36. Ivory Tower.

I did 12 weeks of sniper work all over America, and unbelievably, I ran into Damon about five times. Well, let's just say we were in a frenzy, and we both had gigs going on, so we couldn't indulge in fucking for weeks.

It started when I was in Maine. There were three of Krycheck's subordinates or colleagues who were just as fucked up, so they had to die. I'd just been hunting it for eight days before the previous victim, and I was happy to have killed it. I'd been doing gigs for five weeks.

I was driving around downtown Portland in a bright red Rolls Royce SUV. I'd just gotten it, and I drove by one club. I stopped the car some distance away, got out of the car, and started looking around, looking for places where I could kill the victims.

 I had just passed one alley, a dark alley, when an arm wrapped around me. Luckily, I smelled passion fruit because my left hand was already on the handle of a long silver knife, ready to stab the attacker in the thigh.

Damon said in my ear, "Baby, surprise, but when I sensed you, I had to. I'm on a schedule, and I won't be long now, but there's an alley."

I said low. "Same here. I've got three key guys from Krycheck meeting me, so I'm gonna have to pull a fast one."

Damon stiffened. He said silkily, " Oh, such lovely victims. I'm not that busy if you like..."

Then he took me down the alley, took off my pants, and pushed into my cunt mercilessly. We fucked in the alley for two hours; we were absolutely horny.

He panted against me and said, "Let me kill them, please. I need to kill them."

I said " Fine, I've got the details in the car, you'll get good money for them when you register them, Reddington will pay."

We went to my car, and Damon looked at my car for a minute and said, "That's quite a ride; you're good at it."

I nodded and handed over the files.

Damon said, "You can look. I'm hungry..."

And I sat in my car and watched as Damon went to the club, came out with the first victim talking about medicine, and suddenly took him to the same alley where we had fucked and drank him to death, hid the body, and did the same to the other two.

Then he registered his victims and took the cash, got a real briefcase.

He said, "I gotta go now, baby, but we'll do it again if it happens."

I nodded. I got in my car and drove to the next place. That wasn't so bad. 

I went on, and Damon actually caught me in an alley for a quick one a few times; we were in the same town, and twice, he came along for the gig.

Actually, we had a heated argument about a suitable shooting spot, and when we got settled, of course, he had to get the shot, and Damon is a skilled sniper too. Adam is probably even better.

But I was also doing gigs on my own and making a hell of a lot of money. Damon appreciated my guns, but he put the adjustments on the fucking thing, and I was a good wife and said nothing.

I also went to my bases to see if there were any problems. And every time I thought of a job I could actually do, Adam happened to call. He somehow got my intentions through the pack bonds, and all I had to do was tell him what the job was. When he was my alpha, so he did the gigs, and I made the money.

Now, the fleas that I had talked to said I needed to get a reputation. The Flea has to get a reputation. At first, they said the solution would be a fight club reputation, which would open the way for so many other instances I wouldn't believe.

It's a fight club. I would have to develop a fucking tough reputation in fight clubs and also show my slightly more antisocial allies that I was strong enough. Well, that's okay. I could fight, but in these, the opponents could play as dirty as I. They had their own problems, and there were three kinds of them.

The first kind was the legal kind, which meant that people were hurt according to the rules. You had to play fair. It wasn't really a reputation. Whoever won in those clubs was somebody who was afraid of pain.

And it wasn't me. You didn't get hurt in these, and even people could fight in these when you didn't get hurt badly. The heroes of these clubs were cowards who feared death, and this was also a club for the weak—those who wanted a sure and glorious victory.

Then, there were the illegal or underground fight clubs. There were differences there, too. These would have more of a kick to them, a chance to make a name for themselves.

But I knew that this was what I would have to do secretly now, at least at the beginning. Knowing the men's protective nature, I would have to do it all myself and get my reputation. The going would be so rough that neither Damon nor even Samuel or Adam would let me do anything.

So, I would have to be very hush-hush about it and see how I could get my reputation done secretly. It doesn't help that half the pack is doctors, so if I took a hit, it wouldn't be easy to hide. But we'll see if the opportunity arises. 

First, there were the no-kill clubs. You had to control yourself. But I heard those clubs gave you a reputation as a coward—a reputation for wanting to stay alive and not take any chances. There may have been supernaturals, but you had to make sure you survived, and the winners were cowards and also disciplined guys, not like the flea.

The Flea had to have a reputation, a fierce and fearless reputation, and also a reputation for being able to do anything to beat anybody that I was truly invincible.

But the best reputation I would get was from the fight clubs, which were "kill or be killed." Once you got in there, you were a living advertisement for your abilities. So when you were a champion in those, it said you'd killed everyone who came at you.

And in those, you didn't have to worry about killing any of the good guys. Those were the lowest caste of the underworld, so you were cleaning shit off the streets at the same time.

As your reputation grew, you'd think your opponents would be harder to beat, but I had the skills and the talent. And most importantly, there might be good guys in the audience or timid supernaturals who might see me and join our network.

 That's what my fleas recommended to me. I promised to look into it, and anyway, we started talking about the fact that we had to show the medical firms that we existed at some point.

We needed a sign, a clear pattern, a calling card so that the enemy could see directly who they were up against. I drew a couple of versions, and our logo was then chosen to be a stylized flea.

It wasn't really a character, just a few lines, but it would be a sign that the Flea had been here. We would make little tokens and even coasters. They would act as a warning if we noticed someone was borderline but not quite on the kill list yet, so the flea mark could scare them into changing their ways. 

But first, the Flea needed a bit of a reputation boost from the fight club. The tour was almost over, but I had been working, not admiring the scenery, and had only been to America. Not every state, but quite a fucking few.

And yes, I went to Mexico and Panama for a gig, and there I bumped into Salvatore again in a heated atmosphere. I finally ended up in Illinois, where I would do six more gigs.

I was happy to have an extensive list of things to kill. Sniping was fucking fun, very Zen stuff. I spent time in between gigs at the house in Chicago with Adam, doing stuff, not fucking. I said nothing to him about fight clubs, and I said nothing to Damon or Samuel. 

I was at the Chicago house resting, reading anatomy. The next gig was tomorrow, and I had time. Two last gigs, then the long fucking gig streak would be over again, and I'd be ready for fight clubs. I was sitting in my chair in peace and quiet when suddenly Mimosa woke up in my head. I sat there for a moment and almost growled. 

Then Mimosa said, "Mimi, go to the computer and start writing." 

I didn't ask any questions. I did as my wolf wanted me to do. I went to the computer and wrote over 500 names. The list included first and last names, occupations, who it linked to, and addresses. The rest I had to find myself. That was the first kill list.

Mimosa said, "These guys need to be killed."

Okay. All right.

Mimosa continued her explanation. " This is also one of my abilities. I'll be getting kill lists from now on, so you'll have to write them down every time." 

I sent the list to Reddington, and he promised to get back to me. I let Reddington know what information was missing, and he promised to get right on it and that I would have the list updated by the day after tomorrow.

I thought, well, I've got a few days to do these couple of sniping first. I was going to take Lady and go kill with Lady. Mimosa had said that Lady would go to the gigs while I went to do the list that Mimosa had given me.

That would be Lady's job, to be my partner on the gigs. Extra security. I was excited about going to gigs with Lady, and it would bring a change of sniping again. I would get to throw on my gig clothes again and go be a femme fatale.

I told Adam about Mimosa's new ability and told him that Reddington would deliver a completed list the day after tomorrow. Adam was interested in Mimosa's list and told me to give him a copy. He reminded me I remembered to give a copy to Magnum as well, and he promised me I could take Lady to the gigs as Mimosa insisted.

She was now old enough to go to gigs. It would really be quite a sight to see Lady walking beside me in a harness. Adam said Lady was a magical cat, so no one would even think I had a snow leopard. Someone might see a poodle, and someone else might see a rottweiler.

I was hunting my victim. This was personal. This was one of who had hurt me and well, sniping and killing this long woke my killer side properly and this was going to be quite enjoyable. This was not too easy to snipe, so I would have to lure him, into alley and finish him off, but shoot when my aim would be slightly off so he would not die instantly. I was driving my car, ready to park it quite near the bar and already saw just perfect alley to have little fun. 

Silky voice said in my mind, "darlin' I am ready, you deliver that goddamn bastard into this alley and I can show you how to make him suffer.don't even think anything else, that side, it is alluring but keep it reined or else I will."

 I was quite upset. I was on god damn prowl and now this. But fine. I walked up to the bar, went in. This mark was lean. He had not much hair, and he had glasses on, his mouth was small and his cheeks round and his chin pointy. so not very good looking. He was tall, and he spoke lisping. I remember that speech impairment, how he told them to kill me over and over. He was one who supplied the venomous animals and irritated them. I had flash of memory, scorpion stinging my throat and it took moment me to keep my role on. Telepath in my mind was more than ready, he had seen those moments.

I went next to him. This was harder than usual as I was quite furious but I kept my role, sipping now margarita, flirting with him, he wanted to experience vampire's kiss. He would experience it. I got him to follow me and i lead on him to the alley. 

I barely got him in there when Damon came out, he was his eyes red, fangs out, and he hissed to this man, "shut up, do not move but feel."

He compelled him. Then he sank his fangs in his neck, and it took 15 minutes for him to slowly torture him to death, Damon was sending fear and terror in his mind so he pissed himself. I let him have money for that bastard. I also noticed that my dear husband had found those memories and was working with them. dispelling them and shoving my dark side down.

When I tried to fight back he said to me, "Darlin' that goes down, it is up to you, how much this hurt."

Fine. I had no other choice than let him put my killer side deep down again. After he had gotten my darkness under control, he made me drink from himself so my vampire side would not get any funny ideas. After that, he again left. He had something to do.

By the time the list arrived a couple of days later, I had killed the last two victims and picked up the list on the way to the house. I was on my way to my car from the pickup point when I saw Damon leaning against my car, dangerously lazy.

He said, "Or you have a kill list a la Mimosa. Fine, I can drive to the house, hop in, baby, and give me the keys." 

He was dangerous enough that I gave him the keys and got in the front seat, trying not to get upset again as he adjusted the driving position to suit himself. We drove to the house, and Damon enjoyed driving my Rolls-Royce.

We arrived at the house. I went inside, and Damon grabbed the list from my hands before I could even open the package. Magnum was also in the house, and he was eager to explore the list, too. Some 500 names didn't seem so overwhelming anymore when there were so many eager contributors.

So I went to bake while the men examined the list. Damon called various vampires to give them a piece. Magnum took a decent list for himself and Higgins; she also did some work on my network; Adam was calling all the time and directing gigs to whomever. 

Eventually, me and lady got 46 victims anyway, and I had been baking for two days when the men came out of the office.

Damon kissed me quickly, looked me in the eye, and said, " Good luck with the lady, baby. I got my list, too, gotta go."

He stalked out and took off in my Rolls Royce on his way. Fine, I had cars. Magnum left, too. I gave him a good bag of pastries to take with him. Adam ate them greedily in the kitchen and wouldn't let me eat too much.

Once he had his stomach full, he froze them coldly and quickly, so I didn't even have time to taste them all myself. But at least I got to bake.

 The next day, I went for a drive to Nevada, and from there, I picked up Lady, and we started to clear off our list. Some of these victims would make money as they were also in Reddington's sights, and he had explained the reason he paid.

It was simply that he didn't want to pay taxes; he didn't want to have a terrible fortune in any account, and whenever he got money or shares, he passed it on. He was smarter than Al Capone. He could have been a millionaire, but the taxes and the publicity it brought didn't suit his business. 

So I started walking the streets at night again, wearing a black leather top, waist bare, black leather trousers or skirt, a long black leather coat, open and my hair in whatever color, long boots with high heels and heavy make-up. Thigh holsters with guns, and now a full-grown snow leopard was walking beside me, harnessed and leashed. I was still singing in my head as I wandered down the dark streets on my way to the next bar, Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Anna Abreu's Ivory Tower or Lenka's Trouble is a Friend. This is a pretty enjoyable life, too.