Department 18 [02] Night Souls

by Maynard Sims

  The young woman in the photographs was Julia, but it was not the Julia he knew. Where was the spark, the almost consciously defiant tilt of her chin as she prepared to take on the world? The Julia depicted was a shadow of the feisty girl he once knew; the smile was bland, almost vacant.

  “What have you done to her?” he said.

  “Nothing that can’t be reversed. We just took certain steps to make her more docile, more manageable. After all, no one wants a pet that will turn around and bite them. But there’s your proof. Julia is alive and well. If you do as I ask, I will return her to you and return her as she once was. Do we have a deal?”

  Jacek looked from the photographs, to Rachel Grey, then back to the photographs. Slowly he nodded his head.

  “Good,” she said. “Now I want your word that there will be no further investigations into our affairs and certainly in the people you’ve currently had under the microscope. If that continues, then I can no longer guarantee your safety. Do you agree to back off?”

  Again Jacek nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He felt defeated. He’d always known that he was up against formidable forces. Now he knew for certain.

  “Excellent, I knew you’d take the most sensible path,” Rachel Grey said, turning to Carl. “Our business here is done, Carl. Take Mr. Czerwinski back to his apartment now.” She switched her attention back to Jacek. “Carl will also give you a cell phone and the details about how to contact me. Good night, Jacek.” She glided across the room to the door and opened it. “Oh, and Jacek,” she said, looking back at him. “Don’t even think about double-crossing me. Not if you want to see Julia alive again.”

  “On your feet,” Carl said after she’d left the room.

  Jacek hauled himself out of the chair. As he rose, he swung his fist, catching Carl on the side of the head, knocking him to the floor. Carl rolled onto his back and sat up, a smile twisting his lips. “She needs you now,” he said as he rubbed his already-swelling cheek. “But once she’s finished with you, you’re mine.”

  One of the other men stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Jacek’s throat, cutting off his air supply.

  “Get him out to the car,” Carl said, springing to his feet.

  They dragged him through the house and out into the chilly night air. Then a hood was place over his head, and he was bundled again into the backseat of the car. The engine sputtered to life, and they drove off into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Love is a portion of the soul itself, and it is of the same nature as the celestial breathing of the atmosphere of paradise.

  —Victor Hugo

  Faircroft Manor, Hertfordshire, England

  Alice Spur stood in the doorway, watching Karolina as she slept. The poor girl was exhausted by the time they finally arrived at the manor. Exhausted and scared out of her wits. Alice tried to calm her, to reassure her, but the best she could do for the girl was to make sure she was as comfortable as possible. There had been a glimmer of gratitude in the girl’s eyes, but Alice realized it would be a while before she could fully earn Karolina’s trust.

  Silently she closed the bedroom door and went downstairs. She found Holly in the study.

  “Let her go,” she said.

  Holly didn’t look up from the computer screen. “Rachel Grey,” he said. “I might have known. It was that bitch who was behind Saul Goldberg’s defection. He was supplying her cartel.”

  “John, I don’t care. Let Karolina go.”

  Finally he looked up at her. “No,” he said.

  “Are you doing this to punish me?”

  “Doing what? She was a gift, from me to you. How can that be construed as a punishment?”

  She crossed the room and stood facing him across the desk. “I don’t need a pet, John. I’m not like you, and I’ll never be like you. I’m human.”

  “However much you might wish to be, you’re much more than that. Have you been down to the nursery today?”

  Alice flinched and shook her head.

  “Or yesterday? The day before? You’re neglecting your child, Alice.”

  Anger flared in her eyes. “Your child, John. Not mine.”

  “You gave birth to her,” he said reasonably.

  She leaned forward, resting her knuckles on the desk. “And don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that. But don’t expect me to act like a mother to that…freak, because it’s not going to happen.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “It’s a shame. A child needs a mother’s love.”

  “Screw you, John!” she said. She walked to the door and slammed it behind her.

  She took the elevator down to the lower levels of the house. In the last few years, Faircroft Manor had been renovated with no expense spared. Basements and subbasements had been added, and it was one of the subbasements that had been designated the nursery.

  The elevator stopped, and the doors hissed open. She stepped out into a glaringly lit corridor. Walls had been tiled in plain white, giving the space a cold, clinical atmosphere. At the end of the corridor, reinforced glass had been set into a steel door, and behind the door was the results of John Holly’s first experiment: the memorial to his father. The continuance of Abe Holly’s work.

  She approached, walking lightly, not wanting to alert the nurses on the other side of the door, even though a camera set high on the wall close to the ceiling tracked her every move.

  At the door she stopped and peered through the reinforced glass. There were two nurses today, dressed in sterile white, dividing their attention between the two banks of machines set against the far wall. They were unaware they were being watched. But then, why should they be suspicious? Faircroft Manor was equipped with a state-of-the-art security system, and should this fail—which was a remote possibility at best—then there was an eighteen-strong security force who could be summoned at the merest touch of the numerous panic buttons placed at regular intervals along the walls.

  Between the two banks of machines and linked to them by snakes of cables was a Plexiglas box, similar in structure to a maternity-ward incubator but three times the size. Alice could see movement within the box. An arm was raised; long, tapering, gray fingers drumming a tattoo on the transparent wall.

  The baby.

  Her baby.

  A testament to John Holly’s failed experiment.

  She shuddered at the thought that she had actually given birth to this monstrosity. This creature had been conceived by her, nurtured in her womb, and thrust into this world by the excruciating process of her labor.

  As she stared into the room, a torrent of images rushed into her mind.

  Faces.

  Daniel Milton, John Holly, her parents.

  After first arriving here, she’d spent months strapped down to a bed while a team of geneticists and fertility experts tried to impregnate her with John Holly’s seed.

  His grand plan, to build a super-race of hybrids, looked to be a success. When she eventually conceived, his optimism was almost tangible. And the optimism lasted for three months. For three months he played the attentive, almost loving father to be, visiting her at the clinic, taking her for walks in the sprawling grounds, speaking of his hopes for the future; his race and the human race living together in harmony, at peace with each other. She didn’t believe him, of course. She knew only too well the fine words were only for her benefit, to help her to live with the fact that growing within her was a life that could well herald the end of humanity as she knew it.

  It was at the three-month mark of her pregnancy that a routine test revealed that all was not well. It was then that John Holly backed away, and from that point until the birth she never saw him.

  The baby was born and its appearance confirmed the fears of the doctors who had monitored the pregnancy. Holly’s genes were too strong, too powerful, too dominant. The baby had very little human DNA in evidence. When she saw it for the first time, a scream died in her throat. She was beyond voicing her terror, her revuls
ion. The only thing she wished for at that moment was death. It was the only way out she could see, but Holly and his team were never going to let that happen. They needed her alive to continue the experiments, and to this day they were still harvesting her eggs for future research.

  For all their initial disappointment, there was a significant difference with this newborn; a difference the scans had not been able to detect. It might have had its father’s form—the scaly skin, the long predatory fingers, and the lizardlike features. But it had sufficient human DNA to give credence to the hybrid theory.

  It would be some time before they would know if the infant possessed the shape-changing abilities of its father; and that would not be evident until it had feasted on its first human. Along with the life force, it would also be able to take the physical form of its first victim. This happened only once in their life cycle, which made choosing the first victim so important. But at the moment the child was kept isolated until a suitable host could be chosen. Until its first feeding, it would keep its original form.

  As she glanced through the window again, a noise erupted from the room. The Plexiglas box shook as the creature inside hurled itself against the wall. An eerie keening sound filled the air as the nurses rushed to the box, making soothing noises. But it was futile. The creature had sensed Alice’s presence nearby and was trying to escape the box by crashing against the Plexiglas. It wanted its mother.

  One of the nurses turned toward the door, and Alice ducked out of sight. And then she was running, back along the corridor to the elevator, the image seared into her mind of the gray scaly body with its reptilian head and green eyes that seemed to look into her soul.

  Alice knew Karolina had not been given to her simply for fun. John had said something about the girl taking on some of Alice’s duties.

  Which made Alice wonder what she would be doing instead.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Krakow, Poland

  Rachel Grey entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. “A satisfying evening’s work,” she said.

  The girl lying on the bed smiled up at her. “He agreed?”

  “Of course he agreed, to everything. The photographs clinched it. A brilliant idea of yours.”

  Julia rolled onto her side, wiping all expression from her face except for a bland smile, identical to the one she’d used in the photographs. Then the smile broke into a laugh and life rushed back to her eyes. “I knew he’d fall for it. He’s so sentimental, especially where I’m concerned.”

  Rachel sat down on the bed next to the girl and stroked her hair. “He really loves you, you know.”

  “Oh I know, and between him and my parents they would have kept me trapped in this boring, godforsaken country for the rest of my life. The Grants taking me as a pet was the best thing that could have happened to me. They were kind. They taught me English, dressed me well, and only fed from me occasionally. I thought I could want for nothing more. And then you came into my life and everything changed again. I can’t believe we’ve only been together a few months. It seems so much longer.”

  Julia reached up and wrapped her arms around Rachel Grey’s neck, crushing the older woman’s lips with her own. Rachel’s tongue darted out, exploring the moist sweetness of her young lover’s mouth. Julia’s hands were at her breasts, stroking the nipples with her thumbs, feeling them harden. Finally the two women fell backward onto the bed, their bodies locked in a passionate embrace.

  “Can we go back to America now?” Julia said, breaking off from the kiss. “I’m scared someone will see me here. The thought of having to come back…” She shuddered theatrically.

  “You worry too much, my love.” Rachel rolled over onto her back, her fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off. The navy blue skirt was next, followed by her bra and panties.

  Julia took this as her cue and shrugged off her jeans and T-shirt.

  Once naked they entwined again, their lips locked. Julia felt Rachel’s tongue probing her mouth and tried to respond, but suddenly the tongue was snaking down her throat. She gagged and tried to pull away, but Rachel’s hand was gripping her hair, forcing her head down onto the pillow.

  Julia felt a sharp stabbing pain in her side, and made a small sound of resistance. It should have been a scream, but the long, black tongue of Rachel Grey was filling her throat. She kicked and struggled, but the woman was too strong. The pain in her side intensified as Rachel’s fingers lengthened and sought the gaps in Julia’s rib cage, burrowing deeper in search of the precious organs.

  The more Julia fought the stronger Rachel Grey became, feeling the girl’s essence draining into her through the small spiracle-like openings in her fingertips. She pushed deeper, sliding over the girl’s sweating body, all the while her own body changing, reverting. Her tongue was now deep inside Julia, reaching the girl’s stomach, savoring the digestive juices.

  Julia was choking. She couldn’t breathe. Her body was on fire, and she could feel Rachel’s fingers moving inside her.

  It will be over soon, she realized as her mind took refuge in another place, a soft place where death would come as a blissful release.

  I thought you loved me.

  I trusted you.

  I gave you my body.

  I gave all of me.

  There’s nothing left. Nothing left.

  Rachel Grey felt the body beneath her grow limp. She withdrew her fingers and her tongue and let Julia slump back onto the bed. The girl was close to death. It would take hours, maybe even days for her to recover, but then that was the main purpose of a pet: a constant, reliable source of sustenance.

  It had been so easy to seduce her. Rachel had a way with both men and women that made them malleable and suggestible. Persuading the Grants to let her go was more problematic. They were reluctant to part with such an amenable and grateful pet, but Carl Schwab and his men could be very persuasive.

  Eventually Julia would die. One day Rachel Grey would go too far, would take too much. But not yet. She stared down at her, watching the girl’s chest rise and fall with painful, ragged breaths. Had she really only been with her a few months? The girl was right. It did seem longer. More like half a lifetime. She’d be glad to finally rid herself of the silly little bitch. With her whining and pleading and her innocent doeeyes, Julia irritated the hell out of her, but she was useful, and while she still served a purpose Rachel wouldn’t kill her.

  She showered and dressed, feeling more alive than she had for weeks. With no more than a cursory glance at the naked, withered girl on the bed, Rachel Grey left the bedroom and made her way downstairs. She took her coat from the stand in the hallway and walked out into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Thus breathing is a natural way to the heart.

  —Nicephorus the Solitary

  Krakow, Poland

  The four men were armed and dangerous.

  They had witnessed the bizarre tableau that had just taken place between Grey and the girl. Although human themselves, they had been at Faircroft Manor when their employer, John Holly, held his “house parties.” What went on there would make any rock star excesses seem like a church social.

  They waited until the Grey woman had left the building, then checked the basic equipment they had with them. Mobiles, Ketamine, handcuffs, and the keys to the minivan that would take them to the rural and isolated airfield where the private airplane was waiting to take them all back to England.

  The men were keen to get back as soon as possible. The girl would not be so willing, hence the equipment.

  They didn’t know why they had to snatch her. They hadn’t asked. That was not a need to know. In their business they rarely if ever asked why, just who, where, and when. Why was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

  All were ex-military and all had seen action in various parts of the world: Grenada, Iraq, Africa, all known conflicts widely reported. They had also seen plenty of conflict in actions not reported on the news. In Europe, the
Middle East, South America.

  The leader signaled they had waited long enough.

  Using a digital listening probe, one of them scanned the bedroom for movement. There was none.

  Another used a diamond-tipped blade to cut a perfectly symmetrical hole in the glass of the door from the bedroom balcony. Reaching through with gloved hand, he slipped the catch on the lock and opened the door to let them all in.

  Like a rush of cool evening air, they moved silently into the room.

  Julia lay on the bed like a discarded dress.

  Her skin had the pallor of the terminally ill, although she would recover in time. Rachel had been careful not to damage any internal organs as she fed. She took just enough from the spirit of the girl to satisfy her needs. Often the breathers fed at such a frenzy that the human body was destroyed in the process. The soft internal organs were often ripped and devoured at the same time.

  One of the men went across to Julia and felt for a pulse. There was one, faint but insistent. He gave a thumbs-up. There would be no need for the drug. There was no real need for the handcuffs, but they used them anyway, just to be safe.

  When two of them lifted her from the bed, she was so light one man could have picked her up with ease.

  They maneuvered her into the sack they had brought for the purpose and secured the top. All of them were aware of her nakedness and appreciated it, but none of them let it disturb their professionalism. They had a job to do and the price of failure was too high to contemplate.

  From the balcony it was easy to lower the sack to the ground, with two of them holding and two of them receiving.