The Better to Eat You With: The Red Journals by Cara Villar

the door.” He slapped my backside when I
didn’t move fast enough, and to my indignation, I yelped.
    “Fine,
but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Feeling rather plucky about what was about to
happen, I unlocked my door, stepped inside, and went to the security panel. I
knew he wouldn’t wait, knew I wouldn’t stop the system attacking him, knew it
was gonna hurt like hell. And I   relished   it.
    Even if I
disabled the panel in record time, the instant Felix crossed the threshold, a
high frequency screech would rip through the house. So, when he sauntered in,
that’s exactly what happened.  Instantly, he was hissing in pain and dropping
to his knees, hands gripping his head. The debilitating sound was so high,
not even my wolfy ears could detect it, although it did make fine hairs stand
up all over my body. However, Vampires were particular sensitive to this type
of frequency, because it was aimed specifically at the cerebral cortex, right where
Vampires develop the majority, if not all, of their mind-control abilities.
    I do so
love my cutesy, purring genius techy person.
    Sighing,
figuring it probably wasn’t diplomatic to let my new accomplice writhe on the
floor like a slug in salt, I flipped up the touch screen interface and
leisurely input all the security protocols and turned off the ‘Mosquito’.
    Felix
slumped to the floor, bracing on his hands, blood trickling from his ears and
nose. I’m pretty sure I even heard the faint, shuddering beat of his heart
giving him a resounding WTF?
    I kicked
out a hip and crossed my arms, arching a brow that basically screamed, ‘I told
you so’.
    He lifted
his head and glared at me, then slowly came to his feet, and cracked his neck.
    Ew.
    “That,” he
remarked steadily, wiping away blood from his ear, “was a new experience.” He
looked around as if bracing for a giant bolder to come rolling down my hallway,
Indiana Jones style, then used his shirt sleeve to wipe his nose.
    I snorted
and turned away, heading for my bedroom to pack some clothes. My   clothes.
    “Humbling,
isn’t it?” I snickered, then stopped and spun back to him, pointing. “Don’t
touch anything, I’ll be right back.”
    Before I
even got to my bedroom, I already had an inventory of my wardrobe, and had itemized
it so that I knew exactly what I was packing. While I was packing clothes,
shoes, wash stuff and multiple red coats, my mind was listing all the other
things I needed to do. Like remove my laptop hard drive and secure my laptop in
the safe, as well as pack my iPad and chargers so I could access client
enquiries on the go. Mentally cataloguing my
DVD collection and deciding which ones to take with me. I even packed my
pillows because, let’s face it, no pillows are better than one’s own pillows. I
also needed to seriously raid my weapons store. However much I loved my
bracelets, I doubt a few knives, a couple of guns, and a few cartridges of
liquid silver and titanium tipped bullets, wouldn’t go amiss.
    And,
though I loathed admitting it out loud, a part of me was anticipating
impressing Felix with my collection.
    Shivers.
    After
changing into my own underwear , boyfriend jeans, a dove grey button down
and DC high top trainers, and running   my
own brush   through my hair, I
pulled up the handle on my small suitcase, slung an empty pack over my
shoulder, grabbed my red duffel coat, and head back out to the hallway.
    Felix was
no longer standing before my door.
    I
frowned, and glanced into the kitchen, then my lounge—grabbing DVD’s on the way—and
then headed down to my study. Felix was there, filling my work space with his
tantalizing scent of ice and anise as he roamed past my bookshelves and
fingered my paperwork.
    “Thought
I told you not to touch anything?” I grouched, opening up my pack and dropping
it on the desk.
    “How many
jobs do you usually take on in a month?” he asked, still fingering my neat pile
of completed jobs awaiting money clearance. 
    I