Evil Red (6 page)

“If I attempt to leave town agents will hunt me down
and bring me back,” she continued. “Even if I could get away I
wouldn’t want to. The diseases you inflicted on me to try and get
the toxin to work would turn me into one of those creatures if I
didn’t have the monthly antidote.”

Melcher nodded.

“
Besides,
”
Valerie said smiling.
“Being an undercover agent in the fight against the demonic plague
is one the greatest honors on earth.”

The organizations words, not hers, but Melcher looked
pleased.

Let him be smug.

Valerie knew how to handle men. It was all a matter
of manipulation by any means. The means to Melcher was his pride in
the organization. If Valerie did her job well and supported the
organization outwardly, she’d have Melcher wrapped around her
finger in no time.

Vampires, agents,
men
… didn’t matter, deep down they were all driven by vanity
and ego.

CUT TO:

Turned out not only was Valerie’s car new, it had
come in cherry red. She was the most beautiful thing that Valerie
had ever laid eyes on. And she was hers, all hers.

Maybe this agent thing wasn’
t so bad.

Now they needed to work on her accommodations and
wardrobe.

At least Kennick, Valerie’
s warden, wasn
’t like Agent Crist. She was
older, mid-forties, and left Valerie alone, as though she had been
forced into this arrangement as much as Valerie.

There had been clothes waiting in the dresser and
closet of Valerie’s new room. Kennick said Crist had supplied
these. Figured. The drawers were stacked with corset tops, black
stockings, velvet and mesh T-shirts, and foo-foo skirts
with—gag—
ruffles.

The closet floor was lined with knee-high boots and
Mary Jane pumps—every pair black, everything black except for a
touch of red or purple here and there.

She already had the wheels, so Valerie figured her
next step was to earn her own apartment and with it, a wardrobe
that could be worn on days besides Halloween.

All she needed to do is dangle the bait, herself, in
front of this supposedly hard-to-get vamp, and then she’d submit
her list of demands.

Before she knew it, the morning of the first day of
school arrived. She’d tried on all the clothes, settling on a
short-sleeved, scoop-necked lace top that was cute enough.
Everything looked good on Valerie, which was no surprise for a
5’7”, full-busted woman curvier than a fifteenth century courtesan.
That ought to play in her favor. She’d read in Francesco’s file
that he was from Italy originally.

Odds were Valerie only had to look at Fane Boy and
he’d come running.

That was going to make the informant before her look
really bad.

Valerie smiled to herself.

CUT TO:

EXT. ANCHORAGE NEIGHBORHOOD—MORNING

Valerie didn’t need the GPS to direct her to Denali
High School. Kennick’s house was only seven minutes from school.
The drive took her past lush green lawns accented by woodsy patches
that looked like over-sized Christmas trees. She reached the drab
one-story school building and followed the flow of traffic into a
huge parking lot. From what Valerie could see, there were no
courtyards or outdoor eating areas. Students stood across the
street smoking. Depressing concrete walkways led up to the building
from each end of the parking lot.

Without textbooks, there was no reason to go to her
locker.

Melcher had already picked up her class schedule.
Valerie had two out of six periods with Fane, beginning with first
period gym. There were really only two words for gym first
hour.

Hell no!

Valerie could most likely out run and out play
everyone in the entire school after boot camp, but heaven would
burn before she spent the rest of her school day all sweaty and
gross.

Students congregated in the gymnasium, taking seats
on the bleacher. The chatter was about as pleasant as nails on
chalkboard. It was senior year, so naturally everyone knew each
other.

Valerie strut over to the bleachers, stopping in
front of two timid looking girls who moved apart when they noticed
Valerie waiting. Valerie lifted her leg over the first seat then
proceeded to make her way to the very back row where she could keep
a lookout for Fane Donado.

Melcher had advised her to take the first week
easy—acclimate to her new environment. He’d check in at the end of
the week to see how she was adjusting.

Naturally, Valerie wanted to report back on Friday
that not only had she settled into senior year, but already had
Fane under her thumb.

That ought to earn her the keys to her own place.

The warning bell rang, followed a minute later by the
class bell. A balding guy with a gut walked over with a volleyball
squeezed under his arm and introduced himself as Mr. Mooney, their
P.E. teacher. Why were gym teachers always pudgy? Probably because
they stood around with a ball under their arm and a whistle between
their lips watching, rather than participating in physical
education.

As Mr. Mooney began jabbering out a welcome and what
to expect speech, Valerie tried not to pick at her red nail polish.
Fane Donado was a no-show unless she’d somehow missed his entrance.
It was a little hard to double-check students when all she had were
the back of heads to go on. Then again, his bleached blond mop
would have singled him out quicker than a student raising their
hand at roll call.

Mr. Mooney didn’t bother with attendance on the first
day, and neither, apparently, did Fane.

Valerie left first period feeling agitated and sour.
The feeling magnified when Fane made no appearance in their mutual
math class. If she were to bag this one by the end of the week,
she’d need a real live interaction with him. Vampires were so
inconsiderate.

CUT TO:

INT. GIRLS’ LOCKER ROOM—DAY

The second morning of senior year, Valerie headed to
the locker rooms. In no uncertain terms, Mr. Mooney said he
expected everyone to dress down for gym the next day.

Valerie had already put a call into Melcher demanding
he get her out of gym or, at the very least, excuse her from
participating. B.O. and flirting did not mix. At least Melcher had
understood that.

Still, she didn’t want the bitches in the locker room
to think that Valerie Ward was timid or shy about her body. So she
dressed down even though she had no plans on participating.

Valerie unlaced her corset top, back to the wall of
lockers on the far end of the girl’s locker room. Once loosened,
she slipped it off languidly, folding it in half and placing it
delicately inside her locker.

The one thing Crist had gotten right was her
lingerie--matching black lace bra and panty sets that were sexy as
sin. Apparently the witch did expect Valerie to spread her legs,
despite what Melcher said to the contrary.

Crist could kiss Valerie’s ass. These lace panties
weren’t coming off for some ancient blood sucker. He could look all
he wanted so long as he didn’
t
touch her.

Valerie took a tube of lipstick from her purse and
strut over to the bathroom mirror in her bra and short ruffled
skirt.

Planting herself directly in the middle of the wide
mirror, Valerie twisted her lipstick open and coated her lips in
red, smacking when she finished.

The rest of the girls were still changing while
Valerie blotted her lips with tissues from one of the stalls and
returned to finger comb her red locks.

A group of girls in the center of the locker room
chattered and squealed with laughter every ten seconds. All the
other girls gave them a wide birth. Clearly these chicks thought
they ruled the roost.

Valerie glanced at them only occasionally in the
mirror. Their high pitched laughter already grated on her nerves
without having to watch them swing their high pony tails. Besides,
she always got distracted in front of mirrors.

Possessing a set of size C breasts by age fifteen was
one of the greatest perks a young woman could hope for. The twins
bounced back in the mirror’s reflection looking nothing short of
miraculous in the black demi push-up bra, not that they needed any
help in the perky department.

A blonde broke away from her group, sneakers
squeaking over the linoleum floor as she made her way to the mirror
with a hairbrush. Blondie glanced at Valerie than back at her
friends who raised their brows and snickered. The girl took a spot
beside Valerie, brushing through her high pony tail and getting her
elbow unacceptably close to Val as she did so.

Time to lay down the law.

Valerie turned suddenly. “You gonna keep staring at
my boobs or what? Why don’t you take a picture? It will last
longer.”

“What?” the girl shrieked, nearly dropping her brush.
“I wasn’t staring.”

Valerie straightened her back, her breasts lifting as
she did so. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I only date men.”

The girl’s mouth opened and closed. Her eyes flashed
with horror. “I wasn’t staring. I like guys!”

“Whatever you say.”

None of the girl’s friends said a word to defend her.
They quickly averted their eyes.

Like taking scissors from a baby.

Playing the gay card was the oldest trick in the
book. People were nothing if not predictable when it came to their
homophobic fears. It was the Achilles heel on every teenager.
Sad.

If chicks wanted to be intolerant, it served them
right if they got caught under the fire of Valerie’s secret weapon.
Val couldn’t care less about same sex partners. She’d kissed a
number of girls before. Some women were simply too charismatic to
resist. Maybe it was her L.A. upbringing, but Valerie already knew
she was going to clash like red on orange with bush-whacking
Alaskans.

Goldilocks quickly retreated to the safety of her
group. Conversations had stopped, replaced with the metallic slam
of locker doors and squeak of shoes as girls hustled out to the
gymnasium. No one said a word to Valerie. And no one got near the
mirror. No doubt that’s how things would remain throughout the
year.

High school was no different from prison. You either
had to beat someone up or beat them down within the first week to
show the other classmates that you were a person best avoided or,
at the very least, left the hell alone.

Valerie smacked her lips one last time then returned
to her locker. She decided to skip the black T-shirt and put the
corset top back on. She’d like to see Mr. Mooney try and make her
play volleyball in that.

Valerie joined her classmates in the gymnasium. Some
of the guys had gotten basketballs out and were shooting hoops
before the bell rang. Everyone else stood in clusters along the
edge of the court. Then there was the bleachers, empty except for
four guys dressed all in black.

The photo Valerie had seen of Fane could have been
taken earlier that morning. His hair was exactly the same: jet
black and buzzed on the sides, bleached blond and thick on top. He
was neither too fat nor too thin, which was about the only good
thing Valerie could pick out at the moment.

He wore solid black from his long leather coat down
to his ankle high Doc Martins. Did Crist supply his wardrobe as
well? Valerie snorted to herself before making her way over to the
bleachers.

The guys leaned into Fane, who showed them something
on his phone. The boys threw their heads back and laughed. As
Valerie approached, one of the boys nodded his head and said,
“Hey.”

“Hey,” Valerie said, taking a seat one row in front
and to the right of their little group.

The other guys ignored Valerie, including Fane. She
spent the rest of the period ignoring him back all while stretching
her legs onto the bench in front of her, leaning back and,
occasionally, playing with her hair.

They didn’t need to speak. Not yet. Valerie was
simply making her presence known.

Besides, Fane probably didn’t want to risk getting
shot down in front of his friends. Otherwise he would have no doubt
taken the spot beside her and tried to find out who she was.

Fane ignored her again in math. Clearly Valerie was
going to have to make the first move. Some guys needed an extra
nudge. Fane was turning out to be one of them. Valerie should count
herself lucky he wasn’t trying to attack her.

Fane was an entirely different species altogether,
and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle him yet.

When lunch hour came around, Valerie stepped outside
for a smoke across the street. Today she caught sight of a familiar
leather jacket and streak of blond hair.

And there it was. The perfect opportunity to ensnare
Fane Donado. Little did Fane know it was his lucky day.

Valerie stuffed her pack of Virginia Slims inside her
purse and sashayed her way to the sidewalk then crossed the street,
directly across two lanes, not bothering to walk down to the
crosswalk first.

Fane wasn’t alone, which was unfortunate, but luckily
he had only one minion beside him at the moment—a considerably
short one at that. Fane towered above the boy. They looked like
senior and freshman having a smoke together.

Fane took a long drag off his cigarette before
expelling smoke into the air.

Rather than hang out in the vicinity, Valerie took
the direct approach this round.

“Hello, boys. Got a cigarette I can bum?”

Fane stuck his cigarette between his lips and looked
Valerie up and down. His eyes narrowed in annoyance, which was the
last thing Valerie had expected. Maintaining a beguiling smile
under such circumstances required practiced care.

Fane pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and
lowered it to his side.