Bound Through Blood

by Alexis Kennedy

  Then she thought about the recent rash of murders and her own drama and tried to remember all of the details in order to find a connection to Jane's death. The one common trait that stuck out was that the female victims had bite marks—she looked down at her wrist but there was nothing there. Her fingers went to her neck, and she recalled that the mark there was already gone too. Part of her wanted to call the detective, who'd given her his business card, to ask if any had been found on Jane, but the other part of her wasn't so sure she wanted to know the answer—it might just be too horrible to comprehend. She was also curious if Jane had tested positive for signs of recent sexual activity since that was also a common factor among the female victims, including herself—well, sort of.

  The detective had told her an autopsy would be performed, so she might as well wait to hear from him; he did say he'd keep her informed. She looked at the business card again. Okay, Detective Wagner, let's see you figure all this out.

  There was one phone call that she did make; it was to Eric. She told him about Jane and asked him if he could make time to come down and escort her to the funeral service. Unfortunately, he was booked on a flight to London this afternoon and would be gone for a week or two. He'd come see her when he got back.

  Mr. Dependable as always. She shouldn't have bothered. The other night didn't mean a thing to him; hell, two years didn't mean a thing to him, apparently. She didn't want to seem selfish, but in his line of work as a corporate attorney, he could've sent some lackey to London and came to New Orleans to be with her. Maybe she'd get a dog; they are probably more reliable.

  A hot candlelight bath was beckoning her now, so she gathered her towel, washcloth, and candles and headed into the bathroom for a relaxing soak—or so she thought. On the ledge of her garden tub was a vase full of flowers—funeral flowers—white lilies. She dropped her items and tugged her robe tightly closed as she ran back through her small house, checking doors and windows—all locked tightly. She knelt down, weeping softly—more from confusion than fear, which was confusing in and of itself. No one had a key to her home, and she didn't leave a spare outside anywhere either, just one in her purse, which was on her dresser. Even the police had said there was no sign of forced entry the last time, and none of her belongings had been missing. Feeling like her sanity was slowly slipping away, she cried hard now. Was Heloise right? Was she really being stalked by a "vampire"? Vampire or not, the killer hadn't harmed her, why was that? What did he want with her and was the connection her grandmother? She needed answers. She'd been home all morning too...

  Salena was on hold with the police station when she braved a trip back to the bathroom to examine the flowers. There was no card with the lilies, but she knew it had to be the same intruder as before—who got in and out with no trace. The same one who had seduced her and bit her twice now.

  She asked the operator to put her through to Officer Ann Marx, who'd investigated the first break in. While on hold, and frightened she may not be alone, she locked the bathroom door; all the while wondering what good it would do. Apparently, locks didn't hinder this person at all. Hmm, person or vampire?

  "Are you alone; is the intruder possibly still there?" the worried Officer Marx took the call immediately.

  "I don't know, the doors and windows are still locked, and they already were, I don't know how he got in, so I don't know if he's still here. I'm in the bathroom."

  Officer Marx sighed under her breath, "This is strange." Then louder, "A unit is on its way. Stay in the bathroom with the door locked and grab anything that can be used as a weapon; even a can of hairspray can do damage to the eyes. I'll stay on the line with you until the patrol officer gets there, and then I'll be on my way over as well."

  Salena suddenly realized she could faintly smell that haunting musky scent again, right there in the bathroom, and it made her shiver—mostly from fear. Something still drew her in, and she had no idea why. How on earth could she be attracted to her stalker, slash mystery love, slash vampire? But then again, Abigail had been...

  A loud knock on the front door, followed by the shout, "Police!" about took ten years off her life. She ran to the front door to let the officer in, while still holding the hairspray, and only after looking through the peephole first.

  Devin paced around outside Salena's house, shape-shifted into a black cat, wondering if he'd made a mistake with the flowers. He'd watched her cry from his perch on the windowsill and felt horrible—especially since she'd been scared enough to call the police, again. He'd meant to show his concern and condolences; he hadn't wanted to kill her friend, but the woman was going to interfere.

  He watched Salena say goodbye to the police. They'd only told her to make sure everything was locked up tight, always, and not give out any spare keys. They also reminded her to get a lock put on the basement door, and to let them know if she noticed herself being followed or watched; including if anyone she was dating or had refused to date started acting out toward her. A crime scene tech had dusted for fingerprints, and Officer Marx would let her know if anything showed up.

  She was too shaken up to even notice one of the officers lean down to pet a black cat on his way back to the patrol car. She knew they thought she was crazy or just seeking attention. There was absolutely no proof someone had been in her home, uninvited. Nothing had been tampered with, nothing was missing, and her locks were all fully functional. Then she started laughing hysterically, trying to imagine the looks on their faces if she told them it was a vampire. They would definitely accuse of her of being insane. Soon, though, the laughs turned to sobs.

  After they were gone, Devin watched her close the door and heard the lock click. Then he ran to the side of her house where he watched her go into her bedroom, shut the door, and turn that lock as well. He had watched her come undone, and that hurt his heart.

  She'd lied down in her inviting bed for a nap—which was an opportunity for him. He needn't worry about the locked doors and windows; he'd discovered an old pet door in the basement and used that to get in; just as he did with the lilies; just as he always did. He went up the basement stairs, as himself, and opened the door. The door had no lock, but it wouldn't have kept him out anyway. He quietly entered the kitchen and moved, as silent as fog, through the house to her bedroom. He shape-shifted into a spider to crawl underneath the locked door. She was already sound asleep and snoring softly, so he changed back.

  Devin slipped into bed with her, and she began to stir a little but remained asleep. He watched her for several minutes, marveling at the beautiful softness in all her features. His heart beat faster, and his breaths came quicker as he imagined tracing his fingers, then his tongue, over those exquisite features. Those features she inherited from Abigail.

  It was time; if his heart didn't tell him, his rock-hardness sure did. The seduction continues now. He began by brushing his fingertips across her cheek and then traced the fullness of her pouty lips. This caused her sleepy eyes to flutter and open slowly. When she saw him, she quickly jerked away, but his body restrained her.

  Devin stared hypnotically into her sky-blue eyes and whispered, "Nu vrei sã lupte acest lucru. Vrei acest lucru." You don't want to fight this. You want this. Her mouth, which had been open to scream, quickly closed.

  Her mind was trying to fight against his spell, but it just couldn't seem to resist.

  He quickly covered her mouth with his and plunged his tongue in, with bittersweet fervor, seeking her own—which now was not resistant at all. He nibbled her lips and sucked on them gently which brought a soft moan of pleasure from her sweet mouth. His anxious hands, meanwhile, were moving up her soft body—cupping, squeezing, exploring— all the way up to stroke through her silky strands of raven black hair. The same hair he remembered from centuries ago, and he still loved its feel.

  Feeling herself being accosted, but under a consumable passionate haze, Salena could only writhe underneath him in response. It was like her brain was stuck in cruise control, and her body co
uld only ride along. She pushed herself against him and felt his aching bulge pressing against her slender thigh. This made her moist from anticipation. She had no way to fight against the tidal wave of desire pulling her under; every effort to resist was washed away with inevitability.

  Devin responded to her hunger by pulling up her nightgown and plunging a finger into her hot, wet core—she was so velvety soft and tight, he thought he'd explode right then. While his finger worked her insides, his mouth moved from hers—swollen from his kisses—to her neck. Just a taste—that's all he needed—this time. He nicked her alabaster skin just enough to cause a minuscule drop of blood to spill. He licked it up hungrily and absorbed her drugging nectar—and traveled back almost three hundred years to his truelove. There was no denying their connection.

  Salena, worked up into a burning frenzy of lust, didn't even notice the nick from his fangs. Instead, with a loud moan, she arched her body upward and placed one hand on top of his, still inside her, and pressed it to go deeper, while her other hand raked its nails down his still clothed back.

  Not wanting to deny either of them their euphoria any longer, he moved his long, taut body up hers, with his fiery brand now released from its cotton confinement, and tried to plunge himself into her pulsating core.

  Salena cried out in pure bliss as he worked himself in and out of her petal-smooth center until her body could grant his. Then every inch of her fiery furnace welcomed every inch of his steely staff.

  As she rode the waves of ecstasy with him, her eyes rolled back, and she dug her teeth into his shoulder, which was an ironic change of pace for him.

  However, before she could draw his blood, he stopped her. Instead, he kissed her deeply again, moving his tongue in rhythm with his thrusts against the hard spot inside her womanhood. Prodding it made her explode in sensation all over his hard rod, and her nails once again dug inside his back while she screamed even louder than before. This set him over the edge as well, and his white-hot eruption flooded into her convulsing center while she clutched his buttocks and rode the ripple of debauchery with him.

  After removing his weight from her, he kissed the bite mark and then whispered into her ear, "Va dormi zdravãn acum." You will sleep soundly now. He kissed her lips once more and headed back into the night. She was already snoring softly again.

  He wished he didn't have to hypnotize her to get her to make love and consummate their destiny; it hurt his heart that he couldn't just have her willingly. "Soon," he said into the darkness, "I will have all of you soon."

  In what felt like days later, Salena finally woke up. Her head was foggy, but her body was quite relaxed. She tried to remember the dream she'd had. Was it a dream? She couldn't be so certain anymore of what is real or not. She could smell musk in the air though—his musk—and reaching down to her triangle of curls, she was still damp. He had been there, no doubt. But, everything was still locked up, just like always. She needed to learn about her alleged truelove, and what she was really in for.

  Two stops would be necessary today: the first would be to see Heloise, and the second would be to take a vampire tour. She got up to get ready and chose to take a hot shower over a bath, so she could scrub the musk off herself. It wasn't because she didn't find it pleasant; in fact, she liked it too much. As she washed, she remembered—with a heavy heart—a third stop today; Jane's body would be laid out tonight for the viewing. Tomorrow was the funeral. Salena cried in the stream of hot water pouring down on her. She would miss her friend of five years terribly. Jane was the first friend she made when she moved here. She decided to call Detective Wagner this morning for an update. He said he'd call, but she couldn't wait on him any longer. She needed to know who'd killed her friend—really hoping it wasn't the man she is supposedly destined to be with.

  "Hi, Detective, this is Salena Saunders," she said with urgency in her voice. "I'm calling for an update on my friend's, um, murder," she had a hard time saying that aloud.

  "Yes, Miss Saunders, I haven't forgotten you. Believe me when I say I've been busy around here with all the murders taking place recently." She could hear him shuffling through papers on his desk. "You'd think it was Mardi Gras, or something," he tried to lighten the moment. "That's when the crazy stuff usually happens. Okay, here it is, Jane Miller. The autopsy shows she died by strangulation, but she had suffered a broken neck as well. There wasn't any evidence of sexual activity or bites on the body, unlike the other female victims. Lividity shows the only weapon used was a bare hand, which, honestly, we've not seen before; this makes us believe it was definitely personal; someone had it in for her. Now, unfortunately, the prints lifted aren't in any database, and neither is the DNA swabbed from the bite marks on the other victims. So, and I hate to say this, we don't know who we are looking for; they've not had their prints booked before. It could be the same perp or it could be more than one."

  That definitely wasn't good news. "So, what's next then?"

  She heard more shuffling of papers on his end before he gave her an answer. "Wait, hang on, I just got some more reports back. The fingerprints from Miss Miller's case match up to some of the other murders, and, well, Officer Marx handed me the print results from your place. It is also a match."

  He paused, and she knew he was expecting her shocked reaction, but the truth was, she wasn't shocked at all. Except for maybe one thing, "You said some of the other murders? The ones with the bite marks, right?"

  Exhaustion from the unsolved cases was evident in his voice, "Yeah, just a handful of them. We have had a couple of more since the weekend that are from a different doer. His prints and DNA aren't in the system either. The first killer has left a couple of young men dead as well: one was the twenty-year-old man, Jeremy Tompkins, and other was just discovered by hiker yesterday. He's only twenty-two. It was a Chad something. I don't have the file in front of me. I have to admit, Miss Saunders, we are stumped on this one. But don't worry; we'll catch them. They will slip up, or even turn on each other; we think they are connected somehow because of the bite marks."

  "Oh." The simple word was short and said everything she could say about it.

  He interrupted her solemn thoughts, "Ma'am? He's been in your house, and we don't know how. Is there somewhere else you could stay?" She could tell by his voice that he was genuinely concerned.

  "No, I only had Jane to turn to; my other friend, Karen—who was with us that night—has her hands full with a husband, four kids and three cats, which I'm allergic to. I don't really know anyone else. But, I think I'll be okay." Of course, there was Heloise, but the Gypsy would probably push her into a first date with the vampire. The thought actually made her laugh lightly into the phone.

  The detective cleared his throat, "Well, if you can find someone else, I suggest you get out of your house; even if you have to go to a hotel. You are already lucky to have survived this maniac."

  She touched her neck where the last bite had been, "Yeah, lucky."

  "I don't want you there if he decides to come back. You have my card." Then the line was dead.

  Oh, he'll come back. Salena was sure of it.

  After hanging up with the detective, she called Heloise to let her know she needed to stop by; it was urgent they meet. Heloise didn't answer her phone, though, and her answering machine was full. Concerned, Salena headed to her friend's house to check on her.

  Salena arrived at Heloise's cottage about fifteen minutes later and saw the woman's sedan parked in the driveway. She hurried to the door and knocked loudly but received no response. Even more concerned now, she peeked inside the windows and called out to her friend, "Heloise, are you in there? It's Salena." Finally, she could hear movement and, with relief, she saw Heloise walking to get the door.

  "I was worried about you there for a minute. You didn't answer your phone or the door."

  "Sorry, dear, I was taking a nap. You know how it is at my age. Now, what is wrong?"

  Salena didn't quite know where to start. "Well, my best frien
d was murdered, and someone has been breaking into my house, and—" she wasn't sure about finishing her sentence, "—I think he seduced me."

  "Well," Heloise shook her head and shrugged. "That is the way he was described in my great-grandmother's diary. That is the way of the vampire. And he is probably the one in your house because he wants you. I'm so sorry about your friend, Salena. But you don't think it was him, do you?"

  Salena threw her hands in the air and paced quickly around the small parlor room. "I don't know what to think anymore. What is this? How am I supposed to buy into all of this nonsense?"

  Heloise peered at her over her reading glasses and smiled. "Do you really not believe? Is it just nonsense?"

  Salena started biting her nails again; she was almost to the quick on a few of them. "I don't know what I believe. Vampires are supposed to be make-believe, aren't they?"

  "Well, not all is always what it seems to be. Sometimes, you have to let go of your beliefs to accept what is right before you. Look at me. How many people really believe I can see the future?"

  "Can we look at the cards again?" Salena was still trying to hold out hope that this was all some colossal joke. Jane would really be alive, no vampires would be coming after her, and the passionate encounters would have been just dreams. Damn good dreams.

  "Of course, dear." Heloise soon had three shuffled decks and Salena chose three cards. They were the same as before—Death, Fool, and Tower—so she picked the decks up and looked through all the cards to make sure there were different ones and, of course, there were. Then she had Heloise shuffle, once more, and this time the Gypsy picked the three cards for her. They were the same.