until after closing, either.
Even close to one a.m., the Mesa heat hadn’t dissipated, trapped between the kitchen and hotel outbuilding’s walls. The set-up created a wide, depressing alley.
At a sharp pop, followed by a click, Marshall hesitated. The layout left this area darker than the night was naturally, but it was more like a cave tonight. When the sound didn’t repeat, he stepped into the lot.
Something other than pitted concrete crunched under his sneakers. Glass from the two weak security lights that illuminated the lot now littered the ground. Unease skittered up his spine. The bulbs had been fine when his took his break a couple of hours earlier.
Marshall sucked in and edged around the stacked boxes filling what should’ve been a wide-open OSHA-compliant kitchen hallway, but still banged a knee, causing a pallet of flour sacks to bump against the industrial pantry door.
“Watch what the hell you’re doing.” Jenkins glared at Marshall.
As far as Marshall could see, the guy didn’t report to the head chef or the kitchen’s boss-boss, but he was always around in the evenings.
“I could move this stuff in where it belongs,” Marshall muttered. He was already working late, way after the kitchen closed, same as every night since he started here a couple of weeks earlier. Not that the extra hours were reflected in his check. But somebody—probably him—was gonna break their neck trying to squeeze through the cluttered passageway.
All the stacked supplies belonged in the pantry but nobody except this guy and the head chef had been allowed inside since Marshall started working here.
“Mind your damn business and do your job,” Jenkins ordered, like he was management. Except management didn’t wear jeans and long-sleeved shirts with weird bulges under both armpits. “Get done and get out, unless you want fired. Boss is checking in tonight.”
Because he needed the cash, Marshall kept his mouth shut and didn’t point out that unloading after-hours wasn’t a line cook’s job, and shouldered through the door for today’s piled up deliveries. Except for cold stuff, none of the drop-offs were allowed in until after closing, either.
Even close to one a.m., the Mesa heat hadn’t dissipated, trapped between the kitchen and hotel outbuilding’s walls. The set-up created a wide, depressing alley.
At a sharp pop, followed by a click, Marshall hesitated. The layout left this area darker than the night was naturally, but it was more like a cave tonight. When the sound didn’t repeat, he stepped into the lot.
Something other than pitted concrete crunched under his sneakers. Glass from the two weak security lights that illuminated the lot now littered the ground. Unease skittered up his spine. The bulbs had been fine when his took his break a couple of hours earlier.
Excerpt Two
Marshall stopped. Made himself hold his breath for a second, then let it out into the warm night air. No breathing too fast, no setting off the cycle that made his body think there was more to panic about than the low-level buzz of anxiety that was his day-to-day life.
Last thing he needed was losing another job so soon. The head chef here was okay enough. The kitchen manager though, Marshall’s boss, was a jerk.
Like thinking it conjured the guy, Kincaid’s sharp voice barked from inside. “What is this shit? I had orders to make sure this place was empty by one, which means you damn well had orders to have it clear by one.”
“Not my fault your employee is slow as hell,” Jenkins answered, then his tone did a fast one-eighty. “Sorry, sir. I’ll have this taken care of, and goods prepared for you in a moment.”
Marshall grabbed the biggest box, his size coming in handy, balancing the weight on one arm and catching the door with his heel before it closed and locked him out, which would for sure get him canned, from the irritated sound of Kincaid’s voice. As for Kincaid’s boss—Marshall wasn’t sure, but assumed he was one of the hotel owners. The one time he’d met the man, Marshall hadn’t been able to get away fast enough from the frigid gaze, hairs rising on his neck at being the focus of the guy’s attention.
Soft thumps sounded behind Marshall, almost lost under the argument indoors.
He twisted to look over his shoulder—and a force like one of the forklifts he’d used in a past job rammed him. A hand viced around his elbow, whirling him in a hard arc, creating a dizzy wall-people-wall-again kaleidoscope.
His back slammed against the wall, the box falling and containers of dry pasta clattering to the pavement.
Marshall blinked against a sudden glare—some kind of purple light, blazing in his face, blinding him. It swept from his face down his body, accompanied by a faint mechanical hum and then a beep.
“Human,” a clipped male voice announced, and the light disappeared.
Marshall blinked against after-images, eyes watering. A sliver of light from the hallway, the door now held open by something other than Marshall’s shoe, didn’t much help. He tried straightening. He wasn’t up for whatever crap Jenkins was pulling. Punching the guy would probably have the same result as actually punching his real boss, but whatever.
A heavy hand rammed him back against the wall. “Don’t move.”
Marshall’s vision cleared enough to pick out a tall outline—and a gun barrel aimed at him.
Marshall stopped. Made himself hold his breath for a second, then let it out into the warm night air. No breathing too fast, no setting off the cycle that made his body think there was more to panic about than the low-level buzz of anxiety that was his day-to-day life.
Last thing he needed was losing another job so soon. The head chef here was okay enough. The kitchen manager though, Marshall’s boss, was a jerk.
Like thinking it conjured the guy, Kincaid’s sharp voice barked from inside. “What is this shit? I had orders to make sure this place was empty by one, which means you damn well had orders to have it clear by one.”
“Not my fault your employee is slow as hell,” Jenkins answered, then his tone did a fast one-eighty. “Sorry, sir. I’ll have this taken care of, and goods prepared for you in a moment.”
Marshall grabbed the biggest box, his size coming in handy, balancing the weight on one arm and catching the door with his heel before it closed and locked him out, which would for sure get him canned, from the irritated sound of Kincaid’s voice. As for Kincaid’s boss—Marshall wasn’t sure, but assumed he was one of the hotel owners. The one time he’d met the man, Marshall hadn’t been able to get away fast enough from the frigid gaze, hairs rising on his neck at being the focus of the guy’s attention.
Soft thumps sounded behind Marshall, almost lost under the argument indoors.
He twisted to look over his shoulder—and a force like one of the forklifts he’d used in a past job rammed him. A hand viced around his elbow, whirling him in a hard arc, creating a dizzy wall-people-wall-again kaleidoscope.
His back slammed against the wall, the box falling and containers of dry pasta clattering to the pavement.
Marshall blinked against a sudden glare—some kind of purple light, blazing in his face, blinding him. It swept from his face down his body, accompanied by a faint mechanical hum and then a beep.
“Human,” a clipped male voice announced, and the light disappeared.
Marshall blinked against after-images, eyes watering. A sliver of light from the hallway, the door now held open by something other than Marshall’s shoe, didn’t much help. He tried straightening. He wasn’t up for whatever crap Jenkins was pulling. Punching the guy would probably have the same result as actually punching his real boss, but whatever.
A heavy hand rammed him back against the wall. “Don’t move.”
Marshall’s vision cleared enough to pick out a tall outline—and a gun barrel aimed at him.
Excerpt Three:
“There’s no cash here,” Marshall squeezed out, heart rate ramping up.
He’d never been in a restaurant robbery but everybody had stories about managers and owners being held up as they were leaving with the day’s take. “I swear. We only cook,” he added.
A soft curse met his announcement. Another voice, feminine, level, and in charge came from his right. “Stay here. Don’t move, don’t make any noise, and you’ll be safe. Understand?”
“I—” He squinted. Other outlines joined them. The speaker, and a third, throwing a big shadow. Even bigger than Marshall.
All of them in gray and black camo, like some kind of urban soldiers in his favorite video game. All carrying very real guns.
“Understand?” That in-charge voice asked again.
“Yeah. Yes.” He swallowed, throat trying to close around the words.
“Good. How many are inside?”
After a silent beat, Marshall realized she was asking him. Mouth dry, he got out, “Jenkins. My manager, Kincaid, and him. Mister Welch.”
“Welch?”
“The—the hotel owner. I think.” Marshall couldn’t miss the shared looks, and his unease climbed higher.
She—the leader, had to be—asked, “Weapons?”
“What? We’re just the kitchen. For room service and stuff. There’s—we don’t have weapons or cash.”
His information earned another curse, but the leader’s shadow motioned, and the grip holding Marshall in place vanished.
“Be still. Be quiet. You should be secure out here.”
Nothing, not the guns, the movie-villain uniforms, the bruise probably already forming on his back, led Marshall to believe her.
The other two took opposite sides of the doorway. She held up fingers, folding them down one at a time. Three, two, one, and at zero, the three surged inside, her in the lead, the door crashing open in a bong of abused metal.
The quiet graveyard shift exploded in noise and lights. Flashes bright as daylight. A scream, like a wounded—or angry—animal rose.
Even he recognized the rapid bark of bullets. Concrete dust flew, peppering down on Marshall. Chips striking arms he’d throne up to shield his face. Bullets coming from inside, fired his way.
He pushed off the stupid wall, sprinting out of the way. And tripped over pasta boxes, his knees slamming against concrete and the shattered security lights. Sending him sprawling into the hallway. Into the middle of a nightmare come to life.
Jenkins, in front, between the kitchen and pantry, gun out—the bulge Marshall had seen under the guy’s shirt. Shooting at the soldiers. And Marshall.
Then, so was Marshall’s boss, a sleek gun in hand, acting like he knew how to use it.
Him, Mister Welch—materialized. Just there, where there had been empty space. He jerked on the heavy, reinforced metal pantry door. It groaned, metal tearing and hanging by one hinge.
Then the hall was empty again. Screams echoed from the opened storage room. Female. High-pitched.
Welch reappeared. Hauling two smaller figures, women, their hair wrapped in his fist.
And the hotel owner hissed, suddenly less…human. Face gaunt as a cadaver, skin almost translucent and showing the bones underneath. Too-pointed teeth shone from between blackened lips. Brown eyes blazing an impossible silver.
“There’s no cash here,” Marshall squeezed out, heart rate ramping up.
He’d never been in a restaurant robbery but everybody had stories about managers and owners being held up as they were leaving with the day’s take. “I swear. We only cook,” he added.
A soft curse met his announcement. Another voice, feminine, level, and in charge came from his right. “Stay here. Don’t move, don’t make any noise, and you’ll be safe. Understand?”
“I—” He squinted. Other outlines joined them. The speaker, and a third, throwing a big shadow. Even bigger than Marshall.
All of them in gray and black camo, like some kind of urban soldiers in his favorite video game. All carrying very real guns.
“Understand?” That in-charge voice asked again.
“Yeah. Yes.” He swallowed, throat trying to close around the words.
“Good. How many are inside?”
After a silent beat, Marshall realized she was asking him. Mouth dry, he got out, “Jenkins. My manager, Kincaid, and him. Mister Welch.”
“Welch?”
“The—the hotel owner. I think.” Marshall couldn’t miss the shared looks, and his unease climbed higher.
She—the leader, had to be—asked, “Weapons?”
“What? We’re just the kitchen. For room service and stuff. There’s—we don’t have weapons or cash.”
His information earned another curse, but the leader’s shadow motioned, and the grip holding Marshall in place vanished.
“Be still. Be quiet. You should be secure out here.”
Nothing, not the guns, the movie-villain uniforms, the bruise probably already forming on his back, led Marshall to believe her.
The other two took opposite sides of the doorway. She held up fingers, folding them down one at a time. Three, two, one, and at zero, the three surged inside, her in the lead, the door crashing open in a bong of abused metal.
The quiet graveyard shift exploded in noise and lights. Flashes bright as daylight. A scream, like a wounded—or angry—animal rose.
Even he recognized the rapid bark of bullets. Concrete dust flew, peppering down on Marshall. Chips striking arms he’d throne up to shield his face. Bullets coming from inside, fired his way.
He pushed off the stupid wall, sprinting out of the way. And tripped over pasta boxes, his knees slamming against concrete and the shattered security lights. Sending him sprawling into the hallway. Into the middle of a nightmare come to life.
Jenkins, in front, between the kitchen and pantry, gun out—the bulge Marshall had seen under the guy’s shirt. Shooting at the soldiers. And Marshall.
Then, so was Marshall’s boss, a sleek gun in hand, acting like he knew how to use it.
Him, Mister Welch—materialized. Just there, where there had been empty space. He jerked on the heavy, reinforced metal pantry door. It groaned, metal tearing and hanging by one hinge.
Then the hall was empty again. Screams echoed from the opened storage room. Female. High-pitched.
Welch reappeared. Hauling two smaller figures, women, their hair wrapped in his fist.
And the hotel owner hissed, suddenly less…human. Face gaunt as a cadaver, skin almost translucent and showing the bones underneath. Too-pointed teeth shone from between blackened lips. Brown eyes blazing an impossible silver.
Excerpt Four:
Jenkins stared at the monstrosity that looked like it had crawled out of grave. Then, mouth working, turned his gun on their boss.
In one swipe of his hand—now claws like something out of a really good special effects show—Jenkins’ throat was gone.
Blood spraying, covering the pallets of flour. Spattering the two women, and the floor.
Kincaid darted behind Welch, into the pantry. Not freaking out, not scared of the man-demon-thing. A woman spilled out of the room a second later. Cowering from the gun Kincaid held.
As soon as the soldier leader saw, she held up a hand. Barked, “Hostages. We can’t risk it.”
The other two soldiers dropped their guns. The rifles on straps, slipping around and out of the way in a smooth motion.
Maybe it was over. Done.
Except they, the three in uniforms, hadn’t been shooting to begin with. They seemed to be trying not to kill people. The overhead fluorescent lights bounced off the gleaming blades in their hands. After a life in kitchens, knives were one thing Marshall did know.
The huge guy’s looked more like the knives kitchens used to butcher whole carcasses.
Bile and fear climbed up Marshall’s throat, threatening to erupt.
After that, it was a chaotic, disjointed blur. Knives. Screams. People scrambling past the fighters, lost. One hesitated in front of Marshall. A woman. Dark hair, pale face, eyes enormous and full of tears. Terrified.
Marshall knew terror, almost as well as he did knives.
The woman turned to run. The wrong way, into the fight.
Marshall hustled, getting in front of her. “No, here, this way. Outside. Go outside.” Somehow words made it out of his mouth, over numb lips and he held out a hand to her.
She shrank away, and spoke Spanish. But it was too fast for him and his limited kitchen Spanish.
“Sorry.” He kept his hands to himself and pointed out, at the opening where the door had been. To the alley and freedom, and motioned again. Probably mangled it with his cruddy vocabulary, but added, “Safe. Outside is safe. Hurry.”
The woman grabbed another woman, shoving her in the right direction. But she pulled back, speaking to her friend, tears leaving tracks down her cheeks, and both turned back for the room.
No,no,no,no. “Hey, no. Wrong direction—” Marshal caught a few words as the women spoke to each other.
Marshall did understand one word, and froze, cold sweat popping out. Kid. There was a kid still inside. And the mom or sisters weren’t leaving. Were probably going back in. Right between a team of soldier-assassins, and his jerk manager’s gun and…whatever the hotel owner was.
Purposely not thinking, shoving everything, including the rising panic away, trying to blank emotions and chaos out, Marshall whirled. Ran for the storage room that had at least one person, maybe more. All of them scared and probably with no idea of the layout, and if they went right, it’d be straight into the fight.
Jenkins stared at the monstrosity that looked like it had crawled out of grave. Then, mouth working, turned his gun on their boss.
In one swipe of his hand—now claws like something out of a really good special effects show—Jenkins’ throat was gone.
Blood spraying, covering the pallets of flour. Spattering the two women, and the floor.
Kincaid darted behind Welch, into the pantry. Not freaking out, not scared of the man-demon-thing. A woman spilled out of the room a second later. Cowering from the gun Kincaid held.
As soon as the soldier leader saw, she held up a hand. Barked, “Hostages. We can’t risk it.”
The other two soldiers dropped their guns. The rifles on straps, slipping around and out of the way in a smooth motion.
Maybe it was over. Done.
Except they, the three in uniforms, hadn’t been shooting to begin with. They seemed to be trying not to kill people. The overhead fluorescent lights bounced off the gleaming blades in their hands. After a life in kitchens, knives were one thing Marshall did know.
The huge guy’s looked more like the knives kitchens used to butcher whole carcasses.
Bile and fear climbed up Marshall’s throat, threatening to erupt.
After that, it was a chaotic, disjointed blur. Knives. Screams. People scrambling past the fighters, lost. One hesitated in front of Marshall. A woman. Dark hair, pale face, eyes enormous and full of tears. Terrified.
Marshall knew terror, almost as well as he did knives.
The woman turned to run. The wrong way, into the fight.
Marshall hustled, getting in front of her. “No, here, this way. Outside. Go outside.” Somehow words made it out of his mouth, over numb lips and he held out a hand to her.
She shrank away, and spoke Spanish. But it was too fast for him and his limited kitchen Spanish.
“Sorry.” He kept his hands to himself and pointed out, at the opening where the door had been. To the alley and freedom, and motioned again. Probably mangled it with his cruddy vocabulary, but added, “Safe. Outside is safe. Hurry.”
The woman grabbed another woman, shoving her in the right direction. But she pulled back, speaking to her friend, tears leaving tracks down her cheeks, and both turned back for the room.
No,no,no,no. “Hey, no. Wrong direction—” Marshal caught a few words as the women spoke to each other.
Marshall did understand one word, and froze, cold sweat popping out. Kid. There was a kid still inside. And the mom or sisters weren’t leaving. Were probably going back in. Right between a team of soldier-assassins, and his jerk manager’s gun and…whatever the hotel owner was.
Purposely not thinking, shoving everything, including the rising panic away, trying to blank emotions and chaos out, Marshall whirled. Ran for the storage room that had at least one person, maybe more. All of them scared and probably with no idea of the layout, and if they went right, it’d be straight into the fight.
Excerpt Five:
Marshall grabbed the edge of the doorframe, stopping himself as his shoes skidded. He hung his head inside, lights off in the room, turning it into some pitch-dark pit.
One filled with the scuff of people moving. Sobs. Wherever these people had come from, they needed help. The best help he could give was showing them a way out, and let them, and him, get away while the people with guns and giant knives were busy.
Marshall swung into the room, keeping to the crescent of light from the hallway lights that only penetrated a few feet in. He held his arms out, hopefully showing he wasn’t armed, wasn’t part of whatever was going on not even a whole room away. Then almost threw up for real, just enough light to show at least a half dozen frightened faces. And the kid. A boy, in a cartoon tee.
Marshall made himself into a crowd control barrier, using his body to help block the hall leading inside, and did his best with his broken Spanish, waving people out, trying to tell them which way was safe. Hoping he wasn’t wrong.
Goosebumps crawling over his entire body, way too aware he had his back to …criminals, at the very least. Whether it was because Marshall looked as freaked out and scared as they did, or only the lesser of the evils, an older lady turned to the group and as soon as she spoke, the entire bunch streamed for Marshall and the door. He covered as much space as possible, doing his best to keep anyone from going the wrong way, pointing to the outdoors. The older lady was last, pushing the boy along in front of her.
As they cleared the building, Marshall gathered himself, following. Getting out and watching their backs, in case. His heels cleared the exit threshold.
For the second time in one night, Marshall was flung out of the way, harder than with the giant soldier, his head rapping the outer concrete wall. Pain flared from the impact. Welch kept going, not even seeming to notice he’d elbowed Marshall out of the way. The hotel owner was moving too fast. His passing creating a freaky breeze, tugging curls into Marshall’s face.
Marshall jumped as another body flashed into the hall, one in a suit. The guy who always drove Welch, and held doors for him.
The man’s attention whipped to Marshall. Those stomach-churning, unearthly silver eyes pinning Marshall in place. Teeth—that lengthened to fangs—slid from the not-guy’s mouth. He—it—snarled. Not a human sound.
The blood pounding in Marshall’s temples meshed with the growl.
Claws sprouted, as quickly as the fangs had. Visions of Jenkins, throat ripped out, filled Marshall.
Marshall grabbed the edge of the doorframe, stopping himself as his shoes skidded. He hung his head inside, lights off in the room, turning it into some pitch-dark pit.
One filled with the scuff of people moving. Sobs. Wherever these people had come from, they needed help. The best help he could give was showing them a way out, and let them, and him, get away while the people with guns and giant knives were busy.
Marshall swung into the room, keeping to the crescent of light from the hallway lights that only penetrated a few feet in. He held his arms out, hopefully showing he wasn’t armed, wasn’t part of whatever was going on not even a whole room away. Then almost threw up for real, just enough light to show at least a half dozen frightened faces. And the kid. A boy, in a cartoon tee.
Marshall made himself into a crowd control barrier, using his body to help block the hall leading inside, and did his best with his broken Spanish, waving people out, trying to tell them which way was safe. Hoping he wasn’t wrong.
Goosebumps crawling over his entire body, way too aware he had his back to …criminals, at the very least. Whether it was because Marshall looked as freaked out and scared as they did, or only the lesser of the evils, an older lady turned to the group and as soon as she spoke, the entire bunch streamed for Marshall and the door. He covered as much space as possible, doing his best to keep anyone from going the wrong way, pointing to the outdoors. The older lady was last, pushing the boy along in front of her.
As they cleared the building, Marshall gathered himself, following. Getting out and watching their backs, in case. His heels cleared the exit threshold.
For the second time in one night, Marshall was flung out of the way, harder than with the giant soldier, his head rapping the outer concrete wall. Pain flared from the impact. Welch kept going, not even seeming to notice he’d elbowed Marshall out of the way. The hotel owner was moving too fast. His passing creating a freaky breeze, tugging curls into Marshall’s face.
Marshall jumped as another body flashed into the hall, one in a suit. The guy who always drove Welch, and held doors for him.
The man’s attention whipped to Marshall. Those stomach-churning, unearthly silver eyes pinning Marshall in place. Teeth—that lengthened to fangs—slid from the not-guy’s mouth. He—it—snarled. Not a human sound.
The blood pounding in Marshall’s temples meshed with the growl.
Claws sprouted, as quickly as the fangs had. Visions of Jenkins, throat ripped out, filled Marshall.
Excerpt Six:
A shout, a human one, rattled down the hallway. The thing whirled, bass growl filtering through the soles of Marshall’s feet, right into his bones.
The monster, snarling at her, the leader. Marshall’s pulse spiked and he pushed the start of a warning out, to tell her this wasn’t a person. To run before it got her. He took a step in her direction. He could grab her, pull her this way. At least distract the creature and give her time.
The silver of her knife moved so fast, it left after-images. The thing shrieked and its head lolled to the side. Another swing, blade whistling, and the head separated. It rolled to drop by Marshall’s feet, blood spraying across the toes of his Chucks.
Marshall raised his eyes from the impossible, gory scene, to hers. The soldier-assassin and her blood-coated knife.
Marshall backed, shoulder blades grinding into the wall. Fighting the blackness, iron band tightening around his chest, cutting off his air. Not able to remember breathing exercises, how to break the cycle. Not with a killer looming in front of him.
Panic crested.
Her lips moved, but sound didn’t get past the panic. Then she was in front of him, knife gone. Brown eyes were the last thing he saw, before the dark closed over him, one he might not live to surface from this time, surrounded by murderers and monsters.
A shout, a human one, rattled down the hallway. The thing whirled, bass growl filtering through the soles of Marshall’s feet, right into his bones.
The monster, snarling at her, the leader. Marshall’s pulse spiked and he pushed the start of a warning out, to tell her this wasn’t a person. To run before it got her. He took a step in her direction. He could grab her, pull her this way. At least distract the creature and give her time.
The silver of her knife moved so fast, it left after-images. The thing shrieked and its head lolled to the side. Another swing, blade whistling, and the head separated. It rolled to drop by Marshall’s feet, blood spraying across the toes of his Chucks.
Marshall raised his eyes from the impossible, gory scene, to hers. The soldier-assassin and her blood-coated knife.
Marshall backed, shoulder blades grinding into the wall. Fighting the blackness, iron band tightening around his chest, cutting off his air. Not able to remember breathing exercises, how to break the cycle. Not with a killer looming in front of him.
Panic crested.
Her lips moved, but sound didn’t get past the panic. Then she was in front of him, knife gone. Brown eyes were the last thing he saw, before the dark closed over him, one he might not live to surface from this time, surrounded by murderers and monsters.
Excerpt Seven:
Chapter 2
Liv
“Crud.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, although the blossoming headache was the least of my problems at the moment.
First, a civilian where, according to our intel, there shouldn’t be one. Then a dead secondary human target. Plus a dead vampire, only a lowly worker, and the ranking vampire was in the wind. Clearly a Master, whose power had flickered around us like stinging sparks.
All on top of aiding and resettling the traumatized women and children, people the Master and his trash human accomplice had been trafficking. The people were the reason for our mission tonight. Today, now.
“It’s not that bad, Liv.” Jace, my lieutenant, cracked his neck, side to side, dispelling the last of the post-mission tension, same as after every fight.
That I finally knew one of my team’s quirks and habits was a sliver of comfort.
A small comfort. “Not that bad wouldn’t mean an escaped Master vampire with an in to organized crime, and his trafficking ring still viable. He’ll move to another spot, another front or shell business, and keep moving human product.”
Any Master that old and adept could’ve provided another piece of the puzzle to the inexplicable recklessness among vampires. Infecting people, then turning the new vampires loose to indiscriminately hunt, garner Company attention, and die.
Passing along the virus that mutated a human into a vampire required very specific conditions, primarily a Master vampire over a decade old, the point where the virus was fully matured. Even then, it was tricky, draining a human close to the point of death but not so far that organ failure occurred, before being infected. The majority of attempts still failed.
At least, it had until recently. Now we had a population boom. As well as starving, sick vampires, when neither condition should be possible. This Master might’ve been a key to the odd behavior ghouls were suddenly showing, and migration shifts occurring with windigo hordes. We now believed those anomalies were somehow also tied to the vampires.
Not bad also wouldn’t mean an innocent civilian bystander being subjected to a violent altercation, and then discovering vampires existed.
We policed cryptids, natural animals who shared the biological ability, like a chameleon, to go unseen. Many also possessed attributes that could be weaponized, the whole reason for Company Alpha’s existence. We prevented cryptids from coming to public notice, and protected civilians from any of the predatory cryptids sharing the humans’ biome.
Technically, vampires weren’t vampires, as our science crews pointed out every time an agent slipped up and used the slang. Nor were they cryptids. But, vicious, drank blood among other things, and healed quickly. So, vampires.
I frowned, but not at the human in front of us, probably a chef or kitchen worker, from the simple white jacket, now spotted with brown stains and grime. He still crouched in an unresponsive ball, where he’d basically dropped. On my watch, due in part to my actions.
He hadn’t even twitched when I’d draped the reflective emergency blanket around him—two blankets, and even then, barely enough to cover his wide shoulders and chest—or when I checked his pulse and BP.
He had been like this for almost an hour. Long enough for us to check the victims for injuries, reassure them that we were the good guys, and help process them while Cleaners decontaminated the scene, disappearing evidence in their analytical, detailed fashion.
I edged back as another van pulled in, crew hopping out the instant it stopped. One agent opened the rear, revealing a pristine match to the destroyed metal pantry door inside, victim of an enraged vampire. The Intel arm at HQ would’ve had no problem pulling up building information—we‘d already had the schematics, part of planning the mission.
Technically, our part was done. There were Company paramedics, and a counselor, on-scene to help the victims as Sera, the head of the closest Company safehouses, sorted them into units.
The healthcare workers were swamped though, dealing with the victims. Passing out water and food, answering questions, helping call any relatives or friends. At least none of the women had seen their human captors morph into monsters. As far as the women knew, this was an all-human crime. Which made it easier on them—they would be reunited with family and go home. Or we would help find them a new, safer one if they had fled their homes to avoid danger.
Chapter 2
Liv
“Crud.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, although the blossoming headache was the least of my problems at the moment.
First, a civilian where, according to our intel, there shouldn’t be one. Then a dead secondary human target. Plus a dead vampire, only a lowly worker, and the ranking vampire was in the wind. Clearly a Master, whose power had flickered around us like stinging sparks.
All on top of aiding and resettling the traumatized women and children, people the Master and his trash human accomplice had been trafficking. The people were the reason for our mission tonight. Today, now.
“It’s not that bad, Liv.” Jace, my lieutenant, cracked his neck, side to side, dispelling the last of the post-mission tension, same as after every fight.
That I finally knew one of my team’s quirks and habits was a sliver of comfort.
A small comfort. “Not that bad wouldn’t mean an escaped Master vampire with an in to organized crime, and his trafficking ring still viable. He’ll move to another spot, another front or shell business, and keep moving human product.”
Any Master that old and adept could’ve provided another piece of the puzzle to the inexplicable recklessness among vampires. Infecting people, then turning the new vampires loose to indiscriminately hunt, garner Company attention, and die.
Passing along the virus that mutated a human into a vampire required very specific conditions, primarily a Master vampire over a decade old, the point where the virus was fully matured. Even then, it was tricky, draining a human close to the point of death but not so far that organ failure occurred, before being infected. The majority of attempts still failed.
At least, it had until recently. Now we had a population boom. As well as starving, sick vampires, when neither condition should be possible. This Master might’ve been a key to the odd behavior ghouls were suddenly showing, and migration shifts occurring with windigo hordes. We now believed those anomalies were somehow also tied to the vampires.
Not bad also wouldn’t mean an innocent civilian bystander being subjected to a violent altercation, and then discovering vampires existed.
We policed cryptids, natural animals who shared the biological ability, like a chameleon, to go unseen. Many also possessed attributes that could be weaponized, the whole reason for Company Alpha’s existence. We prevented cryptids from coming to public notice, and protected civilians from any of the predatory cryptids sharing the humans’ biome.
Technically, vampires weren’t vampires, as our science crews pointed out every time an agent slipped up and used the slang. Nor were they cryptids. But, vicious, drank blood among other things, and healed quickly. So, vampires.
I frowned, but not at the human in front of us, probably a chef or kitchen worker, from the simple white jacket, now spotted with brown stains and grime. He still crouched in an unresponsive ball, where he’d basically dropped. On my watch, due in part to my actions.
He hadn’t even twitched when I’d draped the reflective emergency blanket around him—two blankets, and even then, barely enough to cover his wide shoulders and chest—or when I checked his pulse and BP.
He had been like this for almost an hour. Long enough for us to check the victims for injuries, reassure them that we were the good guys, and help process them while Cleaners decontaminated the scene, disappearing evidence in their analytical, detailed fashion.
I edged back as another van pulled in, crew hopping out the instant it stopped. One agent opened the rear, revealing a pristine match to the destroyed metal pantry door inside, victim of an enraged vampire. The Intel arm at HQ would’ve had no problem pulling up building information—we‘d already had the schematics, part of planning the mission.
Technically, our part was done. There were Company paramedics, and a counselor, on-scene to help the victims as Sera, the head of the closest Company safehouses, sorted them into units.
The healthcare workers were swamped though, dealing with the victims. Passing out water and food, answering questions, helping call any relatives or friends. At least none of the women had seen their human captors morph into monsters. As far as the women knew, this was an all-human crime. Which made it easier on them—they would be reunited with family and go home. Or we would help find them a new, safer one if they had fled their homes to avoid danger.
Excerpt Eight:
Guilt nibbled at me. I’d never done much of the dealing with civilians tasks. Partially, because Vee, my sister, was entranced by civi pop-culture and took any chance to interact with them. Partially because we had been that good, meaning few botched missions resulting in witnesses.
But that precision and those teammates were a thing of my past. I pushed aside the old flare of hurt and anger.
I had a new team, one I’d put together. Matteo, Jace, and I. The men sole survivors from two different teams, casualties of cryptids changing their behaviors, and the upsurge in vampires. I was a lieutenant turned C.O. who seemingly willingly left a team, the people I’d grown up with from nursery to Academy barracks. They were my family, and we’d been teammates from the time we were kids.
Now, we were leftovers.
Matteo joining us knocked me out of my poor-me loop. He sipped on a soda clearly liberated from the medic’s stash, can looking more like a preschooler’s toy in his big hand. Soda and snacks, part of the effort to prove we weren’t another set of traffickers or out to exploit the victims.
Seeing me, another woman who looked like them, had also helped. Not so much with the kitchen worker, though.
Matteo’s gaze followed mine, to the civi, worry scrunching his face “Oh, damn. He saw the vampire. Did we break him?”
I switched from what was going right, to what wasn’t. Fingers tapping, putting facts together, I said what we were all thinking. “He had a full-blown panic attack. I didn’t find any meds in his pockets, though. The only two cars here belong to the manager, and the Master, this Welch. I did find a bus pass.”
As we spoke, the man’s hand twitched, then opened and closed like he was trying to get circulation back. The first movement or acknowledgment that there was an outside world, since his attack began.
We’d all had emergency medical training, but… my gaze swept the crowd off to one end of the hotel lot. Sera was deep in conversation with one of the victims, one whose face was still tear streaked.
“We’re going to have to take point.” I crooked my finger at Jace, who nodded.
Out of the three of us, he had the best rapport with civis. He stretched, long arms over his head, and put on his ‘Hey, I’m a totally harmless, completely likeable guy’ face and headed for our civilian.
I didn’t need to hear whatever Jace said as he squatted and touched the man’s elbow. The results spoke for themselves. The man shoved heels into the cracked black top, trying to put distance between himself and Jace. Possibly still lost in what triggered his attack. Which, soldiers, monsters, vampires, take your pick.
“Aww, damn.” Matteo started forward, then glanced at me. “If Jace freaks him out…”
Yeah. If pretty, genial Jace was frightening, a walking wall of muscle like Matteo was right out.
I dredged up everything I could remember from our crisis and EMT courses, while double-timing it to switch places with Jace. He moved before I asked, giving me an embarrassed shrug.
Guilt nibbled at me. I’d never done much of the dealing with civilians tasks. Partially, because Vee, my sister, was entranced by civi pop-culture and took any chance to interact with them. Partially because we had been that good, meaning few botched missions resulting in witnesses.
But that precision and those teammates were a thing of my past. I pushed aside the old flare of hurt and anger.
I had a new team, one I’d put together. Matteo, Jace, and I. The men sole survivors from two different teams, casualties of cryptids changing their behaviors, and the upsurge in vampires. I was a lieutenant turned C.O. who seemingly willingly left a team, the people I’d grown up with from nursery to Academy barracks. They were my family, and we’d been teammates from the time we were kids.
Now, we were leftovers.
Matteo joining us knocked me out of my poor-me loop. He sipped on a soda clearly liberated from the medic’s stash, can looking more like a preschooler’s toy in his big hand. Soda and snacks, part of the effort to prove we weren’t another set of traffickers or out to exploit the victims.
Seeing me, another woman who looked like them, had also helped. Not so much with the kitchen worker, though.
Matteo’s gaze followed mine, to the civi, worry scrunching his face “Oh, damn. He saw the vampire. Did we break him?”
I switched from what was going right, to what wasn’t. Fingers tapping, putting facts together, I said what we were all thinking. “He had a full-blown panic attack. I didn’t find any meds in his pockets, though. The only two cars here belong to the manager, and the Master, this Welch. I did find a bus pass.”
As we spoke, the man’s hand twitched, then opened and closed like he was trying to get circulation back. The first movement or acknowledgment that there was an outside world, since his attack began.
We’d all had emergency medical training, but… my gaze swept the crowd off to one end of the hotel lot. Sera was deep in conversation with one of the victims, one whose face was still tear streaked.
“We’re going to have to take point.” I crooked my finger at Jace, who nodded.
Out of the three of us, he had the best rapport with civis. He stretched, long arms over his head, and put on his ‘Hey, I’m a totally harmless, completely likeable guy’ face and headed for our civilian.
I didn’t need to hear whatever Jace said as he squatted and touched the man’s elbow. The results spoke for themselves. The man shoved heels into the cracked black top, trying to put distance between himself and Jace. Possibly still lost in what triggered his attack. Which, soldiers, monsters, vampires, take your pick.
“Aww, damn.” Matteo started forward, then glanced at me. “If Jace freaks him out…”
Yeah. If pretty, genial Jace was frightening, a walking wall of muscle like Matteo was right out.
I dredged up everything I could remember from our crisis and EMT courses, while double-timing it to switch places with Jace. He moved before I asked, giving me an embarrassed shrug.
Excerpt Nine:
I kept my hands to myself as I knelt. The man’s harsh, frantic breathing made my chest hurt.
“Sir, you are safe, I promise.” I made my voice soothing and non-threatening.
I tried to see it from his perspective. Three black ops storming his kitchen. An aborted firefight. Plus, vampires—couldn’t forget to add those.
And me, practically decapitating one in his lap, no disguising what it was or what I’d done. I winced at that misstep.
That hadn’t been optimal, much like our performance, but it had been necessary. Jace had wounded the vampire, but it hadn’t been a lethal shot since he’d been aiming for the Master. Who had tossed his underling in front of Jace as a living shield.
An injured vampire was vicious. One wounded by our weapons, all containing an alloy of the chem-compound toxic to cryptid and vampire physiology, was desperate and ready to feed on anything nearby in order to fuel its cellular regeneration.
In this case, the wrecked guy in front of me. The one I’d seen sending the victims to freedom amongst the chaos, using himself as a safety barrier between the women and a pitched battle. Hands down, it was ranked in the top two as the bravest thing I’d ever seen a civilian do, the other being my sister’s then-civilian fiancé stand in an empty park in order to lure a sentient, apex cryptid out of hiding. Bruce had already discovered cryptids though, as opposed to having one pop up in his world and go for his jugular.
I dug in a thigh pocket and came out with the too-brave-for-his-own-good worker’s wallet, taken while checking him out earlier. I needed to forge some kind of connection with him. I flipped the nylon square open and angled it to one of the halogen lights from the Cleaner’s makeshift base of operations. Marshall Tate, six-two, Caucasian, blue, and red. License issued in Illinois.
“Mister Tate, I’m Agent Muñez.” Maybe giving him a title could convince him I wasn’t an armed criminal. “Mister Tate, is there anything I can do to help? Is there any medication you need? I can go inside for it if it’s in a locker or the office. Our EMTs are here, but they’re occupied at the moment.”
He didn’t answer, but he did stop attempting to merge with the wall behind him in order to get away.
I had a flash, one of my brother Josh. Us sitting up and talking about nonsense all night, a few nights in a row, after a power line fell during one of our early missions and he was trapped in a space barely large enough to stand in until HQ activated an Asset and had the power grid shut down.
If my talking eased some of Mister Tate’s well-founded fear, I’d talk until I lost my voice. “Mister Tate, I apologize for our roughness earlier. We were led to believe the only persons present were traffickers, and their captives who were secured in a room alone. I made an assumption, and I was wrong. You aren’t a hostile and I truly am sorry you were caught in our raid. We’ll have our medic check you out soon, sir.”
“Marshall.”
I froze, processing his low, rough response. Marshall. His first name. Right. “Marshall…” What next? This so wasn’t my sub-specialty. On impulse, I said, “I’m Olivia. Liv to my friends.”
I kept my hands to myself as I knelt. The man’s harsh, frantic breathing made my chest hurt.
“Sir, you are safe, I promise.” I made my voice soothing and non-threatening.
I tried to see it from his perspective. Three black ops storming his kitchen. An aborted firefight. Plus, vampires—couldn’t forget to add those.
And me, practically decapitating one in his lap, no disguising what it was or what I’d done. I winced at that misstep.
That hadn’t been optimal, much like our performance, but it had been necessary. Jace had wounded the vampire, but it hadn’t been a lethal shot since he’d been aiming for the Master. Who had tossed his underling in front of Jace as a living shield.
An injured vampire was vicious. One wounded by our weapons, all containing an alloy of the chem-compound toxic to cryptid and vampire physiology, was desperate and ready to feed on anything nearby in order to fuel its cellular regeneration.
In this case, the wrecked guy in front of me. The one I’d seen sending the victims to freedom amongst the chaos, using himself as a safety barrier between the women and a pitched battle. Hands down, it was ranked in the top two as the bravest thing I’d ever seen a civilian do, the other being my sister’s then-civilian fiancé stand in an empty park in order to lure a sentient, apex cryptid out of hiding. Bruce had already discovered cryptids though, as opposed to having one pop up in his world and go for his jugular.
I dug in a thigh pocket and came out with the too-brave-for-his-own-good worker’s wallet, taken while checking him out earlier. I needed to forge some kind of connection with him. I flipped the nylon square open and angled it to one of the halogen lights from the Cleaner’s makeshift base of operations. Marshall Tate, six-two, Caucasian, blue, and red. License issued in Illinois.
“Mister Tate, I’m Agent Muñez.” Maybe giving him a title could convince him I wasn’t an armed criminal. “Mister Tate, is there anything I can do to help? Is there any medication you need? I can go inside for it if it’s in a locker or the office. Our EMTs are here, but they’re occupied at the moment.”
He didn’t answer, but he did stop attempting to merge with the wall behind him in order to get away.
I had a flash, one of my brother Josh. Us sitting up and talking about nonsense all night, a few nights in a row, after a power line fell during one of our early missions and he was trapped in a space barely large enough to stand in until HQ activated an Asset and had the power grid shut down.
If my talking eased some of Mister Tate’s well-founded fear, I’d talk until I lost my voice. “Mister Tate, I apologize for our roughness earlier. We were led to believe the only persons present were traffickers, and their captives who were secured in a room alone. I made an assumption, and I was wrong. You aren’t a hostile and I truly am sorry you were caught in our raid. We’ll have our medic check you out soon, sir.”
“Marshall.”
I froze, processing his low, rough response. Marshall. His first name. Right. “Marshall…” What next? This so wasn’t my sub-specialty. On impulse, I said, “I’m Olivia. Liv to my friends.”
Excerpt Ten:
“The lady up front, Sera? She is the director of a shelter. She’s taking everyone in, where they can rest, shower, and meet their family. Most have already called friends or family. You can go ask them.”
Marshall’s gaze dropped. To my hand, holding his.
Crud. I let go fast. “I apologize.”
“It’s—you’re okay.” He chewed at his abused lip. “My Spanish isn’t that good. They’re safe? Nobody will—my boss. What was he doing with them?”
I tried skirting the question. “They’ll be reunited with family, or we’ll help find them a place and job if it’s safer here.”
“Safer from being kidnapped. They were kidnapped.”
That definitely wasn’t a question.
I nodded. “Basically.”
“That’s why we couldn’t open the industrial pantry.”
“I’m afraid larger restaurants make effective clearing houses for trafficking. People flow in, and it’s easy to claim they are kitchen workers. A few came willingly, promised jobs, but their papers are held as blackmail. Others were sold into it. A few were flat out snatched of the street.” My temper notched up at the ordeal they’d been through, and I tried sticking to facts. “Workers are faceless to most people looking in from the outside.”
“Yeah. We’re not important.”
I didn’t know what that meant. Marshall clearly wasn’t an immigrant. His dull, flat remark sounded more like the people we usually helped, people who had been abused or taken advantage of.
I felt the moment when Marshall made the next, logical connection. “My boss—”
“He’s in custody.” I eyed the last SUV in the crowded alley. No need to add I’d knocked the guy out and zip tied him, and Matteo had not-so-gently dumped him in the cargo area. Humans who betrayed their own, sold them out to vampires—oh, then used them as a shield on top off the other atrocities—none of us had any kindness to spare.
We protected humans, but had little jurisdiction over them. After whatever Company members we had in the local LEO—law enforcement organization—deemed they’d gotten all the information on the vampires involved in the crimes, the civi criminal would be dealt with by human agencies.
I braced for what came next, as Marshall spoke. “The owner, my manager’s boss. Mister Welch—” his throat worked.
Civilians always had trouble with this part, plus the man had already had a trying day. As matter of fact as possible, I said it. “Welch was a vampire, masquerading as a human. A very powerful vampire, and highly placed in associated human and vampire criminal circles, as well.”
I stopped myself reaching out to him again. Civis weren’t usually as physical as the average Company-raised person, a fact I had trouble remembering, or understanding. “He is gone, but you’re with us and in no danger right now. We will apprehend him, no matter how long it takes, or the resources needed.”
“It’s…okay again, right? This is all done. For us, the regular people, and I can go.”
Under those too kind, too hopeful eyes, I wanted to say yes and promise that his brush with what civis saw as monsters was over. But I couldn’t.
“The lady up front, Sera? She is the director of a shelter. She’s taking everyone in, where they can rest, shower, and meet their family. Most have already called friends or family. You can go ask them.”
Marshall’s gaze dropped. To my hand, holding his.
Crud. I let go fast. “I apologize.”
“It’s—you’re okay.” He chewed at his abused lip. “My Spanish isn’t that good. They’re safe? Nobody will—my boss. What was he doing with them?”
I tried skirting the question. “They’ll be reunited with family, or we’ll help find them a place and job if it’s safer here.”
“Safer from being kidnapped. They were kidnapped.”
That definitely wasn’t a question.
I nodded. “Basically.”
“That’s why we couldn’t open the industrial pantry.”
“I’m afraid larger restaurants make effective clearing houses for trafficking. People flow in, and it’s easy to claim they are kitchen workers. A few came willingly, promised jobs, but their papers are held as blackmail. Others were sold into it. A few were flat out snatched of the street.” My temper notched up at the ordeal they’d been through, and I tried sticking to facts. “Workers are faceless to most people looking in from the outside.”
“Yeah. We’re not important.”
I didn’t know what that meant. Marshall clearly wasn’t an immigrant. His dull, flat remark sounded more like the people we usually helped, people who had been abused or taken advantage of.
I felt the moment when Marshall made the next, logical connection. “My boss—”
“He’s in custody.” I eyed the last SUV in the crowded alley. No need to add I’d knocked the guy out and zip tied him, and Matteo had not-so-gently dumped him in the cargo area. Humans who betrayed their own, sold them out to vampires—oh, then used them as a shield on top off the other atrocities—none of us had any kindness to spare.
We protected humans, but had little jurisdiction over them. After whatever Company members we had in the local LEO—law enforcement organization—deemed they’d gotten all the information on the vampires involved in the crimes, the civi criminal would be dealt with by human agencies.
I braced for what came next, as Marshall spoke. “The owner, my manager’s boss. Mister Welch—” his throat worked.
Civilians always had trouble with this part, plus the man had already had a trying day. As matter of fact as possible, I said it. “Welch was a vampire, masquerading as a human. A very powerful vampire, and highly placed in associated human and vampire criminal circles, as well.”
I stopped myself reaching out to him again. Civis weren’t usually as physical as the average Company-raised person, a fact I had trouble remembering, or understanding. “He is gone, but you’re with us and in no danger right now. We will apprehend him, no matter how long it takes, or the resources needed.”
“It’s…okay again, right? This is all done. For us, the regular people, and I can go.”
Under those too kind, too hopeful eyes, I wanted to say yes and promise that his brush with what civis saw as monsters was over. But I couldn’t.
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