Night Realm

by Darren G. Burton

  Night Realm

  Darren G. Burton

  Published by Darren G. Burton at Kindle

  Copyright © 2012 Darren G. Burton

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The Author asserts the moral right to

  be identified as the author of this work

  Cover Design: Darren G. Burton

  Read the Sequel

  Night Realm 2: Scarlett Dawn

  Other Novels by Darren G. Burton

  Power Play

  Minotaur

  Scarecrow

  Silhouette

  One

  Michael nodded his head in time to the heavy beat of dance music. The night club was pumping and very busy, with a good ratio of guys to girls. He’d taken up a position near the dance floor, leaning his back against a pole as he casually watched the action on the floor.

  One young woman in particular had caught his eye. She was blonde and busty and really knew how to work her supple body. The tiny red skirt she wore barely even reached her thighs, it was that short, and her breasts threatened to explode out of her little white top as she bounced around to the hypnotic beat. Michael felt two kinds of desire surge through him as he watched her. One was of the sexual kind. The other, a deep and burning insatiable hunger.

  Every so often she would cast furtive glances his way, then turn her back to him and move that immaculate butt just for his benefit. That’s what he arrogantly presumed, anyway.

  A drunken guy staggered in front of Michael and stopped, effectively blocking his view. The guy stood there ogling the girls on the floor. Michael tapped him on the back and the man twisted his head to see who was annoying him. Michael waved his hand to indicate for the guy to move. At first the man opened his mouth to protest, but when Michael shot him a menacing glare, the guy thought better of it and stepped aside. Michael continued to glare at him for a moment longer, just to make sure the message had sunk in, then returned his attention to the hottie in the tiny skirt.

  With a flirtatious smile, she moved slowly over to him until she was dancing not more than two feet in front of him. He reached out and touched her arse. When she didn’t object he fondled it some more. The young woman moved closer still, until she was all but giving him a lap dance. The stirrings in his black pants were strong and rigid; especially when she commenced grinding her butt against his crotch. She turned around then, draped her arms over his shoulders and put her face close to his ear.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m Amanda.”

  Her words slurred just slightly and Michael knew she was on the verge of being drunk. He placed his hands on her hips and smiled at her.

  “I’m Michael,” he said, still grinning, displaying two rows of even white teeth.

  Amanda glanced around him. “What are you drinking?”

  “Nothing. But I’ll buy you one.” He signaled a passing waitress who was on her way back to the bar with a tray of empty shot glasses. Michael placed a twenty on the tray and eyed Amanda expectantly.

  “Bacardi and Coke,” she told the waitress, who then moved off and was quickly swallowed up by the swelling crowd. To Michael, Amanda said, “Are you here by yourself?”

  He nodded and offered her his disarming and handsome smile once more for good measure.

  “Flying solo tonight. How about you? Who are you here with?”

  “Just some friends.”

  “Female?”

  Now Amanda grinned. “Why? You want more than one of us?”

  “No. Just checking that you’re not here with a male interest. I’m not looking to tread on anyone’s toes.”

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and said in his ear, “No male interest, except you.”

  Michael breathed deeply of her perfume. It was sweet and intoxicating, as was the underlying raw scent of her young flesh. He fought hard to keep his animal urges under control for now. This was not the place to let loose.

  Five minutes later the waitress returned with Amanda’s drink. The young woman snatched it off the tray and immediately took two long sips from the glass. She didn’t bother using the mandatory straw.

  Michael busied himself running his hands all over her butt and up and down her smooth thighs while Amanda drank her Bacardi. She swayed back and forth to the music. He had her, he knew. Unless one of her friends came along to stuff things up, Amanda was his tonight. He grinned again. Things were looking good in this new place.

  Amanda was just draining her glass when a chubby brunette came up beside her. The new arrival shot Michael a stern look, then said something in Amanda’s ear. The conversation went back and forth between the two girls, then the brunette gave Michael another of those austere glances before disappearing to wherever she’d come from.

  “What was that about?” Michael asked Amanda, although he already knew.

  Amanda shrugged nonchalantly. “Rebecca’s just being over-protective. Don’t worry about her. It’s all sorted. I’m going home with you tonight.” She leaned in close and kissed him, then abruptly pulled back as if bitten and eyed him curiously.

  “It’s a medical condition,” he told her calmly. “That’s why I feel cold.”

  Amanda looked uncertain, her logical brain trying to fight through the haze of all the alcohol she’d consumed.

  “Are you cold-blooded?” she eventually asked.

  “Not really. It’s too complicated to explain. But don’t worry,” he added quickly. “It’s all good.” He straightened up and placed his left arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close. “You want to get out of here?”

  Amanda nodded, most of the uncertainty now gone from her eyes, and together they left the club.

  Outside the night was warm. The streets were almost as crowded as the night club had been. As they passed a small patch of parkland to their right, a fist fight broke out between two drunken guys, with the mates from either side eagerly spurring them on. Michael hurried Amanda past the ruckus, weaving in and out of people, making his way toward the public car park where his red Mercedes coupe awaited them.

  “Nice car,” Amanda commented and lovingly ran her fingertips along the gleaming duco. “Is it brand new?”

  “Almost.” He unlocked the car and opened the door for her. “Hop in.”

  Michael gave the engine a good rev, squealed the tyres on the pavement and sped out of the car park.

  “Where’s your place?” he asked her.

  Amanda’s eyes were starting to flutter from the effects of alcohol and fatigue. She pointed ahead. “Just follow this road and take a left at the next set of traffic lights.”

  Amanda continued to guide Michael through the Gold Coast streets until they were way out in the suburbs, an area known as Riverstone Crossing, only there was no river to be seen.

  Strange name then, Michael silently mused.

  The area was still under construction, with the shells of new houses being built all around. Amanda pointed left and Michael drove down an empty street that was basically all vacant blocks of land. Right at the end of the street they arrived at a cul-de-sac and he parked in the driveway of the one lone house that stood there. It was a two storey structure, with a balcony running along the entire front of the first floor. The house was dark, the only light source emanating from a dim street lamp. Michael looked around as he tailed Amanda to the front door. He saw no one about.

  “Do you live alone?” he asked
.

  “No. I live here with my parents, but they’re out of town for the weekend.”

  Amanda unlocked the entrance door and they stepped inside, where they walked in darkness past a living area and kitchen and entered a guest bedroom at the back of the house. Now Amanda flicked a switch and three down lights illuminated the room, to reveal a comfortable looking queen-sized bed covered in a pink quilt and half a dozen pillows in matching cases. She immediately disrobed and went naked into the adjoining bathroom. Michael shed his black clothing and sprawled nude on the bed, awaiting her return. When she finally opened the bathroom door, her eyes roamed his muscular form and she smiled with approval.

  “Nice bod,” she praised and dove onto the bed with him.

  The ensuing sex was brief, passionate, and at times even a little rough. Michael didn’t care too much for the pleasure or enjoyment of his sexual partners. For him it was all about Michael and satiating his own desires. He did it his way and in his time. Tonight he wanted a quick result as he had a more urgent hunger to feed.

  When the sexual tension had fled his body, he collapsed on top of her with a satisfied sigh, his face buried in her neck.

  It was then that he felt the stirrings in his upper jaw as two long, sharp fangs protruded from the gum line. The scent of Amanda’s warm flesh was overpowering now and he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

  Amanda squealed in both surprise and pain as Michael sank his razor fangs into the soft flesh of her throat. She writhed around under his weight as warm blood entered the channels in his fangs and he sucked greedily on her vein. Overcome with delirium, his eyes rolled back in his head as he fed on the life fluid. Amanda had now gone limp beneath him. She made no sound. She had passed out. Michael continued to feed until he’d drained virtually every drop of blood from her body. When he was done and filled with renewed energy, he sat up, crimson dripping from his fangs and chin. He glanced down at Amanda’s lifeless form on the bed. Her skin had now taken on a pallid, ivory tone. Some blood leaked from the two puncture wounds on her throat and trickled onto the quilt.

  He grinned maliciously. He’d really needed that drink.

  Michael quickly got dressed. He then tossed Amanda’s shed night club clothing onto the bed and rolled it and the lifeless body up in the quilt. He easily carried her out to his car and stuffed her into the passenger seat. After starting the motor he drove slowly and quietly until he was out of the estate, then headed west until he reached an area of uninhabited bush land. There he parked the car and dumped the body about twenty metres away from the road, covering it loosely with a few fallen tree branches. He returned to the car feeling more alive than he had in weeks. His hunger had been satisfied.

  For now, at least.

  Two

  Ryan Fox sat in his car bored out of his mind. He tapped the fingers of one hand on the steering wheel while tugging on his left ear with the other, constantly moving around in the seat as if he’d been sitting on a plane for ten hours.

  What he really craved was a cigarette. Two weeks ago he’d made up his mind to quit. So far so good; but tonight, sitting in his car with nothing to do but watch the house across the street, the cravings were really getting to him.

  He leaned over and flipped open the glove compartment. A small light came on illuminating the interior. Fumbling around within he discovered a few unpaid bills, vehicle registration papers, an empty chocolate bar wrapper, business cards of all kinds - including his own - scattered all about. Damn. There were no smokes to be found. What he did find, though, was a half full pack of chewing gum, the wrapping scarred and squashed and the contents looking anything but appetizing. Ryan squeezed a crushed piece from the remnants of the packet and popped it into his mouth. At least it gave his mouth something to do. He still wanted a cigarette, but the urge wasn’t as bad.

  Returning his attention to the house over the road, he saw nothing had changed. The curtains were drawn and he couldn’t see anything inside. Lights burned beyond those curtains.

  Would there be any action tonight? he mused as he sat there in darkness.

  This was the third night in a row he’d staked out the man’s residence. The first two nights had drawn a complete blank. Nothing had happened. Maybe he was being too obvious by parking right across the street, but he didn’t care.

  Ryan rubbed fatigue from his eyes. He hated this part of his job. Working cheating spouse gigs was almost always tedious, dull and totally uneventful. More than fifty percent of the time it proved to be just wasted time on his part, and wasted money on the part of the concerned client.

  This guy’s wife, Julia, was a nurse. She currently worked the night shift at the Gold Coast Hospital in Southport. Suspicious that her husband may be engaged in extra-marital activities while she was away at nights, she’d called Ryan a few days ago, asking if he’d look into it for her so she could find out for sure one way or the other. Ryan detested these cases, but times were tough and he really needed the cash, so he’d reluctantly agreed to take it on.

  His ‘person of interest’ was a forty-two year old named Brad Davis. Why Julia suspected him of adultery, she couldn’t really tell Ryan when they’d met for coffee to discuss the case and his terms. Just a hunch, she’d said. Women’s intuition or some shit like that.

  Ryan chewed tenaciously on his gum, still fantasizing about a nicotine hit.

  “God, Brad,” he said to himself. “Don’t be so boring. Do something, anything, before I lose my mind here.”

  He may be bored to death, but at least he was getting paid to sit there and watch this guy, he reminded himself. It wasn’t a love job, a freebie. There was cash in the hand. And how he needed that right now. Business had never been so quiet before. The last few months were a financial killer. The Global Financial Crisis - or whatever spin the planet’s politicians wanted to put on it to cover their own inadequacies - seemed to be permeating every facet of life across the globe. Here in Australia it hadn’t been quite as bad as in some countries, but the land of Oz certainly hadn’t been spared, either.

  Ryan checked his watch and saw that the luminous hands were just ticking past nine o’clock. He sighed heavily, leaned back in his seat and arched his back to try and stretch it. He was only twenty-five, but sitting in the one spot for too long still gave him aches and pains and stiffness. Maybe he’d played too much football in high school? Too much sport in general. He’d been a bit of a sports junkie during his teenage years; rugby league, cricket, soccer, triathlons, abseiling, tennis and squash. The only physical activity he indulged in these days were regular gym workouts, and the very occasional game of squash with a mate.

  Across the road the lights went out inside the house.

  Ryan sighed heavily again. “Great! The boring bastard’s going to bed now.”

  A moment later he heard a low rumbling sound. A sliver of light appeared beneath the automatic garage door as it started to open. A car engine fired to life. When the garage was fully open a white Toyota Camry Altise drove out and onto the street, the garage door closing behind it. Finally Brad Davis was on his way to somewhere.

  Ryan started his car and followed. He waited until his quarry had turned right at the next corner before switching his headlights on. Keeping a respectable distance between them, Ryan tailed Brad onto the Gold Coast Highway, where they drove south toward the plethora of highrise buildings that made up the tourist metropolis of Surfers Paradise; the congested skyline resembling a giant bar graph. It also happened to be where Ryan lived.

  Traffic was heavier the closer they got to Surfers and it was slowing to a crawl. Brad’s Toyota was a few cars ahead. Ryan kept slightly to the right of the lane so he could keep an eye on it, a bulky behemoth of a four wheel drive directly in front of him obscuring his view. A taxi attempted to nose in front of him, but backed off when Ryan blasted his horn. It wedged in behind him instead. Two streets later and the four wheel drive exited left, leaving only a small hatchback between Ryan’s ageing black Ford Falcon XR6 and Br
ad’s Camry.

  The footpaths were crowded with groups of young people heading towards the night club strip. Packs of alpha males, groups of scantily clad females, and some mixed groups all on their way for a night of drunken bliss.

  A drink and a smoke would be nice right now, Ryan thought as he indicated left onto Beach Road. Up ahead Brad swung right and entered a car park. Ryan waited for several cars to pass in the opposite direction before cutting across the road and driving up to the ticket machine. He pressed the button and a ticket spat out. Tossing it onto the passenger seat he continued on, keeping a distance between himself and Brad. The car park was crowded and it took a bit of driving around before Brad located a free space. Ryan drove past him and found a vacant spot just out of sight in the next aisle. He quickly cut the motor and got out, not wanting to lose sight of his target now that some action was actually happening.

  Ryan caught up with Brad out on the street, where it was easy enough to keep himself anonymous amid the crowds that populated the footpaths. While they waited for a set of traffic lights to give them the Walk signal, Ryan kept an eye on Brad from a few metres behind.

  He was a shortish and somewhat chubby guy and didn’t appear to be too heavily into fitness. The man was well-dressed in tailored charcoal trousers, gleaming black leather belt and a long-sleeved, maroon button-up business shirt. He wore no tie and the night was far too warm for a jacket. Gleaming black dress shoes that matched his belt covered his small and stubby feet. He had a full head of black hair with flecks of grey through it.

  Ryan himself wasn’t really dressed for a night on the town, although he could get away with his outfit. He had on faded blue denim jeans that were fraying around the hems, a white T-shirt that was untucked, and his shoes were Colorado casuals of a cream and tan colour. Not exactly Mr Sharp Dressed Man, but it would have to do.