Fatal Allure Collection

by Woods, Martha

  “Don’t you want to scream and shout and tell me I’ve ruined your life or anything?” Vincent asks.

  The moment of vulnerability is long gone, and his cocky, charming demeanor is back in full force.

  I laugh. “Nah,” I say. “You’ve just made it a bit more interesting.”

  “Well, that’s one way of looking at it.” He smiles. “But know this: this is only the beginning. When Elric is out of the way, I’ll show you what interesting feels like.”

  I feel a shiver go up my spine. Not a shiver of fear, a shiver of longing. I want him then and there. I find I don’t even care that he might be using mind control, a compulsion he’d called it, on me. I need to feel his hands on me, his lips on me. I need to feel his body pressed up closely to mine.

  He stands up and the fantasy slips away.

  “Stay safe Amy. I’ll see you later.”

  And without another word, he vanishes, just like that, and I am left alone with my thoughts. My delicious thoughts of what he meant by making things interesting once Elric is out of the way.

  I want Elric gone more than ever. Of course, I don’t want him to mutilate any more women, but at the risk of sounding like a complete sociopath, it is more about the unspoken promise of what is to come.

  Chapter 6

  That night my dreams are vivid, but not frightening. I dream of Vincent and all the things those cold lips could do to my body. In the morning, I feel a craving inside I’ve never felt towards a person. I don’t want to date the undead, but my body definitely wants to do more with Vincent than I am personally comfortable with.

  I get up early, or more accurately, Rick forces me to get up by showing up at my door promptly at 8 a.m. I asked him yesterday to come by and take me to the range for some badly needed target practice. It is time to start carrying my revolver even when off duty. I didn’t exactly expect him to arrive this early, though. As I get ready, he turns on the TV so I can listen to the news discuss the stream of new murders. The murderer has begun upping his game by killing only two days apart, they say. Women are being told to stay at home, but I know that will not necessarily make them safe. Locked doors don’t seem to keep vampires out, contrary to my belief that they needed to be invited in. If vampires can get into a locked apartment, I can’t imagine that a shaman would have trouble. I am going to have to make a trip to the library and read up on the undead, shamans, werewolves, the whole nine yards—then ask Vincent what is real and what is fake. Not that I really think he will give away all vampire secrets, but maybe he will impart some wisdom to me.

  I have some major guilt as well, watching the burden Rick is carrying trying to solve these murders. I know what is causing all the killings and for once I’m unable to explain to Rick what is happening with science. He would never believe me anyway. Rick is a by-the-book kind of detective. Supernatural things don’t exist, and I couldn’t take him thinking any less of me if I tried to convince him they did.

  “Ready?” I ask as I finish my cup of coffee.

  “Been waiting on you,” he says, getting to his feet.

  We get to the range at 9 a.m. I’m a good shot, but today my mind isn’t where it needs to be. I’m obsessing over Vincent and everything he told me the night before—and that damn dream.

  “Are you all right after what happened to you?” Rick asks.

  “Yeah, I think so,” I say, putting my gun down and taking off my earmuffs. I’ve been aiming for the head and have missed three times. One shot is a dead center, but I know that isn’t enough to take out a vampire, and probably not an evil werewolf shaman either. Aiming for the heart is difficult—maybe if I used a shotgun, I would do better, or at least I would have more of a chance of hitting the target with the spray.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” Rick says.

  “Hey, do you think you can teach me how to use a knife hand-to-hand?” I ask.

  Rick gets a look of surprise on his face. I know basic martial arts already, but not a lot of hand-to-hand combat. It isn’t as if it is really necessary for my line of work. I’m really looking for some training on how to remove the head of a shaman werewolf. I don’t think Rick can teach me that. Even the thought of it gives me chills.

  “I can find someone to start teaching you,” Rick says after a long pause.

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  He drives me home. I try at conversation but little comes up. Rick talks about the murders and reassures me that he is going to get someone to train me in combat.

  “I put a protection detail on you,” he says as he pulls up to my apartment complex.

  “You did what?” I blurt out.

  “Stay inside as much as possible. I’m going to make sure we have an eye on you till we find this freak,” Rick says.

  “You have no right to interfere with my life like that,” I say, genuinely angry.

  “I already had one heart attack seeing that picture of you; I’m not going through that again. Police officers are being placed at your apartment complex just in case. It’s best you tell that friend of yours, Cara, not to go out either,” Rick lectures me.

  “I’m capable of taking care of myself,” I say.

  “Look, we’re closing in on the perpetrator, or he wouldn’t be becoming more active. You know that means he’ll be more volatile, more dangerous than before,” he says.

  I can feel my face burn red. It’s not as if I can’t survive a week or two without getting out of the house; Netflix is great for that. But everyone wanting me safe, trying to protect me, is getting under my skin. I go silent. It is already done—until Elric is gone, it looks like my life can’t go back to normal.

  I don’t invite Rick back up to my apartment. I’m too angry with him. He doesn’t apologize for what he’s done, just tells me he’ll be calling me soon to set up my hand-to-hand combat training. Now I have a lot of free time to do nothing.

  On my way through the lobby, I run into Damon and freeze. I’d forgotten he’d moved into the building. He doesn’t look like he’s had a decent night’s sleep in several days, but when he sees me his face lights up in a smile, showing off his dimples. Instantly my legs are wobbly, and the anger is being replaced with the healthy nerves I get around Damon.

  “Hey, Amy,” he says. He leans casually back against the wall.

  “Hi, Damon,” I say.

  “Still think I’m stalking you?” he jokes. I can feel the blush come to my face. Damon doesn’t seem to notice. He looks like he wants to ask me something.

  “I don’t know what to do with you, Amy. I want to get to know you better. Would you be willing to go out to dinner with me tonight?”

  My brain freezes over. Did Damon just ask me on a date? I stare at him, shocked. It’s as if all my little daydreams are coming true, and yet it’s the most reasonable thing to happen to me since this whole thing started.

  “Don’t answer right away,” Damon teases.

  “You look like you need to get some rest,” I tell Damon. What? Do you need some rest? Am I trying to tell him he looks like crap? And I haven’t even accepted his offer.

  “Yeah, I’ve been up all night. I’m going to go in and sleep,” he says.

  “Do you work the night shift?”

  “Something like that,” he says. This guy is a total mystery to me—lurking suspiciously at crime scenes, calling me in the middle of the night, by some coincidence moving into my apartment building—but I am being given the opportunity to get some answers, at the very least, and maybe even get to know him more. And if I am out with him, I won’t have to worry about a vampire coming in to harass me with his supernatural drama again.

  “So…dinner? Where’d we land on that?”

  “I’m down,” I say, trying to sound smooth.

  “I could pick you up at your apartment, seeing as we both live here and all. What number are you?”

  I tell him because I don’t think he’s a threat to me. And anyway, if he really has been stalking me, he could have found out on
his own easily enough. I’ll gauge his actions tonight at dinner and decide for sure whether we can trust him or not.

  “Cool, I’ll knock on your door around 7, when the sun goes down. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I say as I run a hand through my hair, attempting to look casual.

  His eyes dart down to the gun that is holstered at my hip.

  “Been to the range?”

  “Yeah, a little target practice. A girl can’t be too safe,” I say.

  “If you have a conceal carry you’re welcome to bring it. Just don’t shoot me,” he flashes a smile.

  Is he inviting me to go out with him armed? Really? I feel a flush deep inside, liking Damon more and more.

  “I’ve got one too,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind me being armed. It’s been a little unsafe walking the streets these days.”

  “No, not at all,” I say.

  He nods his head and starts towards the elevator. I need to go up as well, but now I feel awkward riding the elevator with him, seeing as we’ve basically finished our conversation. So, I linger in the lobby. I’ll just check my mailbox and then catch the next elevator. I may be as awkward as they come, but at least I’m tactical about it.

  “I’ll see you at 7 then,” he says. “Want to drive separate or is riding with me okay?”

  “I can ride with you,” I respond.

  “Cool, see you then.” He does a little wave and disappears as the elevator doors shut him in.

  I wait anxiously for the next elevator. I have it all to myself, and as soon as the doors slide shut, I do a little dance to get the jitters out. Damon just asked me on a date, he wants to date me and get to know me. Oh my god! I can’t believe it. After all the awkward conversations I’ve had with him, he doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot. But what does he do for a living? I wonder. He said he works the night shift. Where? I guess that’s a question I can ask over dinner. The whole dating process is really a mystery to me. I usually just sort of fall into my relationships. It’s the leaving them part that I do deliberately.

  Once I’m calmed down I pull out my phone and dial Cara’s number. After two rings, I hear her sleepily pick up the phone.

  “Damon asked me on a date,” I blurt out.

  “Amy?” she says sleepily. Even though it’s early afternoon, I’m not surprised. It’s the weekend. She’s probably catching up on some much-needed sleep.

  “Yes, sorry for waking you, but Damon and I are going to dinner tonight!”

  “Oh my god, are you for real?”

  “Yes! He just asked me. Oh god, what am I going to wear?” I say. Well, something that I can wear my concealed carry under. That certainly limits my wardrobe on sexy outfits.

  “Just be casual with him. It’s the first date. Don’t want to overdo it. I don’t think he’ll take you anywhere too fancy,” Cara says. I can tell she is waking up more.

  “Right, casual.”

  “It’ll be fun. In all this madness, at least you get to go out,” Cara says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “My parents begged me to stay inside because of all these murders. They want me to come home.”

  Right, the murders. My good mood starts to slip away no matter how hard I try to hold onto it. Suddenly, the memories of my nightmares feel very real again as I think of all the women who have been murdered. Their faces appear in my mind as if their ghosts are standing right in front of me. I hear Cara talking, but I can’t concentrate on what she’s saying. I’m standing in my kitchen, and suddenly the dead are surrounding me. I don’t know if I should scream or apologize to the girls who are staring at me, their faces forlorn and accusatory.

  “Amy, Amy are you there?” Cara says, her voice jarring me back to the present. I watch the apparitions disappear. I touch my face, and tears are coming down my cheeks.

  “Y…yeah, I’m here, sorry.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I just got distracted.”

  “I’m worried about you there alone, Amy,” Cara says.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got Bella—” a horrible guard dog, really “—and I can ask Damon if I need help,” I say. “Maybe I could ask him to sleep on my couch if things get any worse.”

  “You should ask him to sleep in your bed,” Cara says.

  “Not on a first date!” I don’t have anything against that, but I tend to find that the guys stick around longer if you make them wait a bit. Usually, it wouldn’t make that much of a difference to my non-romantic sensibilities, but Damon…I am starting to seriously crush on Damon.

  “I’m just saying, might do you some good; you’ve been so uptight lately.”

  “One thing at a time, Cara. Let me see if I can survive having a normal conversation with him first,” I tell her.

  Cara laughs over the phone. I can hear her moving around–likely getting out of her bed.

  “Okay, I’m heading out of town. Anything to make my parents stop having a heart attack about me. Let me get dressed and packed. I’ll text you later when I get to my parents’,” she says.

  “All right, thanks for talking to me.”

  “Anytime. You have fun tonight. Give me all the details in the morning,” Cara says.

  I agree and hang up the phone. Bella is looking at me wagging her tail so I take her down for a quick walk. Usually, I’d take her for a run, but not today; I’m actually exhausted. I have goosebumps on my arms thinking about what I saw while I was talking to Cara. The girls looked real enough to touch. What is happening to me? A vampire can’t get inside my head, a shaman wants to kill me, and now I see ghosts of dead girls. Either that or I really am going crazy.

  Back in my apartment, I start to Google vampires, reading up on all the internet has to say about them. But it’s hard to discern fact from fiction. I research older books to see if they have anything to say, books I can find from before Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. I get the feeling that it’s true they can’t come out during the day, and that they have some sort of ability for mind control. I’m not sure if they can transform into bats or if garlic will keep them away, or if they sleep in coffins. The legend about them having to be invited in is obviously false. I’m used to having proof of things—hard evidence that can give me black and white answers to questions that could otherwise trip someone up. This supernatural crap I’ve stumbled into is a whole different world. I need to know its rules.

  Time goes faster than I expect it to. Before long, it is five, and I need to start getting ready for my date. I opt for tight jeans but a long shirt underneath which I can hide my gun. The shirt is a dark blue, falling slightly off my shoulder. I strike a pose in front of the mirror. Casual, but sexy. Somehow, I manage to pull it off. It feels strange going out armed, but with a shaman werewolf out to get me, it seems like the best option. Bella whines her approval at my outfit so I bend down to give her a belly rub.

  I put light makeup on, focusing on my lips to make them look more kissable. I still feel I look dull, nothing exciting about me, but Damon must see something I don’t. I try to muster more confidence—he did ask me out after all–but it is hard to see what a guy like Damon could see in me. I can be confident with a gun, I can be sure against a vampire, but when it comes to him, my heart rate goes through the roof. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me like him so much. It’s likely the mystery that surrounds my neighbor who stays up all night and for the most part, keeps to himself. I do like to solve a good puzzle; call it an occupational hazard.

  He knocks promptly at 7. I open the door and hold my breath. He is wearing jeans and a button-up shirt, tight fitting. I’m not sure where he has hidden his gun, but my hands are itching to explore that form to find it. He smiles at me, scratching the back of his head. He has his hair combed for a change, and…is he acting shy around me?

  “Sorry, I'm actually not used to asking women to go on dates,” he admits.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, my job doesn’t allow
much free time,” he says. “Especially of late.”

  “My job keeps me busy as well,” I say.

  “I can imagine. Being a cop and all.” He offers me his arm. “Shall we go?”

  I shyly take it. I can feel his muscles tense as my arm winds around his. Maybe he’s as nervous about this date as I am. I say goodbye to Bella and close the door, locking it. Hopefully, Vincent isn’t here when I get back. I have a sudden fear that the vampire might have a taste for the dog, but he seemed disinterested in her before, so I shake it off and try to keep my head in the moment.

  “M’lady,” Damon teases, gesturing for me to step into the elevator first. I flush.

  We walk to his car, an old white pickup truck that can only fit two people comfortably. He opens the door for me, and I slide in, trying to be graceful. Graceful isn’t really my thing. The inside of the truck is clean, even though the outside looks pretty beat up as if it has seen more trails in the woods than actual roads. I buckle my seatbelt, and Damon climbs into the driver’s seat beside me.

  “Is sushi okay with you?” he asks.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had any.”

  “I know this really nice place that’s quiet, so we can talk and stare into each other’s eyes,” he says, not looking at me. He’s being playful, but he’s still shy, I can tell.

  “You’re going to have to stop making me blush so much,” I say.

  “But it’s so fun.” Now he breaks out into a genuine smile as he pulls out of the parking lot. “It’s what I like about you. You’re so open about your emotions. Most girls tend to be guarded.”

  “It’s not nice to make generalizations,” I say.

  “You’re right. It’s probably just because of my limited experience with women.”

  “How can you have little experience?” I ask.

  He keeps his eyes on the road but reaches out to take my hand and bring it to his lips for a kiss. It feels so natural like this is how it is supposed to be, and the feeling slows my heartbeat down. Just a small kiss, so old-fashioned of him. I remember holding Vincent’s hand in my own suddenly, but quickly beat that out of my brain as I focus on Damon’s profile.