Fixier walked to the mountaintop, high above the cavern they made their home in for the past several years. The wind blew and made a soft whoosh, carrying with it the dampness and scent of early morning dew. Below, Vocair exited the cave and stretched and yawned, making enough noise that even a human could hear her.

She wore the same type of outfit that she wore every day, a black skintight jumpsuit. Vocair must believe that is the norm since her creator and mentor, my current employer, wore the same outfit. Unlike Dista, Vocair wore her jet black hair loose. Too loose. It went everywhere. Has she ever heard of that invention called a brush? It’s only thousands of years old.

He took a deep breath. No matter how much they tried to mask their scent, Vampires still smelled like the dead. If only Dista had the foresight to send a vampere. The part of a vampere being alive masked that sickly death scent. “We will have to make it work.” Fixier pulled out a vial of clear liquid and motioned for Vocair to hold out her hands. He poured out a few drops. “Rub this on all exposed skin. Try to cover everything. This concoction is difficult to create and expensive.”

Vocair did as requested.

Fixier took another deep breath. Nothing. No smell at all. “Good. Follow me and be quiet. Keep the wind on your front and touch nothing. We do not want your smell left anywhere. The scent nullifier is working, but let’s not take any chances.”

He led her to the den with the pups. Fixier then donned the lioness’s skin. He pushed his hands and feet through the paws as though they were gloves and socks. The skin changed. It melted into his form. His body contorted and changed size. He dropped to be on all four paws and stretched. This skin belonged to a mountain lioness, not a lion. His body began the change from male to female. He hated this part. Body parts popped outward while others tucked. It was an excruciating feeling, not painful, but weird, like a part of him died and re-birthed. If able, Fixier chose male skins only for this reason. Today he had no choice.

Vocair pulled forth a mirror and held it so Fixier could view herself. She smiled, showing her teeth. A mountain lioness stared back at her.

Fixier placed her head into the burrow under the tree. The three cubs saw her and acted confused.

In any form, Fixier could still manage humanoid speech. “Give me the chest.” She reached in, pulled out the small human remains, and tossed them to the cubs.

One cub sniffed it and looked at Fixier. It was comical. She imagined the cubs’ thoughts, What do you expect me to do with this? The mother fed them milk from her breasts. They were not used to food, yet the cubs had not fed. They were hungry, and nature took over. Another lion-cub bit into a piece, liked it, and made a small growling noise in approval. The other cubs watched and copied. Each grabbed a part and started their meal. Fixier waited until the cubs processed all the identifying markers, fingertips, and toes before removing himself from the den. She laughed. “Looks like I made some new friends. Wait here.”

Fixier tied a bag with the incendiary device and a cloth inside, then placed it around his shoulder. Satisfied, she rotated around and headed back to the village. The sun had not shown its face, but was close. She surveyed the area around her victim’s residence. A few people were awake and moving around inside their homes. Some still slept. She could hear their snores and heavy breathing.

She located a stack of wood three houses over and placed the incendiary device deep within.

The target’s house stood isolated at the end of a rudimentary road. It made it an ideal location. She returned to her previous hiding spot behind the house and waited.

Dawn arrived. A few roosters did their morning crow ritual. Some villagers were up and active, moving around the houses. Many left to do their daily activities, while others tended to local fields.

Fixier waited for a few hours. The young woman once again brought forth her child. The mother placed him on the ground in his portable rocker, playing for a moment before returning to her laundry. She wore a large green tea-colored gown, one that an expecting mother could grow into. Her dark auburn hair tied into a ponytail hung behind her and swayed as she hung the clothes. The clothing she wore and the clothes she placed on the drying line weren’t new. Many had marks of resowing, rather than having them thrown away. The mother hummed a local song, one that Fixier had never heard.

When all seemed quite normal, Fixier pulled forth the remote device and hit the trigger.

The incendiary device’s chemicals mixed and melted out of their enclosure. Dripping onto the wood, a fire blazed. The wood sizzled and crackled. Soon, the fire spread to the entire woodpile and started in on the house next to it.

Fixier waited. A few minutes passed by. No one noticed the fire yet. The smell of burning wood was strong. The fire had engulfed half of the house and started spreading across the grassy plain to other tasty morsels.

A bell rang. Someone shouted, “Fire. Fire. Fire. Everyone, please come help.”

Fixier sighed, About time!

The mother walked around the house. She lost sight of the child for just a moment.

Fixier moved. She placed the cloth over the child to subdue him and grabbed him with her jaw. Anyone who watched saw a mountain lioness steal the child. She left her paw prints in the dirt nearby on purpose and ran on all four paws back to the brush. Without stopping, she broke the child’s skin with her teeth and ensured a few drops of blood fell.

Fixier made her way back to the den of cubs, leaving additional drops of blood along the way. She worked fast, but all too soon, she heard a woman scream. Once in the den, she dropped a few more drops of blood and exited. Once out, Fixier leaped away as far as possible, removed his disguise, and fled with Vocair. The child, in tow, rested in peace with the cloth nearby.