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Agent of S.T.A.L.K. in Prague

By: Five_Eight



Greetings, I wish everyone a scary Hallowe'en, All Saints' Day, El Día de los Muertos, All Hallows Eve, Dušičky, etc. 

Have you ever eaten in a restaurant and the food on the next table looked so good you wish you'd ordered that instead? That's how I feel when reading one of manyeyedhydra's vampire tales: man, I'd sure like to try some succubus-in-a-Euro-trash-setting myself. So I asked permission and, amiable chap that he is, my friend Hydra said, "Go ahead on, Five!" I piled on the gratuitous sex & violence in AGENT OF S.T.A.L.K. IN PRAGUE; and dedicate this story to the many-eyed one. 

Hope you ladies & gentlemen at Literotica enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it. And I'd be much obliged if you'd kindly vote a five for Five when you've finished this black comedy. Thanks in advance, everybody. 

~~~

The Czech bouncer outside the entrance of the sex club glanced at the business card Mercer handed him. 

"S.T.A.L.K.? Sounds like some kind of sick shit." He spoke English well, but almost spat the words. The curious look on his face bordered on contempt. "What the fuck does it stand for?"

"Supernatural Terminators And Lycanthrope Killers."

Uninterested, the tall and very broad bouncer gave the card back, "I'm glad it has nothing to do with celery. Pay the cover like everyone else or get the hell out."

"I'm here on an assignment and have no intention of paying you five hundred Korunas," Mercer said patiently. "Your boss called our S.T.A.L.K. offices in District 1 and requested an agent come out. That's me. Why not check with him before you have an embarrassing moment."

The bouncer's eyes widened as the meaning of the words became clear to him, his face twisted in a full-fledged sneer. "You're going to give me an embarrassing moment?" he snarled in disbelief. Over his shoulder he spoke to another guy just as big as he was: "Hey, Eduard! Come over here. This piece of shit thinks he can give me an embarrassing moment."

Nonchalant, Mercer rocked back and forth on his heels, both hands out of sight in the pockets of his black leather trenchcoat, waiting for Eduard to join them on the sidewalk in front of the sleazy cabaret. The lofty gloomy architecture of Prague, the golden city of a hundred spires, towered claustrophobically all around them. In the middle of the street a group of people in rubber head masks and dressed as zombies in celebration of the Czech Republic's Halloween, Dušičky, chose that moment to start dancing to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" blasting out of a boom box. Still suffering jet lag from a recent transatlantic flight from the United States, Mercer acted patient through it all. But his patience had expired.

He taunted the bouncer that the first one had called out to. "By all means, come down and watch."

The man, another hulking specimen in a cheap tux, detached himself from the four strippers he chatted up in the doorway of the entrance. "Oh, I want to see this," he muttered. While he ambled to the sidewalk his eyes assessed Mercer, who was a head shorter than the first bouncer, and a big grin formed on his face. Mercer grinned too, so did the other guy. All three of them grinned, standing there. But the three men only grinned for a moment. Mercer deplored the gangsters operating the strip bars and sex houses as much as the prostitutes working in such places, but his job brought him into occasional contact with them. At least most of them spoke good English, communication was seldom a problem. He exhaled with disgust, knowing he'd have to resort to a different language. 

A quick punch to the sternum and a knee to the scrotum sprawled the recalcitrant bouncer in a fetal position on the cobblestones. His mouth worked, opening and closing, except no words came out. The costumed revelers out in the street stopped performing their "Thriller" dance. The flock of half naked dancers clustered in the door started jabbering amongst themselves. 

Mercer grabbed a fistful of tuxedo shirt and yanked Eduard toward him. "If you think that's embarrassing, Eddie, wait'll you check out what's in store for you."

Everyone understood the language of violence.

Trying to ease out of Mercer's grasp, Eduard said, "If you are here to see the boss, well, that is a different story. Of course, you do not have to pay the cover charge."

Mercer didn't let go of Eduard's shirtfront. "And where inside of this dump will I find your boss? Has he got an office?" "He does, but most likely you will find him out on the floor somewhere. He has on a tan suit."

Mercer suggested, "How about you have one of the strippers point him out to me, chum."

Eduard's eyes stayed locked on his as he instructed one of the chattering girls: "Izabela, help this gentleman here locate Kryštof inside."

One of the women, an aging bleached blonde with surgically augmented boobs, swayed over on eight-inch heels to where Mercer still held the motionless Eduard by the shirt. Mercer ignored the bimbo and asked him, "What's your friend's name? The one on the ground."

Eduard licked at dry lips before answering. "And still on the ground. That's Alexandr. I have seen him in plenty of fights, he never loses. You are the first one I ever saw put him down."

Mercer let go of Eduard, but brushed disdainfully at the wrinkles he'd left in the fabric of his shirt with the back of a hand. Then he shoved Eduard aside, squatted down beside Alexandr and said, "Sorry to make such a bad first impression." He flipped his card in the man's face. "Call S.T.A.L.K. if you want to complain. Or if you think I tricked you and you want to take a second shot just give me a call, my mobile number's on the card too."

Alexandr wisely said nothing, he just shook his head and gave a meek wave of his hand to indicate everything was cool. Mercer stepped away from him, moved past Eduard toward the door with Izabela. The three other strippers got out of his way. He felt their eyes watching him as he passed them. Once inside Izabela giggled and took him by the arm. She mashed a tit as hard as a cinder block into his arm. 

"If you pack a dick like you pack a punch I want one of your cards too," she enthused.

Mercer disengaged her arm without smiling, but he didn't give her a card. "Let's go find Kryštof, honey."

The three-story sex club loomed next door to a disco on a backstreet in Zizkov in District 3, the roughest neighborhood in Prague. A garish neon sign over the door advertised the dive as the 'Fun Palace' but the interior of the joint didn't look like any palace Mercer had ever seen. Izabela led him through a dim alcove with fake cobwebs and skeleton decorations on the walls. Inside streamers fluttered from the ceiling, the universal orange and black of Halloween. Dishes of holiday candy had been distributed everywhere. A horseshoe-shaped deck on the first floor overlooked a sunken area crammed with tables. Most had customers sitting at them, some in costume. Women, more often than men, wore masks or greasepaint on their faces in observance of Dušičky. A couple of hefty girls danced and stripped in a desultory fashion on two small circular stages positioned amid the tables on the floor. A younger, thinner girl with dishwater blonde hair did a bump-and-grind on the main stage nestled between each end of the horseshoe deck, a glassed-in DJ booth on one side. The dancer working the large rectangular stage appeared equally bored as the others.

Additional tables occupied the upper level; Mercer noted two separate bars to his left and right. Several doors, including the metal ones of a lift, lined the walls leading to restrooms and an obvious V.I.P. area, but others led to parts unknown. An ancient Def Leppard song thundered from the enormous speaker cabinets suspended overhead. Mercer surveyed the crowd for a man in a tan suit.

He asked Izabela, "Do you see Kryštof anywhere?"

She twisted her blonde head once from side to side. "Maybe upstairs? Probably."

"Let's go then."

Izabela marched over to the pair of steel doors, but Mercer indicated the stairs. He didn't want to be trapped should the lift decide to break down. She protested, "Stairs are hard to climb in high heels."

Without a word Mercer started up the stairs and she followed, clomping behind him like a horse. The second level didn't have a deck, just a small dance floor with softer music piped in, more intimate than Def Leppard. Dozens of couples clinging tightly to one another danced in the near darkness while others writhed on couches along the walls. A tangible effluvium of perspiration intermingled with sex in the air. Mercer strained to see a man in a suit who might be Kryštof.

"Kryštof's not here, he will be up top," Izabela informed him.

This time she went up the stairs ahead of him. In the harsh fluorescent light in the stairwell Mercer saw stretch marks on the buttocks exposed by Izabela's abbreviated skirt. The woman didn't have any knickers on. She smiled down at him and asked, "Is that a Dušičky costume or do you always dress like a priest?"

She referred to his black suit and shirt, buttoned to the neck without a tie, under the trenchcoat. Mercer saw no reason to be surly with her, she was only making conversation. "You don't see a cleric's collar, do you?"

"I do not know many priests who would wear black high top sneakers either."

Mercer doubted Izabela knew any clergymen, but said, "My niece bought these shoes for me when I visited Los Angeles last week. She called them Chuck's. They're quite comfortable for walking around airport concourses."

"Very stylish. Are you from America?"

"No. I live here."

"Do you live nearby, handsome?"

"In a flat in Vinohrady."

"That is in Prague 2," she commented, "Not too far from here. Perhaps later you can show me your flat?"

"The wife's waiting up for me," Mercer lied.

Izabela took the hint and left off issuing further invitations. When they reached the top of the stairs she stopped and spoke again. "That is Kryštof standing over there."

A man and woman stood in the middle of a hallway with doors on either side like a hotel corridor. A group of bouncers in tuxes gathered at the far end, talking among themselves. The sound of moaning and grunting came through the thin doors, punctuated with an occasional female cry of joy. Mercer perceived the odor of sex more heavily on this floor than he did on the one below.

"Prosim," Mercer thanked Izabela. "I'll introduce myself." He heard the heels of her shoes echoing in the stairway and, for a moment, wondered why she hadn't ridden the lift down. Then he strode over to Kryštof, a chap with oily hair in dire need of a barber. Like Mercer, Americans would write him off as Euro trash, a mid-level mobster in a shiny Italian suit. A cigarette bobbed between his lips as he spoke to a rail-thin slut in a red garment that left the upper halves of her breasts and the lower halves of her ass bare.

Kryštof surprised him with his good manners. When he saw Mercer standing there he cut his conversation short with the girl, extinguished his cigarette on the carpet under the heel of his loafer and stepped toward him, his hand extended to shake. "Good evening, my friend. Can I be of assistance?"

"Clive Mercer," he said as they shook hands. He handed him his business card.

After giving it a glance, Kryštof nodded. "I can tell you are an Englishman. An expat by chance?"

"Not at all. I just flew in this morning from spending last week with my niece in California, though I am attached to the Prague branch of S.T.A.L.K. Have been for almost a year, but I should be returning to Blighty before Christmas. I understand there's a little problem here tonight."

"A big fucking problem, my friend. I thank you for responding so quickly." Kryštof said to the girl in the red, "Lenka, would you go get Jakub for me? Tell him we'll be in the office. This way, Mercer, if you please."

Midway down the corridor Kryštof unlocked a heavy door inlaid with two thick padded vinyl panels, when he closed it behind Mercer the groans and grunts ceased to be audible. The room stunk from stale perfume, old smoke and recent pussy. A scratched metal desk faced a couch with stained cushions and armrests. Kryštof lit another cigarette and planted a hip on a corner of the desk, Mercer remained standing. A man knocked once and let himself into the office. Kryštof introduced Jakub, the security chief of the club, another big man, this one with a ponytail and clad in a shabby tux like the other bouncers.

"Jakub, this is the agent S.T.A.L.K. sent over: Clive Mercer. Is there any sign of the police?"

"No."

"Good. Is the body undisturbed?"

"I have let no one in the room. Nobody's touched it since I put the towels under him to keep the blood from seeping through the floor into the ceiling below."

"Good. Do any of the girls know what's going on?"

"Lenka knows something's wrong but she doesn't know what."

"I have cautioned Lenka to keep quiet."

"So did I, she'll keep her mouth shut." Jakub added, making a fist, "If she knows what's good for her."

Kryštof turned to Mercer. "As you might have guessed we have a corpse in one of our private rooms. Jakub and I will deal with the authorities when the time comes although we need you to deal with the problem immediately."

"Fill me in on the details."

Kryštof deferred to Jakub, who said, "Apparently one of our girls brought the guy up here. Now he's dead."

"Which girl?" asked Mercer.

"I am not sure."

"Don't you keep any record?"

"It is Dušičky, the club is busier than usual for a Monday night."

The rest of the world has different names and dates for Halloween. Prague recognized All Soul's Day on November second. 

Mercer pointed out, "There must be a hundred and fifty to two hundred girls here tonight, surely you have some idea of who she is."

"The dead man was fooling around with several of the women here. My security team has narrowed them down to three."

"Are they still on the premises?" Mercer hoped they were.

"They're still here," replied Jakub with a hint of a sigh. "I have a man monitoring each one. Two of them are dancing with men on the second floor. One's onstage on the ground level as we speak. You want me to gather them together and bring them up here?" 

"Let me take a look at the body first. Is the wound in the neck?"

"Well, one of the wounds is," Kryštof interjected. "That's the reason we called S.T.A.L.K. first and not the police."

How the 'Fun Palace' management reacted to the murder was not Mercer's concern. Sometime before daybreak he'd have to report the death even if the gangsters did not or risk S.T.A.L.K.'s licenses being revoked. Mercer didn't comment or make any judgments. Since his boss had already negotiated the fee with the club's management, and their credit card cleared, all he needed to do was go to work. "Let's see the deceased now."

They left the office and walked to the end of the hall where the group of bouncers loitered outside the last door on the right. Their hushed conversation died with the approach of Kryštof. He told one of them to remain outside and the rest to go about their duties. Kryštof preceded him into the little room with Jakub bringing up the rear, he drew the door closed. The place smelt of copper, among other things. Blood has a coppery smell. The few available lights inside the hazy cramped space had already been switched on, a dim bare bulb in the ceiling and a tiny table lamp with another low wattage bulb. 

A man lay on the floor like he'd melted and didn't have a single bone in his body, naked but for his trousers around his ankles, the eyes wide open in the horrified face. Several white dish towels lay under his head, more beneath his hips. Mercer slid his pencil flash out of his shirt pocket and stooped down to raise the man's head. He turned it gently so he could view the underside of his neck. Two puncture marks leaked blood when he moved the body. He shined the beam of light on the wound while conducting his examination. Flashing the light down to the man's hips, he made a gruesome discovery. The poor bloke's penis was bitten off. Mercer didn't gasp or recoil in shock, he'd seen far worse. 

Before he could shine the beam around the floor, Jakub said, "You won't find it, I've already looked. It's gone."

Mercer had seen enough. He told Kryštof and Jakub, "There isn't much blood on these towels, a coffee cup at the most."

"Is this the work of a vampire?" asked Kryštof.

"That's my best guess. Since we have a sex crime involving a mutilated man as victim I tend to think we're dealing with a succubus."

"Is that a vampire?" Kryštof wanted to know.

"A female vampire." Mercer rose to his feet and backed away from the dead man. "Succubi feed on male sexual energy and can drain the life out of a man. I'd say that's what happened to this chap since there's so little bleeding. She sucked him dry, literally. Jakub, has your team seen signs of blood on any of the three girls in question? Bloodspots on their clothes? Or their chests, hands and especially faces?" 

"We keep the 'Palace' dark and intimate on purpose. For practical reasons. I can ask the men I have watching the three girls we suspect."

"Would you do that right now for me, please?"

Jakub mumbled a yes before he exited. Mercer glanced around the room, the sole furnishings a single bed with tangled sweat-stained sheets and pillows, a blue plastic lamp table, and a chair with articles of clothing heaped on it. He checked all the pockets of the clothes for identification. A label sewn inside the jacket read J.C. Penney, which Mercer knew to be an American department store.

While he watched Mercer rifling through the clothes, Kryštof said, "You won't find a wallet either, Jakub took it when we found the body."

"Where is it now?"

"Locked in my desk drawer."

"I want to see it when we get back to your office," Mercer said. On hands and knees he shined his flash under the bed. Nothing except condom wrappers and four used prophylactics. He wanted out of this dump, wished he'd never accepted the assignment, yet continued his grim search for any worthwhile clues. Scouting around, Mercer pondered the possibility of Kryštof concealing pertinent facts from him. He ventured idly, "By the way, do you know this fellow? Is he a regular here, an expat perhaps?"

"I've never seen him in the club before, neither has Jakub. We suspect he's a tourist. Prague is popular, especially during Dušičky."

Mercer said nothing, hauled himself to his feet and stowed his flash. "Have you ever had a problem like this before tonight, someone killed in the club under mysterious circumstances?"

Kryštof seemed wary of Mercer's inquiry and he'd expected him to be; the man was doubtless a gangster. After hesitating Kryštof answered, "There have been two other customers killed in here. In the last three years."

"With puncture wounds in the necks or minus their private parts?"

"Nothing at all like that, Mercer. Those were not unexplained deaths, they could be accounted for. Not something we would like the public to know, you understand." 

Fair enough, thought Mercer. He admired Kryštof's candor. "Let's go back to your office. I'd like to check the contents of the man's wallet." 

He'd left Kryštof an opportunity to say something about the wallet and the club manager volunteered, "He had an American driver's license from New Jersey. That's why Jakub and I think he's a vacationer."

"Was he carrying a passport with him?"

"Tourists usually leave them in the safe at their hotel," he said as he let them out of the room.

Back in his office Kryštof unlocked a drawer of the desk and passed a thick tri-fold wallet over to Mercer. The first thing he noticed was the empty bill compartment, only five credit cards and a driver's license bearing the name of Vincent Lomelli remained. Nothing there to help shed any light on the man's death. Mercer handed the billfold back to Kryštof.


Agent of S.T.A.L.K. in Prague



Jakub returned to the office. "My men noted no evidence of bloodstains or splatters."

"And all three of the women are still accounted for?" 

Jakub nodded and reached for his cigarette pack, Kryštof did the same. Mercer waved off the offer for a smoke and chewed absently at the inside of his cheek, thinking while the two men lit up. Kryštof asked him if he wanted a drink and, when he said okay, picked up the phone on the desk.

"What would you like, Mercer?"

"Dam si jedno pivo prosim?" Can I have a beer, please?

The two men smiled when he spoke in their native tongue. Kryštof grinned, "Well, well, you speak Czechoslovakian."

"I know enough phrases to get by."

"It is important to be able to ask for something to drink. Any particular brand?"

"Pilsner Urquel will suffice, thanks."

Kryštof ordered drinks over the phone and finished with: "And have Jitka bring them upstairs, thank you."

Mercer asked Jakub, "How much money did the victim have in his wallet?"

Jakub exchanged a look with Kryštof before answering him. "None. I think the girl must have stolen it. If she's not above mutilation and murder, what difference does a little harmless thievery make?"

Mercer let the question drop; the cops would pocket all or most of it anyway if the denizens of the 'Fun Palace' hadn't appropriated it first. "Have the three suspects worked here longer than six months or a year?" Kryštof shook his head. "Two of them only a month. The third I would estimate two months, three maximum."

"Of the girls you're watching, who would you say is the most likely candidate responsible for killing the American?"

Jakub answered, "If I knew that we would not have called S.T.A.L.K. We would clean our own house."

"Have either of you ever encountered a vampire personally?" Mercer asked, glancing from one man to the other.

They both shrugged and admitted they had not, at least not knowingly.

"Vampires are supernatural creatures, as you know, and they have superhuman strength. One could tip a motor car on its side or throw your overzealous doorman Alexandr across a city street without even breathing heavy."

"I talked to Alexandr now that you mention him," said Jakub. "I understand you two had a slight altercation."

"Slight," agreed Mercer.

"I apologize for not letting him know we had called on your services, things are abnormal here tonight. I simply forgot."

Kryštof said, "If vampires are so powerful, how do you intend to handle the girl once you pinpoint if she is guilty?" 

"Let me show you just one of the tools of the trade," Mercer said. 

He shrugged out of the trenchcoat and reached into the right side slash pocket. When he withdrew his hand he held a large chrome-plated pistol with black rubber handgrips and two fat barrels, one on top of the other like an over-and-under shotgun. The thing had two hammers, but when he laid it flat in his palm the two Czechs saw the gun had a single trigger.

"What the fuck is that?" exclaimed Jakub. "I've never seen such a handgun."

"It looks like a flare gun," stated Kryštof.

"This is a prototype that Pfeifer Zeliska in Austria milled especially for S.T.A.L.K. for almost two hundred thousand Korunas. It's along the lines of a Smith & Wesson 500, one of the largest pistols manufactured in the world. One pull on the trigger will discharge the top barrel. A second pull discharges the lower one. The muzzle velocity is something fierce. You can't shoot a hole through an engine block and there's only two shots, but it does the trick on vampires."

"What does it shoot? Silver bullets?" asked an astonished Kryštof.

"Close. The ammunition is silver, but not bullets," Mercer explained. "Silver darts. The era of the wooden stake is behind us, gentlemen." 

Someone knocked on the door and Kryštof called out, "Just a minute, please." To Mercer: "Jitka is one of the girls Jakub's team has been watching and she entertained the dead American tonight. Are you ready to interview her?"

"Sure. You want me to use your office?"

Kryštof leered, "Unless you'd rather interview the girls in one of the bedrooms."

"I'd prefer here. Give me a few seconds to prepare."

Mercer carefully replaced the gun in his trenchcoat pocket, then folded the coat and positioned it on the right armrest of the couch in such a way he could draw the unorthodox pistol quickly while seated. Sitting down, he put on a pair of Ray-Ban style sunglasses: another tool of his trade, the special lenses treated to avoid being ensorcelled by gazing into the eyes of a vampire. 

"I can dim the lights if it's too bright for you, Mercer," joked Kryštof.

Jakub had a smirk on his face too. Mercer was accustomed to sarcasm while wearing the bloody things indoors. He hadn't discussed the fact if the two of them worked alongside a vampire they might already be under a hypnotic spell and be unaware of it. Settling for flashing them a lopsided "aren't-I-cool" grin, he indicated to Jakub to bring the girl into the office. From the corner of his eye he saw the dishwater blonde he'd seen dancing on the main stage downstairs earlier. She paused inside the doorway, a big bouncer in a tux stood behind her.

Jakub bid the girl to come inside and told the man in the hall: "Wait out here, Teodor, I'll be out in a few minutes."

Teodor grunted and closed the door. Jitka greeted Kryštof and Jakub by name and, after favoring Mercer with a friendly fuck-me smile, giggled like a schoolgirl. Lord, thought Mercer, wondering if she was even old enough to be employed at a sex bar like 'Fun Palace.' 

The petite young lady carried a tray with a glass of beer and two shot glasses of whiskey. To go along with her schoolgirl image she had a candy sucker in her mouth, maybe from one of the dishes scattered around the club downstairs, the white paper stick protruding between generous full lips that an entertainment columnist in a newspaper might describe as beestung. Her hair was combed to one side of her head and held in place over the ear with a gaudy red plastic barrette, the long hair in back sweeping over her slender shoulders. Mercer could see the nipples of her small breasts poking through a white buttoned top that left her midriff bare. He noticed the obligatory belly button piercing, but not a single tattoo. She wore a pair of white stiletto-heeled shoes with a strap buckled around each dainty ankle, but didn't clomp around like Izabela. When she bent to set the tray on the desktop her skintight blue cotton shorts rode up on the cheeks of her rather plump bottom, her best feature. The material stretched taut between her legs to display a perfect outline of the shape of her prominent pussy lips. The flimsiest of thongs would have made an impression under those shorts, Mercer knew for certain she had no knickers on underneath or he would've detected them. Nothing was under her pants but tender juicy flesh. 

Slender young Jitka gave off an aura, pure sex on wheels; easily the most beautiful and alluring girl he'd yet glimpsed in the 'Fun Palace.' Despite the very real potential of her posing a death threat to him, an unwelcome stiffening began to take place behind Mercer's zipper, most distracting. He tried his best to concentrate on business; the girl could've killed a man less than two hours ago, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the bulge made by her splendid cunt. When Jitka turned around to bring him his Pilsner the front view of her shorts took his breath away as much as the rear. Her pudenda protruded above the top of her thighs forming quite a pronounced vee. Shorts like hers normally bunched at the crotch, but the material stretched tight across her feminine genitalia to accentuate and draw attention to it. The effect was startling. Jitka must've bought those shorts two sizes too small on purpose.

He shifted his legs to accommodate the aching full blown erection the sight of her inspired, thankful he'd remembered to don his vampire-proof sunglasses prior to making eye contact with the scrumptious vixen. He prayed she wasn't a vampire; it would be a sin to kill a sweetheart like her. To make matters worse she sat in his lap as she handed him the beer. 

Jitka giggled again when she discovered what transpired below his belt, squirming against him in a deliberate lascivious fashion, he felt the heat of her loins burning against his. She held the edge of the glass to his mouth with a lewd and knowing smile pasted on her face.

"I wish you a pleasant Dušičky. I think you need to take a drink, mister," she invited, the sucker still planted in her mouth. She bounced up and down playfully in his lap. "You seem so uncomfortable, handsome. And stiff."

Mercer drank, anything to take his mind off her.

Kryštof came to his rescue by saying, "Jitka, put the glass in his hand and get up off of his lap. We didn't summon you up here to relax him."

Jitka pouted when she stood, but not until she ground herself one final time against Mercer's tumescence. As she'd struggled awkwardly to her feet she ran a casual fingertip down the length of his knob and winked at him without Kryštof and Jakub being able to see. She jiggled her bottom in rebellion as close to his face as she could before taking a step toward Kryštof's desk, crossing her wrists innocently behind her back and thrusting out her chest. Mercer picked up his glass and regarded its golden contents for a long moment before taking a sip and setting the beer on the floor beside the end of the couch, he wanted both hands free. "Quit behaving like a slut for just a minute, Jitka," said Jakub sternly. 

She removed the sucker from her mouth with a slurp and licked it suggestively. "I am only doing my job," she complained. 

"And you do it very well however we have some questions to ask you. This is Mr. Mercer, he has questions too."

"He can ask me anything he wants," the sultry little thing replied in a husky voice.

Kryštof said to Mercer, "Where do you want to begin?"

"Let me see the wallet again." Kryštof took it out of the desk once more and handed it to Jakub, who handed it to Mercer. Mercer slipped the driver's license out of its plastic sleeve and held it up for the girl to see.

"Do you recognize this gentleman, Jitka?"

She swung around to face him. He felt a twitch in his pants when she cupped her pubic mound to lean closer to inspect the license. "I saw him, he was downstairs earlier."

"Did you and he come up to the third floor?" asked Kryštof.

"No."

"Have you fucked anyone tonight or sucked any dicks?"

"Not yet," she replied coyly. 

"You're not lying to me, are you, Jitka?"

"Oh no, never, Kryštof."

Jakub said, "Some people say they saw you with this man."

"He bought me a drink. He told me he was from the United States."

"Did you do anything with him? Come to the second floor?"

"I performed two lap dances for him. First floor."

"Are you sure you didn't do anything else?" asked Jakub.

"I didn't want to do anything with him, he had bad breath. And . . ."

"And what?"

"And he tried to stick his finger in my ass. I did not like that. Only special friends of mine may enter there."

Kryštof and Jakub chuckled. Mercer noted both shot glasses on the tray were now empty. While they bantered with the girl, he slipped the American's wallet into his coat pocket, unnoticed. 

He asked, "After the lap dances what happened?"

"I got called up to strip on the big stage."

"And did you see this man again?"

"I saw him from the stage. By that time he was sitting with another girl already."

"Which one?" Kryštof asked. "Tell us who."

Jitka thought for a moment. "Štěpánka. I think."

"Is Štěpánka one of the three?" Mercer inquired.

Jakub nodded.

Jitka asked, "What three? What are you talking about?"

Jakub said to her, "Never mind what we are talking about, just answer questions when you're asked. Did you see Štěpánka take the American upstairs?"

"No. It was dark and other men were giving me money, I did not pay any attention to him after that. When I finished dancing I did not see the American or Štěpánka again. Maybe they went upstairs, maybe not."

"You're absolutely sure?" Mercer said.

"Very very sure."

Mercer said, "Why don't you step into the hall for a moment, I wish to speak with Kryštof in private."

Jitka made a production of sucking her lollipop slowly in and out of her mouth for Mercer's benefit and asked, "And after that do you wish to speak to me in private?"

"Perhaps."

"Ouch!" she howled when Jakub smacked one of her buttocks smartly.

He grabbed her by the arm and hustled her across the room. "Outside," he growled.

"You are mean," Mercer heard her say just before the door slammed.

When they were alone Kryštof asked him, "Do you think she's our culprit?"

"I didn't see any specks of blood on that white shirt of hers, but I still want to try a few tests to make certain."

"You and her, alone?"

"If you have no objections. If these tests expose her as a vampire I don't want you or Jakub behind her in the line of fire. One of those darts will go right through her and embed itself in the wall."

"You'll execute her right here?"

"I have a license granting me the privilege to do so in Europe and in the States, and it's legal. That's what you want, isn't it? Even the authorities in Prague don't want a vampire roaming the streets unchecked. Especially if she's murdering citizens."

Lost in thought for a moment, Kryštof rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. It looked meticulously groomed. "How much time do you need?"

Mercer replied, "If I don't show my face in fifteen minutes, check on us. Is this room soundproof?"

"Yes."

"Can you lock the door from the outside so no one inside can exit?"

"As a matter of fact I can. The lock is keyed so it locks from the inside or out." The Czech paused to think some more. "May I ask why though?"

"If that girl is innocent, I mean human, are you worried about her and me alone together?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, if you stick your head in and I'm dead on the floor lock her in here and call the cops as fast as you can dial the phone."

Kryštof grimaced. "Fine. I'll send her back in."

"Just a minute," said Mercer. He hitched up a trouser cuff, drew a silver dagger from the sheath belted above his sock and hid it under the couch cushion on his left within easy reach. Next he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and reached in to fish out a large silver crucifix that dangled from a chain around his neck and slipped the cross out of sight in his breast pocket.

As he readied himself in the event of a battle Kryštof asked, "Mercer, how many vampires have you executed?"

He picked the beer glass off of the floor and watched the bubbles rising to the top a few seconds before sipping. "If luck is with me tonight will make forty nine."

Kryštof whistled. "I know in my lifetime I have done many things, some of them dangerous, some not exactly legal, but I could not put my life on the line day in and day out. What . . ." he sought the correct word, ". . . drives a man like you to such risky work?"

As a private individual, Mercer disliked sharing information about himself. Jet lag had him out of sorts and he didn't want to spend a minute longer in a den of iniquity like the 'Fun Palace' than he had to. In spite of Kryštof's questionable affiliations, Mercer respected the man's manners and the way he ran his business, so he answered the question. "I had a daughter once. I say once because a notorious vampire in Exeter, an incubus, the male equivalent of a succubus, attacked her when she was only seventeen. I tracked down the monster responsible and killed him, my first vampire execution, though nothing can bring my daughter back. She's dead now, or rather, undead."

"She is a succubus?"

"I hope not, Kryštof, that's one of the details I couldn't wring out of the incubus before I staked him. But he marked her and made her a creature of the night. Her current whereabouts is unknown. For the last eight years I spent most of my free time searching Europe and the States in hopes of finding her."

"Surely you would not, I mean, if you found her . . .?"

"Would I kill her? I've often asked myself the same thing and honestly I have no idea what I would do if our paths ever cross."

Mercer changed the subject: "Jitka looks very young." Like his daughter, he thought, but he knew from experience the undead didn't age. Two hundred year old vampires could appear to be fifteen if that's how old they were when they became one. "Do you know how old this girl Jitka is?"

"In this business I have to know how old the girls are. If the cops catch underage girls working here they could shut down this club and my superiors would not think highly of that, my friend. She started here the day after her eighteenth birthday. I hope Jitka is not a succubus; I'd hate to see such a good-looking woman wasted. As immature as she is, she's a good kid, and will grow up one of these days."

"I hope not too, Kryštof." Mercer said, compartmentalizing and putting away any lingering thoughts of his own lost daughter. "Go ahead and send the girl back in here. Don't forget to lock the door."

Kryštof went to let Jitka into the office. She got a huge smile on her face when he left her alone with Mercer and bounded over to the Englishman. When she acted like she intended to sit in his lap again he asked her to place the desk chair in front of him and have a seat. Jitka complied readily, promptly lifting her top over her head as soon as she sat down. 

"No!" Mercer said.

"What do you mean no?" she laughed, throwing her shirt in his face. She wiggled her sunburned apple-sized breasts and moved to put her hand on his cock that had, much to his chagrin, sprung erect for the second time at the mere sight of her. Young Jitka possessed an exquisite set of tits; one of the nipples pierced to permit a gold ring through it. Mercer felt great relief at being capable of preventing her hand from reaching its destination; a succubus would have the strength to resist him if she so desired, or break his arm off at the shoulder. Or something else. 

"You do not just want more talk I hope. I want to please you, I am very good."

"I've no doubt you can furnish me many references," Mercer sighed. As a rule, he didn't have such an immediate physical reaction to lovely women, she might be a succubus to have the power to induce such uncommon lust in him. "Settle down, Jitka, and just sit there and put your top back on so I can ask you a few more questions." 

He tossed her shirt back to her and she flung it on the floor with a maddening grin on her beestung lips. "Why don't you ask while you fuck me? I can never lie to a man when he fucks me."

"Don't be difficult. Now close your eyes until I tell you to open them, there's something I want to show you." He regretted his choice of words the instant they left his mouth.

She clamped her eyes shut, giggling. "That turns me on, Mr. Mercer."

He willed himself not to let his gaze seek the sweet vulva delineated in her shorts and withdrew the cross from his pocket to hold at eye level. "Go ahead and open them now."

She did. When she spotted the cross disappointment colored her face.

"What do you think of this?" he asked.

"It is not what I hoped you would show me."

"Keep watching it. Do you think it's pretty? Why don't you hold it in your hand and look at it up close."

"There is something else I want to hold in my hand and get a closer look at," she confided.

"Now do what I say, Jitka," he ordered.

She exhaled loudly and took the cross in her hand, examined it briefly. "Is this a present for me?" 

"No," Mercer said, feeling reassured, a true vampire would've averted her eyes and the crucifix burned the holy hell out of the skin of her palm.




Agent of S.T.A.L.K. in Prague



Jitka twirled a strand of hair around a forefinger. "It is warm in here," she said.

She rose out of the chair and pushed her shorts down to her knees. Mercer couldn't help but stare at her shaved pussy. With nothing covering it to obscure the view Mercer found it more beautiful than he imagined. Her lips flowered below the precious mound, the fullness of them the cause of the vivid prominence when hidden by the crotch band of her shorts. Bare now and allowed to unfold without the blue fabric to contain them, they took on the true shape nature intended. The girl turned her back on him to slide the pants to her ankles and lift each of her feet gingerly out of them. A handprint from when Jakub struck her glowed redder than the sunburn on her fabulous bottom that matched the one on her breasts. With her slanted forward in that position, her buttocks parted and Mercer saw more than her vaginal lips unfolding. The swollen wrinkled ring of her anus hovered centimeters from his nose. His erection prodded his slacks. Jitka smiled provocatively over her shoulder, hands reaching up to spread the cheeks of her behind apart. Her hairless asshole pooched out obscenely and the flaps of her pussy separated to expose moist folds of pink flesh.

Now Mercer could smell her. He rolled his eyes. Although he sustained a hopeless erection he'd had enough tomfoolery out of her for the night. "Stop posing, Jitka. Leave off right now!" 

She straightened up, took the sucker out of her mouth and straddled his thighs, licking at his neck. "I know you do not really mean that." The cheeky bitch squeezed his cock with impudence and breathed in his ear, "Mmmm, you're a big boy and I have a nice hot place waiting just for you. I know your dick wants to say hello to my pussy." 

Mercer pushed her away. "You bloody minx, fetch me one of those shot glasses off the tray."

Jitka undulated over to the desk, exaggerating the roll of her hips. She returned with the glass saying: "Why don't you take off your clothes and those silly sunglasses so you can make me a very happy girl?"

He snatched the glass from her hand and poured a measure of his beer into it. "Turn around, young lady, and stick your arse out again."

She whispered, "I knew you would not resist me long," and obeyed Mercer's instructions. Her ass shimmied in his face and he saw how surprised she was when he splashed her bottom with the beer in the shot glass. "I think you are a very strange man, Mr. Mercer, but do whatever you want to my body that pleases you."

The wetness caused by the beer shined on her bottom cheeks and dripped down her thighs. Jitka began to wag her ass again when she found herself jerked suddenly facedown over Mercer's lap. He pinned both her wrists in his left hand and slapped both of her fat asscheeks three times apiece, harder than Jakub had. The girl gasped out in pleasure instead of pain.

Mercer said gruffly, "I can see you've recently spent some time sunning yourself on the embankment of the Vltava." The beach located along the river in the fifth Prague district was a favorite.

"I enjoy showing my body and watching people stare. You should join me there some afternoon for a picnic on the sand."

"You'd make love to me in broad daylight, wouldn't you?"

"Mr. Mercer, I would fuck you before you even opened the picnic basket."

"To tell the truth, I'd find you more attractive if you worked in a shop or a café rather than in a sex club."

"You want me to quit? Who would pay my bills? You?"

"Why not find a boyfriend and lead a normal life? Do you enjoy being a slut so much, renting your body for the satisfaction of strangers, like the man with bad breath you told us about?"

"I love to fuck and my body craves attention."

"A young woman as gorgeous as you can attract all the attention she wants. Why do you have to work here?"

"And why do you have to ask so many questions? I just want to fuck."

Mercer rolled his eyes again. "If you won't listen to reason I'm going to warm that young bottom of yours to point out the error of your ways."

Jitka smirked and shook her asscheeks like a wanton. "What are you waiting for then, Mr. Mercer?"

He started to tan her posterior with the flat of his right hand, but she neither fought him nor cried out. The more he spanked her, the wetter she got. The flesh of her buttocks leaped and jiggled under the fierce smacking, growing redder and redder. With her wet sunburned behind it shouldn't take long before he got his message across. When he began punishing her, the lips of her pussy had been closed, however now she was wide open, the heady aroma of female arousal cloying the air around him. This would not do.

So he paused to inform her: "It defeats the purpose to spank a girl who is too sexually excited." 

Then Mercer reached across and plucked the sucker from Jitka's mouth. It was sour apple green with a gum or chewy candy center mounted on a stick, and sucked on long enough to be the size of a marble and just as smooth. Mercer ordered her to spread her thighs and Jitka eagerly followed his instructions. Elevating her ass, he touched the slick green globe at the end of the stick to her charming anus and applied pressure until it breached the inadequate defense of her clenched sphincter muscle. The sucker disappeared into her bottom. Groaning, Jitka waved her bum around with the stick jutting like a small white antenna from her asshole. Continuing to hold her arms powerless with his left hand, Mercer sunk first one finger, then a second, into her splayed fragrant pussy and massaged the rough patch of flesh behind her pelvic bone. He started off slow with a gradual acceleration of speed and friction to the girl's sensitive G-spot. Jitka came twice in the first ninety seconds, crying out in delight. Before another minute elapsed she cried out as a body-quaking squirting orgasm sprayed vaginal fluids across Kryštof's office to spatter the wall. Three squirts later her quivering form went limp as a dish towel and Mercer thought she'd passed out from the intensity of the pleasure she received from his ministrations. She gave a little squeak however when he popped the sucker like a cork out of her anus, resulting in an illicit but exciting involuntary contraction and expansion of her poor sphincter muscle for several seconds thereafter. Suddenly a fart escaped the enlarged grommet of wrinkled skin before it closed tight again. She laughed at the indiscretion. 

"Open your mouth, you rude trollop, here's your candy back," scolded Mercer.

Jitka accepted the sucker in her mouth without complaint when Mercer held it up to her lips. Afterward he began paddling her bare ass in earnest with his bare hand. Juice dripped out of the girl's pussy until the lengthy session ended and Mercer knew he'd failed to get his point across.

Kryštof and Jakub reentered the office during the last two or three minutes of her thrashing. They watched with approval and commended the Englishman on his skill. Kryštof said, "I must say, you British really know how to discipline women."

Mercer said, "Some women are just incorrigible, but Jitka is beyond redemption. At least she's proven without a doubt she's no succubus."

"What do you mean I cannot suck?" Jitka asked, indignant, her hair plastered to her face. 

She crawled out of Mercer's lap, knelt on the floor between his knees and had his cock out of his trousers and in her mouth before he could stop her. He pulled her hair to lift up her head and his erection slipped from between her lips. She wrenched away from him and, not to be denied, swiveled around to lower herself quickly onto his upstanding member. With a celerity that surprised Mercer, she unerringly guided the head of his dick to the tight socket between her buttocks and swiftly sank down to embed him to the balls. He and she groaned at the same time.

Bouncing up and down on his length, she uttered, "Ohh, I love that. Kryštof, I want you and Jakub to fuck me too. All three of you fuck me at the same time."

Kryštof and Jakub cackled in delight to each other, the threat of a succubus at large in the 'Fun Palace' far from their minds. Jakub needed no more encouragement than the girl's invitation and unzipped his fly in a trice. From his vantage point, Mercer's eyes saw below her tummy where her pussy gaped wide open, available for immediate occupancy. Jakub filled it. Through the thin layer of membrane separating her rectum and vagina Mercer felt the presence of Jakub when he entered the girl's other cavity between her legs. Buried to the hilt in Jitka's bunghole, Mercer became aware of a heightened tightening on his own cock as Jakub plunged himself deep into the girl, as well as every subsequent fevered lunge inside her crowded loins. He tried to refrain from moving at all, but Jitka jounced on the two dicks inside her with great abandon and the notion of remaining motionless proved impossible for Mercer. The delirious pleasure spiraling through his body clouded his judgment. He wanted no part in pleasuring this girl regardless of the fact she'd been so anxious to initiate the proceedings and her extreme willingness to follow them through to the end. 

"See what you've started, Mercer," laughed Kryštof as Jitka swallowed the man's cock whole in one gulp.

Repeatedly Jakub and Kryštof thrust into the girl's pussy and mouth as Mercer tried to withdraw himself from the humid depths of her ass. The combined weight of Jitka and Jakub prevented him from doing so. Kryštof tugged at her hair to facilitate fucking her face. Drool dripped off Jitka's chin onto her heaving breasts and the repetitive motion of Kryštof's relentless probing produced a steady "glug-glug-glugging" from her; it only stopped when she took him out of her mouth to articulate an impending orgasm. They occurred with greater frequency as the minutes passed. Jitka's little squeaks and breathy moans graduated to strident cries and finally mindless screams. Her back arched, breasts quivering and a shudder wracked her body that almost shook Mercer's spine loose.

Jakub grunted as he came but kept pounding away. Kryštof gasped next and clutched Jitka's face to his stomach with both arms wrapped around the back of her head. The muscles in the girl's throat worked fervently as she swallowed time after time. At last Mercer could hold back no longer and spasms originated in his member that emanated throughout his entire body as sperm jetted out of him in six or seven strong spurts. The dizzying sensation weakened him and he fell back against the couch cushions on the brink of being insensate. When his chest stopped laboring like a frenzied bellows he saw Jakub standing on shaky legs. Mercer managed to pull out of Jitka's overworked anus. She collapsed on the floor before him with semen oozing from both heated orifices between her thighs.

Mercer staggered to his feet wanting to zip up his pants, but was still too rigid to accomplish that with any degree of comfort. He made the best of things by retrieving his trenchcoat from the armrest to hold at waist level until he could make the necessary adjustments. Kryštof and Jakub rained compliments on Jitka and she beamed back at them while reclining on the floor, supporting herself now on one elbow. She turned her head to give Mercer a satisfied smile but he looked away from her.

"Can we get on with the business of the succubus now?" he asked Kryštof, who had stepped behind his desk to rummage through a drawer for some unknown reason. 

Mercer would soon learn why.

"Jakub, why don't you and Mercer use the downstairs office to interview Štěpánka and Barbora?"

Mercer frowned and busied himself with his zipper. Jakub knew better than to question his boss. As they made to leave Kryštof came back around his desk with something bright red partially hidden in his hand. He extended his other hand to Jitka to assist her getting to her feet. 

Without looking at them he explained, "I have a few things to finish here. I'll rejoin the two of you as soon as I can."

In the hallway Mercer folded his coat over his left forearm and realized he'd forgotten the silver dagger hidden among the couch cushions. He reentered the office to get it; Kryštof had his back to him. Jitka couldn't see Mercer either, not bending forward in the middle of the room over the back of the desk chair. Down on one knee, Kryštof was preoccupied with telling the girl what a pretty pussy she had as he went about inserting a large butt plug between the cheeks of her ass. She squawked as the widest end of red conical device vanished into her anus. Unlike Jakub and himself, Kryštof had yet to zip up his pants.

So much for the chap's manners, thought Mercer. Recalling his own behavior only minutes ago he felt like a hypocrite.

He coughed to indicate his presence. "Excuse me, I forgot something."

Kryštof's head whipped around, embarrassment on his face. He quickly stood and shuffled to one side in a guilty effort to shield his activities with the girl bent over the chair. Mercer fetched his dagger and spotted his glass of beer still setting alongside the edge of the couch. He picked it up too before stepping back into the corridor. When the door closed behind him he heard it being locked with a decisive click. 

Jakub grinned, "What were they doing?"

Attempting to keep the contempt out of his voice, Mercer said, "Kryštof is having a talk with her." 

"I'll bet he is. I do not doubt he will pay you a bonus."

"Why?"

"In the short while Jitka has worked here she has become one of his top earning girls. He has wanted to have relations with her since she first walked through our doors. He's not the only one, I must include myself. My thanks, my friend."

To wet his dry throat Mercer sipped at his beer, warm and gone flat. "I'd think both of you could have any one of the girls working here anytime you chose."

"We would have to pay, like the customers. And exchanging money for love is something I am, fortunately, still too young to have to do."

May you live so long, thought Mercer bitterly. 

Jakub added, "You did not seem to enjoy your encounter with Jitka. I wonder why."

Mercer sidestepped his inquisitiveness. He now regretted disclosing facts about himself to Kryštof and wouldn't reveal a thing to Jakub. He answered curtly, "It's past midnight already and there's much work to be done. Shall we get on with it?"

The ponytailed security chief appeared nettled by Mercer's brush-off, but he only shrugged. He punched a number into his mobile phone and his irritation manifested itself during the conversation. "Victor? This is Jakub. Is Barbora still occupied? If they're only dancing then intervene and bring her to the downstairs office. No, I could give a fuck what you have to tell her, just get her ass down there." He closed his phone with a snap, marched down the noisy corridor without another word and took the stairs to the first floor. 

Maybe he wasn't too keen on taking the lift either.

Mercer noted more customers crowding the 'Fun Palace' than earlier. He questioned the wisdom of allowing greater numbers of people in with a murderess on the loose and mentioned it to Jakub.

"It's Dušičky, man! You cannot expect us to close our doors to the public, especially during a holiday. We have a business to run. You know the suspects are being watched. The situation is contained and under control."

"Is it? What if the killer isn't one of the three girls?"

Jakub opened the padded door of another soundproof office, a duplicate of the one upstairs right down to the stains on the couch. He said with one of his smirks, "I would say that's more your problem than mine."

The sum of Mercer's weariness, disgust and anger at his own hypocrisy surfaced. It transferred to Jakub's general disregard for the gravity of their present situation, the safety of others, particularly his cavalier attitude and perception of women, the lack of respect and dignity he afforded them.

Mercer set the flat beer on the desk and grabbed Jakub's lapel to drag him close. "Whether you think so or not, I'd say this is your problem too."

Jakub smacked Mercer's hand away and threw a punch at his face. He dodged the blow with ease, got a firm hold on Jakub's left wrist and twisted it up between his shoulder blades. The man was big as an ox and as strong as one. He stomped at Mercer's instep and wound up on the floor, his feet kicked out from under him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Mercer?" Jakub shouted. "You work for me."

"Fire me then."

Jakub scoffed, "I contracted you to do a job. I'll be damned if you think you can quit! What's your problem anyway?"

The man was right; Mercer's behavior was unprofessional and childish. He offered a hand to help the security chief up. "I apologize. Let me do my job so I can get out of here. I'm quite tired." Sick and tired!

The apology didn't make Jakub any more amiable. "If these surroundings are not to your liking, Mercer, keep your feelings to yourself. You roughed up one of my men already and now you attack me. One more outbreak of violence out of you and I will register a complaint with your boss at S.T.A.L.K."

Mercer gave Jakub one of his business cards. "Like I said to Alexandr when I first got here, look me up if you want to indulge yourself with a second round. I don't advise it." 

"You son of a bitch!" the security chief jeered. "I have a very powerful organization behind me."

"Good! You'll need the manpower if you want to tangle with me, Jake." 

Jakub started to say something else when a rap on the door interrupted him. "Come in," he grumbled.

An unhappy girl with a mass of curly blonde hair and long legs strutted into the office, followed by another bouncer in a tux. This wasn't Jakub's night; she tore into him straightaway with a stream of verbal abuse.

"What do mean having Victor take me off the floor? You cost me three thousand Korunas! I had a drunk customer and Zdeňka is probably sucking his dick right now, thanks to you!"

"Put a sock in it, Barbora. We're just going to ask you some questions and then you can return to the floor. There will be plenty of other dicks for you to suck tonight. You will get your fair share. If I know you."

"Questions about what?" she demanded.

"This gentleman here will tell you. Mercer, do you want to interview Barbora in private? If not, Victor can stay here. There are some phone calls I have to make." He abruptly exited the office reading Mercer's business card.

After the door slammed behind him, Mercer said, "We'll be fine by ourselves, Victor." 

Jakub hadn't given him the opportunity to get prepared like he had for Jitka. He'd work around it. Mercer readjusted his sunglasses with the tip of a finger, they'd slipped down his nose during the tussle. He faced away from the girl to pull the cross back out of his shirt pocket so it dangled by its chain on his chest. 

Victor nodded himself out of the room as Mercer got the desk chair and situated it in the center of the office. He sat and eyed the blonde standing before him. As he expected, another pretty girl, but succubi are never unattractive, this one aged twenty one or two. The nipples of her large natural breasts peeked at him like a second pair of eyes under an orange see-through mini-dress, a thong no bigger than an eye patch matched her fingernail polish and high-heels: black. Halloween colors, Mercer reflected. A tattoo of a cobra coiled around her right thigh, its fanged mouth poised wide open, juxtaposed to her clean shaven pubes. Would a succubus be so blatant as to advertise a serpent about to strike the area where a man entered a woman?

The girl looked Mercer up and down like she might fancy him and said without a trace of venom in her voice, "Are you from the police?"

"No, I'm a private citizen."




Agent of S.T.A.L.K. in Prague



"I will make you a better deal than the one I made with the man on the second floor. Two thousand Korunas."

Outside the possibility of being a vampire, Barbora held no interest to him. He could nevertheless not help from asking her, "Two thousand Korunas for what?"

She stared him dead in the eye. "A blowjob. I swallow."

"No thanks."

The blonde girl raised the hem of her dress while she swung around to put her back to him. She leaned slowly forward so he had a royal view of her rear assets. The mere thread comprising the back of her thong bisected her anal dimple. Each side of her plump mound spilled out of the black nylon covering the lips of her pussy. To leave nothing to Mercer's imagination, she pulled aside the thong to expose all the delights awaiting him. Though the illicit romp with Jitka ended only ten minutes ago, desire rippled through his loins again. Barbora informed him he could make use of the twin orifices for just an extra five hundred, an All Soul's Day bargain. 

Were all the employees of the 'Fun Palace' depraved?

"I only wish to ask you some questions." "What kind of questions, handsome?"

If just one more slut in this dive called him that he thought he'd show her the back of his hand. He took a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. If he messed about on a job for S.T.A.L.K. he might well get himself killed. "I appreciate your compliments, Barbora, but call me Mercer," he said, fumbling for the dead American's wallet. He let her see the driver's license. "Have you seen this man in here tonight?"

Tugging her mini-dress back into place, she turned back toward him to glance at the man's picture. While she did so, Mercer saw her eyes fall upon the crucifix hanging on his chest. 

No reaction.

"Well?" he prompted.

Barbora sighed. "Is he wanted for something, a criminal?"

"Answer the questions, don't ask them. You see him or not?"

"I think you are a policeman, Mr. Mercer."

"Answer my question, Barbora."

"The man with the bad breath. Yes, I saw him."

"Did you have sex with him?"

"While we danced he played with my pussy and fingerfucked my asshole, if you want to call that sex. I made him give me five hundred---"

"Is that all that you let him do?" 

"These are funny questions. Do my answers excite you?" she asked. "No, I don't like the questions any more than the answers, but they're necessary."

"I think you are telling Barbora a little lie, Mr. Mercer." 

She attempted to place a teasing hand in his lap to test her excitement theory, but he gripped her wrist to stop her. This only resulted in her laughing and reaching her other hand toward his crotch. He clutched her other arm before she could touch him and squeezed her wrists until she winced. Her breasts wobbled in her exertions to free herself from his grasp. In such close proximity Mercer smelled the pungent odor of sex on her. She reeked of it.

He pressed on. "Maybe it's you lying to me, maybe you went to the third floor with the man."

"That hurts, stop! Let me go."

"Not before answering my question, Barbora. Did you go to the third floor with him?"

"No, I have not been upstairs with him. With two other men tonight, yes, I went. But not with the man with bad breath."

Mercer eased her away from him. He knew what he wanted to know, a succubus would've torn herself away from him without even trying. Barbora fought in vain against his grip on her, and lost. Staring at the cross hadn't fazed her either.

He said, "Get out of here. Tell Victor or Jakub or whoever's standing outside the door I said so."

She left the office and Jakub entered, smiling and obviously pleased about something. "Two down and one to go, Mercer. I'm sure that makes you happy."

"What are you so jolly about? You departed with a frown on your face." 

"I'll tell you when Kryštof gets here. I want him to hear what I have to say. And you."

Mercer wouldn't give the security chief the satisfaction of asking what it pertained to. "Kryštof is liable to be a while. He's upstairs with Jitka."

"I called him on his mobile. He will be here shortly."

That gave Mercer time to prepare for Štěpánka, the last name on their list. He placed his trenchcoat on the armrest of the couch like he'd done in the other office, with easy access to the pocket containing the dart gun. After sliding the knife from his leg sheath under the middle cushion of the couch, he picked up the glass of beer on the desk.

Jakub asked, "Would you care for another Pilsner? That one is probably not very good."

"It's fine, thanks," said Mercer, setting the glass on the floor next to the edge of the couch. He removed the dark glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose and wipe a sleeve across his damp forehead before putting them back on. The crucifix on the chain went back into his shirt pocket. He combed his fingers through his thick rumpled brown hair and sat on the couch, waiting for Kryštof and Štěpánka to arrive.

"I would not imagine a man like you, Mercer, drinks very much. Or gets much pussy, even though the girls in the club seem attracted to you."

Mercer regarded the man with the ponytail. "And what do you care, Jake?"

"Me? I don't care. I don't give a shit about you."

Mercer yawned. "We have the one thing in common then because you are not high on my list of favorite people either." He sat, relaxed but ready should Jakub take another swing at him.

"Yes, we have that in common," agreed the security chief. "But knowledge is power and I know more about you than you do me."

Mercer supposed Kryštof had told Jakub about his daughter. If he did, that didn't trouble him in the least, but the man acted like he knew something more. Mercer yawned again, still not deigning to ask Jakub a single question. He'd hear what the man had to say soon enough. He glanced at his watch: twelve fifty five A.M. Hurry up, Kryštof! Mercer wanted to crawl into bed in his flat and sleep for the rest of the night and all of the day.

Jakub lit a cigarette and leaned against the desk smoking, neither man saying another word. He stubbed the butt out in an ashtray; Kryštof walked in a minute later. He still wore his tan slacks, but had shed his suit coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Mercer didn't need much imagination to guess what transpired upstairs between Jitka and him.

"Have you interviewed Barbora yet?"

"She's in the clear," Mercer said. "How about Štěpánka? Is she available to talk to now?"

"I spoke to the man watching her on my way down. Benedikt will deliver her here in a few minutes."

Jakub put another cigarette in his mouth but left it unlighted. "I think it's safe to say we have the best possible man for this job, Kryštof."

Mercer hadn't expected faint praise from Jakub.

Kryštof said, "I feel that way too, but why do you mention it?"

"I made a few calls," explained Jakub.

Kryštof fidgeted, brushed his hair back out of his eyes, put his hands on his hips, took them off, got out his cigarette pack. "To whom?"

Jakub flicked his lighter for him. "One was to a friend in our organization, the other to a contact I have at Interpol."

"For what purpose?" Kryštof asked, uncertain.

"To verify Mr. Clive Mercer's credentials more thoroughly."

Kryštof looked at Mercer then directed his gaze at Jakub. "Why?"

"I thought his behavior a bit odd, for one thing. His actions make a lot more sense to me now."

Mercer sat silently, waiting to hear how accurate Jakub's information was. He knew what to expect.

"What are you talking about?" asked Kryštof.

"Well, to begin with, he seemed not to enjoy the little liaison with Jitka. Any normal fellow would still be glowing about having fucked her. He sits there as glum as a fucking prude."

Mercer spoke for the first time since Jakub began talking to Kryštof. "We had a small orgy up there, Jake. You think it's normal for men to cavort with prostitutes in a sex club. Maybe your idea of normalcy differs from mine."

"I think I know why," Jakub said, "Clive Mercer used to be Father Clive Mercer. For almost ten years he was a Roman Catholic priest before he became a vampire bounty hunter. A drastic difference in career fields one might say."

Kryštof took a drag and expelled smoke through his nostrils. "Mercer told me his reasons, even though he did not mention the part about being a priest."

"He also happens to be a defrocked priest. Perhaps that explains why he entered into a new endeavor with S.T.A.L.K."

"Is that true, Mercer?" asked Kryštof. 

"Jakub is not wrong."

"I knew you were squeamish with Jitka, but you don't strike me as the type of man who buggers little boys."

"I'm not," Mercer said, "I'm unashamed of why the archbishop requested I leave the church."

"What happened?"

"Why not ask your head of security, Kryštof? He's the one with all the answers."

"Jakub?"

"That piece of information I was unable to acquire."

Mercer asked, "Do either one of you care about my history? I'm not here for commendations, my health, to make friends or any such rot. I'm here to carry out an assignment, depending on whether we can suss out a murderess."

"This is true, Mercer, but I cannot help being curious."

"If it puts your mind at ease, Kryštof, I helped a woman who became pregnant as a result of being raped obtain an abortion. My actions in her behalf never bothered me; the diocese however had a different opinion." 

"It is my turn to apologize, Mercer, I thought the worst about you," admitted Jakub. "In fact I find that a noble act. But I am puzzled about why you saw fit to spank Jitka as punishment for her choosing to support herself as a prostitute. Pointing out the error of her ways is a noble act too. Or is that just a personality disorder among repressed, randy Englishmen?"

"Act your age, Jake, spanking is a British cliché, nothing more. Regarding Jitka, I regret what I did. I was wrong. She reminded me too much of my daughter and a cog slipped in my head."

"Your daughter Stephanie?"

"You have good sources, Jake. Anything else?"

Jakub produced a pocket notebook and read: "Clive Charles Mercer, born 1966, married Emily in 1984, daughter born the same year, divorced 2001. This I find the most interesting; I wondered where you learned to fight so well; member of the British Commandos '83 through '93, sniper, taught hand-to-hand combat before becoming a chaplain after the first Gulf War in 1991; denomination Roman Catholic, et cetera, et cetera."

Kryštof said, "Put that away, Jakub, we haven't the time for foolishness. If you piss Mercer off, what are you going to do? Call in the cops?"

"He's not leaving. Emily is Irish, Mercer, does she have red hair? Does Stephanie?"

"Why not get back on your phone and call Interpol and find out?"

"I know what happened to Stephanie in 2001, tough guy. I know she's a vampire and you've been hunting for her for years."

"If you or any of your people get within a hundred kilometers of my family, I swear this will be your last Dušičky, Jake."

Jakub ignored the threat. "Our girl Štěpánka has red hair, by the way. She's a foreigner too, not born in the Czech Republic. You are aware that Štěpánka is the Czech pronunciation of Stephanie, aren't you?"

Kryštof shouted, "Put that fucking notebook away and keep quiet, Jakub! Are you trying to disconcert Mercer into making a mistake carrying out his mission with all this silly shit?"

"I just want him to be aware of certain facts, Kryštof," Jakub said calmly.

Mercer stood up and headed for Jakub, but Kryštof jumped in the middle of them. "Enough, you two! I apologize for Jakub."

Locking eyes with the security chief standing behind Kryštof, Mercer barked, "You want me to be aware, do you, Jake? Then you'd best beware of me." 

Before any further arguing ensued, a knock sounded at the door. Štěpánka! Mercer's heart began hammering in his chest. He asked himself was he so tired from traveling and fed up with his current assignment he overlooked the correlation between Štěpánka and Stephanie. The next few moments might be the ones he waited for for eight years. And of all places to finally catch up with his daughter: in a whorehouse called the 'Fun Palace.' Mercer struggled to contain the fear and other emotions threatening to boil over inside him. 

What if this last suspect was Stephanie? Would he kill her? Could he bring himself to? Mercer wanted to hang his head in misery, but had to hold it high. He sat back down on the couch, praying anyone but his daughter walked into the room. 

Anywhere else, anytime but now!

Kryštof asked him if he was ready.

Mercer said he was.

The girl who came through the door had long wavy red tresses and dressed in shiny black leather like a dominatrix, including a studded leather hood masking her face except for zippered openings to see and breathe through. The fiery hair streaming from the back of the hood resembled Stephanie's in texture and color. Štěpánka's height and slender build were identical to his daughter's when she'd become a creature of the night. Her costume (or was it an everyday outfit?) consisted of a leather bra-and-panty set with studded belts crisscrossing her upper torso, all black, like the high-heeled boots that stopped short of the knee. To complete her ensemble she wore leather wristbands and a dog collar, also adorned with chrome studs like the small drawstring purse she carried. Mercer didn't see a buggy whip, perhaps Štěpánka left it in the dressing room.

Would the girl recognize him if he was indeed her father? Mercer adhered to a strict diet and exercise regimen that maintained his weight at thirteen and a half stone for the past decade. His appearance hadn't changed much in eight years, only a little gray at his temples. He noted a couple of tattoos that Stephanie did not have, at least not before, but those might have been added over the years.

Kryštof said to Štěpánka's escort, "Thank you, Benedikt, wait outside, please." 

Mercer launched immediately into questioning the girl. "Do you know who I am?"

Štěpánka didn't speak, only shook her head no.

"Would you remove your mask so I can see your face?"

The girl responded by shaking her head again.

"Have you ever gone under the name Stephanie Mercer?"

She shrugged her shoulders. 

Kryštof snapped, "Cut out the bullshit, Štěpánka, and answer this man."

Mercer asked, "What is your name?"

Behind the mask the girl whispered, "Štěpánka." She'd spoken so softly her voice might be that of any young woman. Whispering made it impossible for him to determine if the voice belonged to his daughter. 

Asking questions with one word or yes-and-no answers got him nowhere, he tried a different tactic. "What country are you from and how long have you worked here?"

Štěpánka shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if bored, neither gesturing nor speaking. Kryštof opened his mouth to perhaps chastise the girl, but Mercer held up a hand to stop him. 

He said, "Do you know why you've been summoned here?"

She asked back in a whisper, "Because of the dead man upstairs?"

The blunt answer shocked the men into temporary inaction. Štěpánka smiled through the opening in the S&M hood, stepped close to Mercer and seized him by the lapels of his jacket. In a flurry of furious motion, she lifted him off his feet and hurled him bodily across half the room into Kryštof and Jakub. The three men crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Mercer lost his sunglasses in the course of events. Štěpánka had effectively distanced him from all his weapons, except one. He strove to separate himself from the two Czechs in order to reach the cross in his pocket. The girl grabbed the man closest to her, Jakub, and jerked his head up by the hair and stared into his wide-open eyes.

"Don't look at her, she's a vampire," warned Mercer, "She can bewitch you just by making eye contact."

His shouted warning came too late. Now Štěpánka squeezed Kryštof's face in one powerful hand and the helpless chap looked at her in sheer terror. She hypnotized Kryštof the same way she had Jakub. Both men crouched on their knees, frozen in place in a deadly trance, their eyes vacant and dull. Mercer clenched the cross in his fist, but spied his dark glasses on the floor out of his peripheral vision and dove for them. If he didn't put them back on Štěpánka would have him under her spell in an instant, cross or no cross. If she accomplished getting all three of them under her dominion they were doomed. She'd suck the life energy out of them, leave their mutilated corpses behind and be free to depart the 'Fun Palace' and Prague to wreak havoc elsewhere on the continent.

Štěpánka gleaned Mercer's intent and kicked him hard in the chest. He gasped as he rolled across the carpet to smash into the wall with enough force to dislodge a picture hanging above him. It fell and the corner of the frame struck his forehead, opening a cut. Blood trickled down the side of his face. He watched Štěpánka kneel to pick the glasses off the floor. She turned them this way and that while examining them. Finally she crushed the sunglasses in her fist. Mercer fought to avoid losing consciousness. He scanned his chest through drooping eyelids for the cross and saw no sign of it or the chain the crucifix depended from. During his tumble the chain probably twisted around his neck, he must be lying on top of the cross! He closed his eyes to feign being knocked out as Štěpánka approached him one slow step at a time. 

The office may be soundproof, but the heavy thump when he hit the wall should have alerted Benedikt. No one stuck a head through the door to investigate though. The music thundering out of the giant suspended speakers on the first floor either covered up the noise inside the office or Benedikt wasn't paying attention. Mercer heard Štěpánka's deliberate footsteps come to a stop. He lay there terrified, helpless as a newborn. Nothing happened for several moments until gentle fingers stroked along his jawline.

Štěpánka murmured, "Such a pretty face you have, daddy, too bad it's bleeding. Let me see what I can do about that."

Mercer paid no attention to the girl's voice, preoccupied with horrific thoughts stacking up in his mind. He sensed her leaning over him, confirmed when the leather bra touched his chest. The smell of sex and apprehension drifted in the air. Her hands moved his head. Now she'd thumb open each of his eyes and put him in a vampire's trance or he'd feel fangs bite into his neck, but neither happened. 

A tongue licked at the fresh blood seeping from the cut on his forehead before licking down his cheek to capture and savor every drop. An eternity later Mercer felt the lips of her mouth touch the wound and begin to suck. He wanted to scream but stayed stock still, beyond caring. Next stop: death. 

"Mmmm," she purred, "Your blood tastes so sweet, daddy, I think I will save you for last, for dessert." 

She'd called him daddy twice. Štěpánka was Stephanie! He expected to die sooner or later working for S.T.A.L.K. but to be slain by his own daughter grated like sandpaper on his soul. How ironic, how ignominious. Thoughts of what Stephanie had done as a succubus for eight years chilled him. How many men had she laid with, how many had she murdered? Shame swept over him, joining the terror holding him enthralled.

The weight of her body lifted off of him and he heard her retreating footsteps. He kept himself from shuddering, so she was saving him for last and inadvertently giving him one more desperate chance. The sound of two zippers reached his ears. Mercer dared not move, not yet, but cracked his eyelids enough to see. Štěpánka knelt in front of Kryštof and Jakub massaging their cocks until each man's member jutted erect from his open fly.

"Stand up, you two," she commanded, never taking her hands off them as the two men obeyed like zombies. "As I start to suck each of your dicks the trance will be dissolved, but you are not to move, just stand there. I want you to feel what I'm doing and enjoy the pleasure as much as I do. You will still be under my spell," Štěpánka chuckled, "In more ways than one."




Agent of S.T.A.L.K. in Prague



She sucked on Jakub first and his eyes came into focus, the orbs bulging from their sockets. When his erection glistened with saliva from head to balls, she asked, "Did that feel good?"

"Yes, Štěpánka."

She deep throated him again and asked, "Do you want me to make you come, Jakub?"

"Yes, Štěpánka."

"How long will it take you to come in my mouth, Jakub?"

"Not long, Štěpánka, very soon."

Still gripping Jakub in her left hand, she began sucking on Kryštof's rigidity. His eyes popped open, bright and aware, he groaned as Štěpánka made love to him with her mouth.

"Kryštof? I want to taste your sperm. You're not going to deny me, are you?"

"No, Štěpánka."

"Promise me, I expect a lot out of you."

"I promise, Štěpánka. That feels so good."

"What feels good, Kryštof?"

"Your mouth does when you suck me like that."

"Are you going to come soon?"

"Yes, Štěpánka."

"Not too fast, Kryštof. It's Jakub's turn again."

Štěpánka alternated between the two men, teasing one then sucking the other, but occasionally she glanced over at Mercer to ascertain he still lay stretched out prone on the floor. He plotted his every move, each step he would take toward the dart gun, getting his hands on it and lining up his shot. When she checked on him the next time and bent to service Kryštof would be his best chance. Kryštof stood at an angle, Štěpánka would almost have her back to him. He must react before either man came or run the risk of the girl killing at least one of them. Her mouth came off Jakub and she looked over at Mercer then turned to Kryštof.

Mercer twisted onto his side, flexing his legs at the knees. He sprang quietly to his feet. Thank God he wore tennis shoes, leather soles would have betrayed him making noise. He crept toward the couch with both men's eyes glued on him, but with Štěpánka bowed over Kryštof she'd not see their eye movements. He pulled at the chain around his neck with every step he took so he'd have the crucifix in hand as insurance should Štěpánka catch him going for the gun. 

He almost made it to the couch undetected. 

Kryštof announced his moment drew near. Štěpánka must have looked up and seen his eyes fixed on something behind her instead of peering down at her. She turned her head as Kryštof began squirting, a jet of semen lanced diagonally across the face of the hood, another dripped down the left side. Štěpánka thrust Kryštof away from her and leaped to her feet at the same time. Mercer needed three or four more paces to reach the pistol and the girl stepped between him and his goal with a monstrous roar, fangs flashing. He held the cross up in front of his face and the succubus hesitated, eyes averted from the silver crucifix.

"Back up till you're flush with the wall, Stephanie," he cried.

"No!" she growled like an animal. "You'll fucking kill me!"

"Do as I say, sweetheart. If you don't hurt anybody, I'll let you leave. I won't harm you, I swear."

"You're lying."

"Would your daddy lie? Back up to the wall and take Kryštof and Jakub out of their trance. We'll get out of your way and you can walk out of here."

"Put down the cross!"

"Not until you do as I say. 

"No."

"The entrance is only a few steps from this office. Set these guys free and walk out the front door. You have my solemn vow none of us will raise a hand against you, you can escape." 

"You're trying to trick me."

"Why would a father kill his daughter? Just leave, Stephanie, no one will know."

"Get that cross out of my sight."

"Release these men first, then leave out of here, you can get away."

Judging from the set of her mouth and the eyes inside the hood the girl seemed to be considering the proposal. Suddenly she shuttled toward Mercer and he jumped sideways onto the couch, waving the crucifix in his left hand, his right clawing for the folded trenchcoat. When Štěpánka saw him reaching, she snatched at the coat. He kicked his tennis shoes against the cushions enabling him to move forward, but flopped across the armrest on his stomach. He'd gotten close and his fingertips grazed the leather when she pulled the coat out of his grasp. Half off of the couch, Mercer could do nothing but look up at her.

Štěpánka started to fling the coat away, but her eyes went wide when she felt the object in the pocket. "What's this?" she screeched. Her eyes darkened when she withdrew the dart gun. "You fuck! All along you had this and never intended to let me go. I almost believed you. Bastard!"

She leveled the pistol at him.

Mercer tried to reason with her. "If you kill me with that gun you won't be able to draw the energy from my corpse."

"Shut up! You're a dead man."

As he watched her finger tighten on the trigger he pleaded, "Stephanie, I'd rather die by your hand than that godawful gun. Please, grant your father one last request."

"This is another trick of yours."

"Honey, I love you. That pistol makes a racket people will hear all the way out in the street. If you fire a shot you'll have every bouncer in the club in here. Me, I don't mind dying, but I love you and always will. You can kill me with one bite and let me die in your arms and still get away."

The girl looked quickly at the door and then back at Mercer, wavering with indecision.

"I want what's best for you. No one will know till you're long gone. Please. For me."

She glanced over at Kryštof and Jakub, standing unmoving with ridiculous erections straining from their trousers. Štěpánka laughed at how ludicrous they appeared. She looked at Mercer, smiling.

"Unbutton your shirt and bare your neck," she said.

"Thank you, darling. Hey, I see my beer down there on the floor. My mouth is dry, mind if I have one last sip before I go?"

The smile left her face as she edged suspiciously around to see for herself. Upon seeing the glass, the smile returned. "Sure, daddy, go ahead and take a drink. It's All Soul's Day." 

Štěpánka took one step back and lowered the gun while he eased onto the couch cushions with the beer in his right hand. The second he saw the pistol at her side, he lifted the glass in a toast to her. 

"To you, Stephanie," he smiled.

Instead of touching the glass to his lips he splashed the beer on her chest and dived at her. Štěpánka howled in pain as her breasts and belly burst into flames. He ignored the fire and her screams, his sole purpose to wrench the pistol out of her grip before she gained the presence of mind to put a dart through him. Mercer charged like a defensive lineman and wrested the gun from her hand, forgotten as fire ate her flesh. He fell flat on his back, hauled the big pistol up, sighted and squeezed the trigger twice in succession. The two discharges sounded like champagne corks expelled from bottlenecks. Both darts hit the girl in the chest, at least one punctured the heart. They drove her backward with sufficient force to pin her to the office wall. Her shrieks and screams of pain died with her.

Mercer scrambled to get his trenchcoat to smother the fire. He neither wanted the building to go up in flames nor Štěpánka's body burned beyond recognition. An acrid stench permeated the room by the time he snuffed out the fire. Freed from the spell by her demise, Kryštof and Jakub wandered about stupefied and disoriented. Mercer chunked his ruined coat on the floor.

"Why don't you two guys zip up your pants? There aren't any ladies present anymore."

Sheepish expressions covered their faces. 

"Mother of God, Mercer," rasped Kryštof, "How did you set her on fire with warm beer?"

"Not beer, Kryštof, holy water. I blessed it upstairs not long after Jitka handed it to me."

"That was fucking amazing!" Jakub hooted, "You saved our lives, man."

"I couldn't let her murder anyone else, even a scrote like you."

He laughed. "You had me thinking you were going to let the bitch bite you. I cannot believe how you tricked her."

Kryštof said, "You told Štěpánka that big gun was loud, but it hardly made a noise."

"I lied, the projectiles are gas-propelled." 

Mercer scooped the leather purse off the floor and loosened the drawstring. Inside he found what he expected to find, a thick sheaf of Koruna banknotes; also something unexpected, a pair of bloodstained white panties wrapped around a tubular object. He didn't touch that, he'd let the police unwrap the bloody souvenir in the panties, certain they'd find the dead American's missing penis. Mercer put the purse on top of the desk and faced the girl's burned body affixed grotesquely to the wall. He removed the hood from her head, did a double take upon seeing her face. 

"Hey, I've never seen this woman before in my life. This isn't Stephanie." 

Kryštof said, "No, that's Štěpánka."

"But Jakub said . . ."

"I was trying to piss you off, Mercer, because you'd made me mad. I guess I owe you an apology."

"But she called me daddy."

Jakub explained, "When Štěpánka didn't know a guy's name she called every man daddy."