'Why so offended?' Mia asked as we continued our stroll through the Bites, Bucharest's were quarter. Most of the inhabitants knew me as Dravich's son, even if they didn't know me personally, so it was a relatively safe area.

Both for me, and for them.

'Why shouldn't I be?' I shrugged, weighing how much bullshit I could spew before she got offended herself. 'As you said, I was there to watch you grow-'

'Oh? I thought I was being followed sometimes.'

'Ha, ha. I remember when you were...' I almost held out a hand, then remembered she'd been taller than me in her early teens as well. 'Younger. I'd have reacted like that if any of your classmates was in you place.'

'Hmmmm?'

'Yes, really,' I sighed. 'But I just didn't like how that were was talking to you. And, again, you really shouldn't play along with such people...' I trailed off as she stopped walking, giving me a weird look. Had I said something wrong? Or...

'David,' she said, leaning down so we could look each other in the eyes. 'One of the first things I learned as a zmeu is that, when everyone gets your motor running, you'll attract unwanted attention. I know how to handle that type. And...' she smiled conspiratorially. 'Hypocrisy isn't much better than possessiveness.'

I blinked at the non-sequitur. 'Your pardon?'

'Would I be wrong to say we grew closer during the Cold Madness?' I shook my head. 'Because you helped keep me sane. You might have missed it, but your presence really helped me hold myself together. So I got attached to you. Call it gratitude, or imprinting, or whatever. Maybe it's just my missing daddy complex,' she rolled her eyes. 'But I think it goes both ways.'

'...I thought about killing you that day.' The zmeu cocked her head to one side, like a curious bird. 'I thought that, if you went mad, I'd have no way to stop you without killing you.'

'You couldn't have,' she said bluntly. 'Stopped me without harm, I mean. And...I'm sure that tore at your heart, didn't it?'

How could it have not? One of the children I'd never have, slowly losing herself in front of me, and I was powerless.

Mia blew out a breath after I told her this. 'It's sweet there's at least one guy who sees me as his daughter, but I really don't need a paranoid father scaring off potential squeezes. Keep that shotgun tucked, ok?' She squeezed my right shoulder. 'Or, we could just hook up, and you'll be able to stop worrying. About the random flirting, I mean. All my exes tell me I'm enough to worry about,' she grinned.

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Before I could reply, my phone shifted subtly, making a sound inaudible to humans. Mia pulled away from me, nose slits scrunched up. 'Who's that call from, the nails on chalkboard union?'

I shook my head, fishing it out of my jacket pocket, and saw the white shield and arc on black. No rejecting this call. 'Something like that...'

***

 Monster

During all my missions up to this point, I was supervised by a senior ARC agent-usually undead from the Crypt division-and this time was no different.

So I told myself, at the start.

Loric Szabo was a strigoi of average height and more than average girth. With his shoulder-length grey hair, bushy beard, plump belly and wide smile, he looked like the uncle who always made you laugh. Or could have, had he been human.

Szabo spoke with a lilt, his Hungarian accent giving a sing song quality to his words. You could have thought he was a poet, but his family had been tailors for generations.

Szabo had killed himself out of boredom. Deciding his death, at least, would be memorable, for his life hadn't been, the man had jumped on chainsaws, one tearing a ragged hole through his chest, the other splitting his head in half from the nose up. His brain jiggled when he moved.

When we met in the sky above the Urals, Szabo called out to me, arms open wide to hug me. I hesitantly smiled back.

Then saw his clothes.

The black shirt with the ARC symbol was the only thing signifying his allegiance. It was covered by a jacket made of discoloured leather strips, roughly sewn together. So were his pants and boots.

'Don't touch me with that shit,' I warned him, a fist raised, the other hand's nails shaped into claws.

Szabo chuckled. 'Little brother in death,' he intoned. 'Do you not like leather?'

'Look at you, how shocking. I've never seen a strigoi make use of human resources before.'

Szabo shook his head, still smiling. 'And here I thought you'd appreciate the tolerance...one from every race, so no one can say I'm bigoted!' Szabo clasped his hands in front of himself. 'Ah! You have no idea how it feels to eat a flayer, David! The dears so often have skins prepared for you. It's like when you rip open a woman and see she's pregnant! Twice the joy for half the work!'

'What's the mission?' I asked tersely, wishing to beat something to death before he made another dead baby joke. 'I received no briefing or text.'

'Of course not. She can pluck things out of minds, and minds out of heads! We must keep everything related to this operation quiet.' Szabo turned, jacket crackling, and I barely stopped myself from ripping it off him, then shoving it down that foul throat. 'We are untouchable to her power, mind, but it's better to be careful. So our leash-holders say.'

As we touched down at the edge of a snow-covered village, I couldn't help but ask. 'Why hasn't ARC killed you?'

'You think I'm crazy! But mad dogs become pig feed, and I'm no slop, no-this world is my trough!' Szabo threw his head back, laughing. 'You're insane, Silva! You think acting like a hairless monkey and whining at a god that hurts you will make the voices stop!? Talking back only makes them louder!'

'I can tell you've never talked back,' I said, walking away from him and towards the objective. He laughed even louder this time.

'I've been screaming along for decades!'

There were many monsters in Siberia. Most hidden. Some unknown, like the one we had come to stop. And then, there were the ones like my "brother in death".