1. Fucking Nose

Chapter one

Fucking Nose

Izadora

M y fucking nose itches.

But I can't scratch it right now. Why? Well, because I have been sitting in this position scoping out my target for the past two hours and I have not moved once. That's the downside to having a lizard shifter as a mark. One move and you're spotted, but if you can be still, you're virtually invisible.

Dammit, why does it have to itch so bad? And don't you dare fucking give me any shit about not actually having a nose. I am aware that it's more like a nasal cavity, but it's... well, it's like that phantom leg thing amputees get. Except… you know, it's my nose.

To be fair my actual face does have a nose. But my head was taken.

Ohh Ehmm Gee...

What if my nose on my real head is what's actually itchy, but I feel it here and my poor real nose is just going to itch forever and ever?

Oh fuck. Can I go on living with an eternally itchy nose?

A quick shake of my head sets my mind back on focus. Too bad the shake was not just internal, because the damn raptor shifter snaps his head in my direction so fucking fast it also makes me jump. So much for stealth. The client offered an extra bonus for making the whole thing quick and quiet, but I guess that is all out the fucking window now.

Meh, fuck it. It's better to embrace my chaos monster ways. It's what gets the job done after all. And I always get the job done.

The raptor charges and I shove my hands to my sides, lifting up Thelma and Louise. Yes, I named my axes. No, I don't think that's weird at all, but if you do... well, that seems like a you problem.

The second my hands wrap around the handles of my friends, my pumpkin head lights on fire. It's like a freaky on-switch. And just like with every other target, the second the flames come out to play, is when they go all bug-eyed and try to turn tail and run. Pansy bitches. I'm an assassin, holding two giant axes, with a pumpkin head, and none of that is freaky at all, but as soon as you add flames to the mix, suddenly you shit yourself. I just don't get it.

"Oh no you don't!" I yell at the half-raptor while bringing Thelma—my right side axe—back behind my head, before propelling her forward and releasing her at just the right time, sending her soaring through the air like a glorious elegant bird or some shit. With only inches to spare before the raptor breaks the treeline and exposes himself to a crowd of drunken humans, Thelma lands with a thunk right in the back of dino-guys noggin, and he hits the ground with a thud.

Sparing a few moments for a quick victory dance with Louise, I wiggle my hips around like I'm having a fucking seizure in manic glee. No, I mean like straight-up seizure while fucking. That is what my dance skills resemble. Hey, I know I'm bad at it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop. I'm proud of every fucker I kill and a successful take-down deserves a little wiggle and jiggle, you know?

Getting all that out of my system, I walk over to the raptor dude's body—his name is Joe if you were wondering—and place one of my booted feet solidly on his back while grabbing Thelma firmly and yanking her upward. She dislodges from the scaley head with a nice spray of blood trailing behind her. I don't even try to dodge it. I'm a sick fucker, and I enjoy bathing in the blood of my enemies.

Ok, maybe bathing is a bit dramatic.

Really it's just a small splattering from my waist to my shoulder.

Still, the warm liquid feeds my black soul and adds a pep to my step. Nearly forgetting, I spin around and lean down to Joe's head—that's the raptor guy, remember?—and pull a tiny vial from my pocket. I give it a quick shake and the innocuous contents jiggle around. Popping the cork top, I dump the powder onto the back of Joe's head. Not one to leave before verifying a job is complete, I stand to watch as the scales slowly morph into human-like hairs and skin.

The formula has taken years to perfect and if it would come into contact with a shifter who was still alive, the process would be excruciating. However, if I apply it quickly after a target's demise, it forces a permanent post-mortem shift that allows human law enforcement to be blissfully unaware of the true nature to their supposed victims. An important aspect of my job, should I want to keep it.

Pushing the cork back in place, I shove the vial back into my pocket and once again lift Thelma and Louise. With my job completed and the thrill of the hunt passed, my pumpkin is once again docile and unglowing. When I turn around, for the second time tonight I nearly jump out of my skin. Two humans have snuck into the private gardens of the now-deceased and thoroughly corrupt doctor. I open my mouth to speak, not even remotely sure what to say when it becomes obvious that my presence is completely unnoticed.

Unable to tear my gaze away, I watch as the two lovers devour one another. The two appear as complete opposites, but together, anyone could see how well they complement each other. It's sweet and their love shines brightly in their auras.

That is what has me silently scowling and slipping away. Auras be damned. Auras can lie. And yet, those damned things are still left from my vision of my former life. Well, life at all. I don't even bleed anymore so I am nearly positive I am simply dead. A cursed dead thing meant for only one purpose.

No, Iza. We won't do this again. Not again.

Stopping for just a moment in the alley and taking a deep breath that I do not need, I use it to steady myself.

I am more than a three-hundred-year-old curse. I am more than just a psycho with a deep love for black kittens who wears a flaming pumpkin head and kills for money.

I am Izadora Krane. I ride my night stallion over the sleeping bridge and straight into your nightmares.

With a renewed purpose, I pluck a sucker I stole from a child earlier and toss the wrapping on the ground before popping the sugary goodness into my mouth.

Skipping along and swinging my axes to and fro, I make my way back home.