Dark Rapture

by Hauf, Michele

  He tore another scrap of paper from the wall and tossed it to the pile on the floor. Should have gotten a steamer, he thought, as he surveyed the rest of the room. He’d only done two walls because the paper was coming off in small strips. But it was keeping him busy.

  “Should get the radio,” he said. But as he turned, his feet left the floor and he was pushed up against the wall.

  The hand around his neck pressed firmly, closing his throat until his face turned red. His gum was lodged beneath the grasp and it was pushing hard into his larynx. Too scared to fight or even kick out, Gary awaited his fate.

  A tall man with wavy black hair stood before him, examining Gary’s face, the left eye still half-closed and green from Sebastian’s fist.

  “Leggoofmme,” Gary squeaked.

  “Certainly.” The man released him, stepping back as Gary’s body slid down the wall to land in a pile of wallpaper scraps.

  The man pulled an orphan strip from the wall and tossed it to the floor then offered his hand. “Forgive me, I suppose it would have been polite to shake first, but I didn’t think it mattered. Besides, I’m not here for a friendly chat.”

  Gary stared at the hand that was awaiting his. Who was this guy?

  “Listen, man, I’m going to call the cops if you don’t get out of here right now. I’ve had enough weirdos running around here lately.”

  “You wouldn’t be speaking of Vincent Lyons, would you?”

  Gary met the stranger’s eyes.

  “Seems you have a lot of friends like him, Mr. Rose.” The man pushed his hands into his pockets and eyed Gary up and down. His cool blue eyes sparkled with glee.

  “How do you know my name? And just what did you mean by that?” He was beginning to feel the urge to smash this guy right between the eyes.

  “Vincent told me about you. And I simply mean that your friends have one thing in common.” He looked around the room, then drew his eyes back to Gary, and whispered, “Vampirism.”

  “How do you know about Vince? Who are—Oh no, not you.” It hit him like a hammer on a nail. Francesco!

  Gary backed away. There was nothing he could do except curse himself for letting Scarlet get involved with Sebastian and all his vampire weirdness.

  “What’s the matter, Gary, afraid?” Francesco hadn’t moved, only watching as his prey tried to become one with the wall behind him. “You needn’t be. I haven’t come to harm you, only to leave a message for Monsieur DelaCourte.”

  “Wh . . . what is it?” Gary tried to remain upright, though he felt his legs weaken at the knees.

  “I’ll make a trade with him.” Francesco spoke slowly, eyeing the circumference of the room as he did. “Vincent Lyons for his precious Scarlet.”

  Gary couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A surge of anger pushed him from the wall and halfway across the floor until he was within touching distance of Francesco. “No way, man, that’s my sister. You’re not going to touch her! And you let Vince go!”

  “Temper, temper, Gary.” Francesco waved a finger at him. “Mustn’t get upset. Now, we can’t have everything the way we would like it, can we? It’s either Vincent or Scarlet. But then again, it’s not your choice. Sebastian is the one who must make the decision.”

  “Oh man, I’d like to—” Gary slammed a fist into his palm.

  “I’m sure you would, but I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” Francesco gnashed a fanged smile, pushing Gary against the wall. With an evil chuckle he turned and walked away. “That is all that I’ve come to say. I'd appreciate it if you would relay my message to Monsieur DelaCourte.”

  As his last words hung in the air, he disappeared.

  Gary ran out into the grand room and from there to the hallway, but saw no sign of him. He raced to the front door and stuck his head into the night air. Everything was calm, the palm trees rustling in a gentle breeze. The man had literally disappeared.

  He sank down against the doorframe and breathed the cool air in an attempt to clear his head and held his hand out before him, wondering how long it would be before the shaking stopped.

  “I wish I knew where you were, Scarlet. I don’t like this one bit. There are creatures of the night everywhere!”

  ***

  “Catching a breath of fresh air?”

  “Oh shit!”

  Gary lost his balance and fell onto the front step, catching himself. He had fallen asleep sitting on the threshold, exhausted after his run-in with Francesco. He quickly stood when he saw who had spoken.

  “Oh great! Another one! Well, welcome to Hotel Translyvania, Grand Central Station for the vampires of America.”

  Sebastian.

  “You wanna bite me, too?” Gary pushed the hair from his neck and leaned forward. “Go for it, I’ve got no more energy left for fighting vampires.”

  Eyeing him suspiciously, Sebastian stepped inside and held the door for him to follow. “Gary, what are you talking about? Have you finally flipped?”

  Jumping inside, Gary followed him to the kitchen. “Yeah, I think so, but what did you expect?”

  “What’s going on? I’m not following you.”

  “Well, let’s see, Dracula stopped by earlier for a chat. And he wanted to snack on me.”

  “What?”

  “Francesco, he wanted me to give you a message.”

  “Francesco was here?”

  “That’s what I said. What’s wrong, Sebastian, hearing going? Shit, you know it seems like everyone I know lately is a vampire. I think it’s finally happened. I’m going mad.” He dropped down into a chair at the kitchen table and let his forehead hit the polished wood with a dull thud.

  “What did Francesco have to say?”

  Gary started to laugh. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed the thing to do as his grasp on reality started to slip. “He wants to trade Vince for Scarlet. Can you believe that? I told him he was crazy.”

  As his laughter subsided Gary waited for a clever response from Sebastian, but got none. “So what do you think? What’s the plan this time? Or do I have to trust you again?”

  “Gary, I’m not going to trade your sister, you know that.”

  “But what about Vince? Does that mean you’re going to give up on him? Because if you are then I’ve got to get started. I’m not going to leave my friend to suffer in the clutches of that bastard vampire.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find Vince soon.”

  “Then let’s go right now. Let’s check the bars again for Vince, ’cause just sitting around is driving me nuts.”

  “Fine, we can start early tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “It’s nearly dawn, Vince won’t be out now. If I’m right, I’m sure that Francesco still follows the ways of the old. Which means that the two of them will be sleeping until dusk. And as much as I know you want to take care of this quickly and safely, I can’t do it that way.”

  “You can’t do it what way?” Gary snapped back.

  “I can’t go after Francesco during the day when he is not awake and alert. It wouldn’t be right. The man deserves a fair fight.”

  “A fair fight? I can’t believe this!”

  “Gary, this is between me and Francesco. I know you don’t understand but there’s nothing else I can say or do right now. Not until nightfall.”

  Gary watched the vampire’s exit. As much as he hated to admit it, Sebastian was right. There was nothing they could do until darkness fell. And Scarlet would have to wait another day before she returned to him. “Is Scarlet going to be all right?”

  “She is completely safe,” Sebastian reassured him and closed the door behind him.

  Gary headed upstairs to his room wishing that he had a garlic necklace and a big jug of holy water.

  Just in case.

  Chapter Forty

  Three Harley Davidsons slowed as they passed Vince. He strode down the boulevard, long leather fringes on his pants shimmying against his legs. Man! He'd never seen so much leather on a woman. A
nd they were driving motorcycles. He picked up his pace, catching a sly wink from the one in the lead. The trio was decked out in shiny black leather thigh boots and tight-laced brassieres. They were wild and beautiful.

  Still warm from his last victim, Vince caught up to the leader and slid a finger along the seat and up over her thigh, teasing it under the tight leather skirt that adhered to her skin.

  "Nice bike." He raked his hand through his mane and gave her his best rock n' roll sexy pout. "You looking for someone to party with?"

  The woman looked over her shoulder and winked to her friends. "Hop on, Gorgeous. I think we found what we're looking for."

  Vince glanced to the other two women, both had slick red lips and touch-me-please long hair. "Three girls and one guy? Sounds like good odds to me. Let's go." He found his place behind the leader and slipped his hands around her waist. "Where are we going?"

  "Going to check out a new party spot. It's out a ways, and lots of fun," she yelled over the rumble of the motor.

  "Cool."

  As they sped into the night, Vince slid his hands along the biker’s hot thigh and squeezed, eliciting a moan. He’d definitely have to take his chauffeur right away , maybe before they arrived. It was going to be hard to restrain himself with his legs pressed to hers and that luscious brown hair blowing across his face.

  ***

  It was seven o’clock, and for the first time Sebastian felt his nerves on edge.

  He was on his way to the studio, not the place he had planned on going. Blade, the lead singer for Fury, had just rung him on his cell phone. They needed him to come in and do another edit on the riff he had completed days ago. It seemed the master tape had been mangled in production and they had lost all his stuff, and since tomorrow was the deadline, Sebastian had to do it over. Tonight.

  Bad timing. He had found Vince. Or at least he’d seen him walking the freeway out on the south edge of town just past the DecaDance bar. When driving past the place, the vibrations had grown intense. Francesco was near. Sebastian could sense the presence of his blood child.

  Blade called just as he was starting to follow, and taking his eyes off him only for a moment, he had lost sight of Vince. Damn.

  Thinking this shouldn’t take more than an hour or two, Sebastian tried Gary’s number one more time. No answer.

  “Where the hell is he?” he muttered as he dashed to the elevator. “I hope he isn’t waiting for me at my house.”

  ***

  “What the hell?” Vince looked across the muddy field surrounded by barren trees and a cloak of rosy twilight sky. “Is this a graveyard?”

  “Don’t you like it?” The brunette turned on the parked bike and effortlessly slipped her legs around his waist, locking him in a secure hold. The other two had driven in past the iron gate and he could hear their hoots and yells as they broke open one of the six packs taken from the bike's leather side pouches.

  “Love it, baby.” He licked his lips. The irony of the situation was unbelievable. “You can’t imagine how much.”

  They’d driven for a half an hour to find this place and all the while Vince had thought how wonderful it was they were going so far. And a graveyard! Cool.

  She offered him a beer but he pushed it away and the can fell to the ground as he began to tickle her chest with the tip of his tongue.

  “You look kind of familiar to me. You work in a bar, blondie?”

  “I sing in a band” he said blazing a path up to her mouth with his tongue. “You ever hear of Wild Child?”

  “I’ve dated a lot of wild ones, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, I mean the band. Ah, you’re not the rock n’ roll type, are ya? You seem more the death metal, sacrificial deity type.”

  “Sacrificial type?” She pushed him back. “I usually listen to country. What the hell is your scene anyway? You’re not some kind of S & M weirdo, are you? Cause if you are you can high-tail it right on out of here. We’re just here for a good time, nothing kinky.”

  Oh, I’ll give you kinky, Vince thought.

  “Country,” he muttered and pulled her close to nip at the tender flesh on her neck. “Hate that stuff.”

  “You’re in a hurry, aren’t ya?” she cooed and then began to unlace the glossy leather that sheathed her breasts.

  “Don’t bother,” Vince whispered as he was drawn to her throat by the powerful hunger within. “A country music lover, huh? Well, then, I guess you’ll be getting what you deserve.”

  “Wha—”

  He pushed his hand over her mouth as his daggers sank deep into her flesh. She fought him, trying to squirm from his grasp, nearly toppling the motorcycle in the process. But Vince planted his feet on the ground and held tight, feeling her jaw crush beneath his iron grip. And all the while her sweet blood fed the hunger.

  Velvet life flowed down his throat, quenching his lust and teasing the hunger to new heights. Vince sucked vigorously, feeling the struggle wane, and the woman’s body slumped against his as her heart beat slower.

  And then it happened.

  With two fervent pulses her heart begged madly for life and then burst. Her life exploded beneath Vince’s palm, pushing hot gushers of crimson up and into his mouth. This blood was rich and sweet, an exquisite prize surrendered to the powerful force that commanded it. An orgasmic swoon engulfed Vince’s body and he tilted his head back to take in the dizzying rush.

  The woman fell to the ground in a swirl of mist and Vince grappled for the bike handlebars to keep from falling. He ducked his head to his chest and closed his eyes tight. This was incredible! Death’s blood was so much sweeter than life’s.

  He smirked and giggled as the swoon began its slow departure, leaving him teetering on the edge of reality. He blinked, trying to focus on the girl. It was too bad, he thought, as he looked at her mangled face. She was the prettiest of the three.

  Swiping a palm across his chin he cleaned his face of the woman’s stolen life and then remembered Francesco’s words. He had warned him, albeit lightly, not to kill, because if he did he would have nightmares or something. He couldn’t remember exactly. But it didn’t matter anymore. Not now that he had tasted death.

  “Shit, now I’m going to have nightmares about Johnny Cash,” he muttered and hopped off the bike.

  He scanned the grounds for the other two. They would be easy because both were so drunk. He trooped past the iron gate, high-fiving the wings of the gargoyles, and followed the girls’ voices until he landed upon the short one with curly red hair and a rose tattooed on her deeply bronzed shoulder. “Where’s your friend?”

  “Takin’ a piss.” She giggled. toddling forward and nearly toppling over a raised mound of fresh earth. “Where’s Lynette?”

  Lynette, so that was her name. “Same place you’re going, baby.”

  Vince grabbed her by the hair and pushed his hand over her mouth. He wasn’t sure how much time he had before the other one returned so he wanted to make this quick. He knew that this one would die in his hands. She had to.

  In minutes the redhead slumped at his feet, her head crushed against a new granite tombstone. Vince stumbled backward, fighting to control the powerful blood rush, but at the same time not caring if he did. And so he relaxed, allowing the wicked pleasure to envelope him.

  Clutching a tombstone for support and blinking to clear his eyes, Vince read the epitaph. “Harry Schmitt, Died a poor man but rich at heart. Well, Harry, you have fun with Red here, she’s a keeper.” He patted the top of the cold stone, swiped the blood from his mouth, and went in search of number three.

  Must have gotten lost, he thought, taking long strides across the graves. His steps took him over to the mausoleum. He was going to check each side until the scream brought him around and back to Harry’s grave. The last girl had somehow eluded him and slipped back to where Lynette’s bike was.

  He cursed aloud, and ran for her. Seeing him coming, the girl stumbled away while her eyes raced from her friend's bloody face to V
ince’s sinister approach.

  “No!” she screamed, as he lifted her effortlessly and opened his mouth wide, exposing his razor-sharp teeth. He laughed, relishing her fear like it was an electric current feeding his need for more power. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped her neck, silencing her frightened screams, and tossed her to the ground next to Lynette. He stepped over the bodies and wandered back into the yard where the tombstones surrounded him on every side.

  The night was quiet now, and redolent with the smell of motor oil and fresh blood. Vince exhaled deeply. An animal howled somewhere in the distance and he smiled. Jerking his head back, he howled in response, pulling his voice from his full gut and releasing it to the sky. He began to dance across the graves, disturbing the mist at his feet. Raising his knees high, he howled and yelled and danced an Indian dance in a circle around Harry’s tombstone and the redhead's body. He felt good. Strong and invincible. Nothing could stop him.

  Vince tossed a stone across the yard and pulled his fist down at his side in elation when he saw that he’d hit his target. He pressed his back against the mausoleum wall and looked up to the sky. The stars were in full force, as if the moon had exploded, sending shrapnel across the darkness.

  He reached for another stone in the rubble by his feet and then bent lower to examine the marks in front of him. Footprints. And not his, these were tinier, like a woman’s. They led up to the door and looked as though someone had gone inside. His brow narrowed as he wondered if Red could have had the time to check it out.

  When he pushed on the door, his suspicions were confirmed. There was no way one, or even all three of the women, could have opened this massive thing. Which meant that someone extremely strong had to have gone inside. And recently, according to the still-fresh footprints.

  The door creaked opened and slammed hard against the outer wall, the rusted hinges screaming in the night. Vince peered in through the billowing dust and gloom and saw one thing in the center of the room.

  “Cool.”

  He strode to the stone sarcophagus and examined the intricate carvings, deciding that when he got back to Francesco’s he was going to have to get himself a new coffin. Something fancier like this one, though not of stone. And something with more padding. He rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe with a pillow.