Tainted Blood

by James M. Thompson

  Michelle closed her eyes and gave herself in to the feeling, opening them moments later to find her blouse undone and her bra open at the front. Katherine was kneeling in front of her, her lips on one of Michelle’s nipples while her hand was moving under Michelle’s dress.

  This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to be happening to her. She was an agent in the Secret Service, and there were rules against this sort of thing. She had to do something, anything to make this woman stop what she was doing.

  To her utter surprise, Michelle felt herself lift her buttocks and spread her legs so Katherine would have easier access to her groin, which seemed suddenly to be very hot and very wet. Michelle felt as if there were a thousand tiny needles prickling her vagina, which throbbed and pulsed under their attack.

  As Katherine’s fingers pushed her panties aside and entered her wetness, Michelle laid her head back against the chair and groaned, thus missing the change in Katherine’s face when her fangs grew and her features melted and coalesced into something horrible.

  Michelle started when the fangs entered her carotid artery, but she could hear Katherine in her mind telling her to relax and enjoy it . . . and so she did.

  * * *

  Bitsy McCormack, Allison Burton’s best friend and her invited guest at the Rejuvenatrix Spa, looked at her watch and frowned. Allison was supposed to have joined her for lunch and she was already twenty minutes late. She shook her head. Her father, Black Jack McCormack, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, would never tolerate such laxness of discipline. He’d have somebody’s head on a platter if they ever dared to keep him waiting like this.

  Bitsy blushed and laughed at the thought. Dear God, she thought, please don’t tell me I’m turning into my father.

  The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She grabbed the receiver. “Allison, is that you?” she blurted, intending to give her friend a piece of her mind for being so selfish and rude.

  “Hello, Bitsy,” a male voice said.

  “Uh, yes?” she answered.

  “This is Sammy Akins, and Allison asked me to tell you to meet her at the pool. She has something she wants to show you.”

  “Okay,” Bitsy said, her voice a bit arch at the way Allison was ordering her around. She fully intended to tell her about it too, as soon as she got to the pool.

  Bitsy put on her bikini and threw a robe on over it and walked as fast as she could to the pool house.

  She entered the cavernous space and noticed there was no one else around. The large building was completely empty.

  Suddenly, the door opened behind her and a tall, thin man with dark hair drawn back into a ponytail walked through the doors. He was wearing only a tiny Speedo bathing suit and Bitsy couldn’t help but notice that he had a full erection and was making no effort to hide it.

  She blushed and tried to brush past him to get to the door, knowing she was in some sort of danger.

  “Not so fast, little one,” Theo Thantos said, reaching out to grab her arm. He pulled her to him, using his mind to calm her fears enough so that she wouldn’t resist, but not so much that the fear entirely left her. The taste of fear added a certain spiciness to the taste of blood that Theo quite liked—he said it was the perfect aphrodisiac.

  He pressed his groin against her as he reached around her and unfastened her bathing suit top. When it fell to the ground, revealing small, perfectly formed teenaged breasts, Theo felt his penis throb and pulsate against the girl’s groin.

  Her eyes opened wide and she tried feebly to pull away from him. “Stop . . . stop . . .” she croaked through a mouth gone suddenly dry. “Don’t hurt me, please mister,” she pleaded, pulling away from him and starting to cry—something she hadn’t done since she was six years old and fell off her bicycle onto a sharp rock.

  “Don’t be afraid, child,” Theo purred, taking her hand and slipping it inside his suit. When her fingers tightened on his erection, he bent to kiss her lips, saying, “This won’t hurt a bit . . . I promise!”

  Chapter 20

  John Ashby and Marya Zaleska drove out to Gabrielle de Lavnay’s house on the shores of the Delaware River to attend the latest meeting of Theo Thantos’s conspirators.

  Just before they got out of the car, Marya turned to John and put her hand on his arm. “Johnny, what are we doing here?” she asked, a puzzled frown on her face. “Why are you so determined to help this madman in his insane quest for power over the Normals?”

  John sat back against the seat and sighed. It was a question he’d been wrestling with himself for weeks now, and he wasn’t sure he knew the complete answer.

  “It’s hard to put into words, baby,” he said, his voice low and somber as he stared out of the windshield at the roiling current of the river across the wide expanse of de Lavnay’s yard. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been a sort of outcast, never really fitting in, not even in my own family.” He turned to look into her eyes. “As a kid, I had eight brothers and sisters, and all of us were physically abused by my dad, who when he wasn’t drunk, was pretty much crazy angry. Later, after I was transformed, I went back home and he was the first one I killed. He was down on his knees, crying and pleading for mercy, just like us kids had done all those years ago when he stood over us with his four-inch-wide belt and beat the shit out of us.”

  He chuckled to himself, though there was no humor in the sound. “I gave him the same mercy he gave us—I ripped his head off, though I couldn’t force myself to drink the bastard’s blood.”

  Marya moved over on the seat and put her head on his shoulder. “Poor baby,” she murmured, stroking his arm with her hand.

  “And later,” he continued, his eyes focused on something only he could see, “after I was changed, things were pretty much the same—I was still different, still outside the window looking in on everyone else’s life.” His eyes dropped to hers, “That’s why I still feel such a kinship and love for Ed and Kim Slonaker even after all that’s happened lately—they took me in and treated me like family when I came to work for Ed, more like family than my own relatives did.”

  He shrugged and gave a self-depreciating chuckle. “Hell, maybe this way if Theo Thantos does manage to take over the world, I’ll be one of the ones on the inside looking out instead of the other way ’round.”

  She tilted her head up and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Well, if it’s good enough for you, then it’s good enough for me, lover.”

  “So you don’t mind hanging with the crazies for a while?” he asked, stroking her face.

  “Not if it makes you happy, but one thing I won’t do is ever turn my back on either Thantos or Christina. Neither one of them are worth our trust.”

  He kissed her again on the lips and then they got out of the car and went into the house, arms locked together.

  * * *

  Theo, as was his habit, paced back and forth in front of the group gathered at de Lavnay’s house as he talked. “I’ve asked you all to join us here for a progress report on our endeavors so far,” he said in his rather pedantic and pompous tone of voice.

  Marya glanced at John and rolled her eyes, but was careful not to let anyone else see her do it. The son of a bitch was so full of himself he looked about to burst with self-importance.

  “So far, Elizabeth and Sammy have done an admirable job with the prospects we’ve sent them,” he said in his condescending tone of voice. “Each and every one has been transformed without any suspicions of foul play.”

  “Uh, Theo,” Augustine Calmet called, raising his hand like a schoolboy trying to get the teacher’s attention.

  Theo frowned, hating to be interrupted in mid-speech. “Yes, Augustine?”

  “Just whom are we talking about here?” he asked, his cultured tones almost dripping with both condescension and sarcasm. “Mid-level flunkies or people high up on the Washington food chain?”

  Theo sneered back at the man, thinking just because he’s on the staff of the Washington Post he believes he’s big
shit. Well, just wait until he hears whom we’ve managed to snare in our net. “Well, Augustine, how does the daughter of the vice president of the United States, the daughter of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the daughter of one of the Secret Service agents who guards the president himself sound to you? Is that high enough up on the food chain?” he ended, trying a little sarcasm of his own.

  Augustine’s eyebrows raised and he gave a low whistle. “Wow,” he said, his self-important manner suddenly gone. “That is impressive, Theo. I had no idea you’d reached so high into Washington society.”

  Theo accepted the compliment with grace, and with a smug smile continued, “And that’s not all. Currently we’re working on even more members of the elite of Washington, targeting influential members of the media, both print and televised, as well as some foreign diplomatic types who will be sent back to their native countries to continue our work there.”

  Augustine glanced at the front of the room where Elizabeth Whitmire and Sammy Akins sat. “Bravo, people, bravo,” he said, clapping his hands softly together until he was joined by everyone in the room.

  Theo beamed, holding up his hands as he smiled. “Now, for the most important part of the meeting. I want all of you to take the time to write down the names of people in your fields or who you know should be targeted—people who either can do us good on their own or who have access to people higher up in society than they are.”

  He turned and pointed at Brahma Parvsh and Christabel Chordewa. “Brahma, you and Christabel drive everyone who is anyone to every important party and function in the city. Pick out some that we may be able to get to.”

  He looked over at Johannes Cuntius. “Johannes, you can tell us who we should target in the TV industry. Remember, we want the men and women who make the final decisions on network news policy: not just the Indians, we want the chiefs.”

  Ronnie Ranger raised his hand. “I can do the same thing as far as radio, Theo,” he said, beaming when Theo nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

  “Now, once we have your lists”—he glanced at Gabrielle de Lavnay—“we’ll have Gabrielle schedule a huge party on some pretext or another and we’ll make sure everyone on the list is invited. Then, we’ll make sure we know all their weaknesses or predilections and we’ll see how many we can get started transforming that night.”

  “What do you mean about their weaknesses and predilections?” Augustine asked.

  Theo sighed. The man might be high up in the newspaper business, but he was still an idiot. He wondered how the man had gotten as high up as he had since he obviously had no nose for conspiracy or subterfuge. “Well, Augustine, suppose one of our guests has a thing for young boys. We’ll simply make sure an attractive young man invites him up to one of Gabrielle’s more isolated bedrooms for an assignation. Once there”—Theo shrugged and grinned—“we can go to work on him without fear of being interrupted.”

  “That brings up another question, Theo,” Christabel said. “The Rite of Transformation takes several days, at least. How are we going to accomplish it in one night?”

  Theo smiled again. “I’m glad you asked that. One of the first things we did was to target several doctors around town who handle the carriage trade. Once we start the rite, the person will wake up the next day with symptoms of fever and muscle aches. We’ll make sure by mental commands that he or she calls the correct doctor to make a house call, and the doctors will continue the rites on their patients until they are far enough along so they will seek out their transformers themselves for their blood meals.”

  Augustine nodded, his eyes shining. “It seems you’ve thought of everything, Theo.”

  Theo gave a depreciating wave of his hand. “Probably not, Augustine, but with all of us here working on the plan, hopefully it will go off as expected.”

  * * *

  That night, the vice president of the United States knocked softly on the door to his daughter’s bedroom.

  “Allison, honey, it’s Daddy,” Jonathon Burton called softly.

  “Come in, Daddy,” Allison answered.

  Jonathon opened the door and stepped a little way into the room. He squinted his eyes, trying to see in the gloomy darkness. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you’ve gotten over that nasty flu you had last week,” he said, wondering why she had the lights out at such an early time of night. She usually stayed up until well past midnight chatting to her friends on the phone. Maybe she hadn’t fully recovered from her illness yet.

  “I’m feeling much better, Daddy,” Allison said in her little-girl voice. “But I’d feel even better if you’d come over here and tuck me in like you used to when I was little.”

  Jonathon grinned in the darkness, shaking his head as he moved toward the bed. She must still be delirious from the fever, he thought. The last time he’d tried to give her a kiss good night on the cheek she’d had a hissy fit and told him she was too old for that foolishness.

  As he got closer he could make out her form sitting up in bed, her back propped up against the wall with pillows behind her. His eyes flicked once across her breasts, outlined and plainly visible beneath her sheer nightgown. Jesus, he thought, averting his gaze and flushing in embarrassment. Where in hell did she get that nightgown? She’s a full-grown woman and I haven’t even noticed.

  He reached down and pulled the blanket up as she scooted down in the bed, her arms outstretched toward him. “Give me a hug and a kiss good night, Daddy,” she said, smiling up at him with a strange glint in her eyes.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her cheek, when she suddenly turned her head toward him and placed her open mouth on his, sticking her tongue almost down his throat.

  He recoiled and tried to pull back, but she grabbed him with surprisingly strong arms and pulled him down on top of her in the bed.

  “Come on, Daddy dear,” she said, her voice growing suddenly low and harsh. “You can do better than that.”

  As he struggled to get up off of her, she shifted in the bed until she was lying next to him and grabbed his hand with hers and placed it on her breast, which had somehow come out of her nightgown.

  She leaned over him and with her index finger she made a small slit in her neck over her jugular vein. When he opened his mouth to ask her what in the hell had gotten into her, the blood from her neck dribbled into his mouth, making him sputter and spit and shake his head.

  As he swallowed the coppery, salty liquid, he felt it spread out and travel through his body like a wildfire out of control. All of a sudden he could hear her voice in his mind, telling him to relax and enjoy it.

  The fire caused by her hormones raging throughout his bloodstream seemed to go straight to his loins and he realized with a start he had a sudden, massive erection and his hand began to fondle his daughter’s breast of its own accord, pinching the nipple and squeezing the firm young flesh over and over again. He was horrified at his actions.

  Though he tried to fight it, telling himself this was craziness, he reached up and put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her down to his waiting lips and sucked her blood as fast as he could swallow.

  Allison moaned and pressed her neck against his lips while her hand was busy unfastening his trousers and pulling his erection out into view.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she moaned as she stroked him and turned her head to the side to sink her teeth into his neck while he groaned and pushed himself against her hand as hard and as fast as he could, his mind completely under her control.

  * * *

  At almost that exact same moment, Bitsy McCormack was opening the door to her father’s bedroom. Black Jack McCormack and his wife had slept in separate bedrooms ever since he’d come back from the Gulf War. His nose had been broken in an automobile accident there and he now snored so loudly she refused to sleep in the same room with him.

  Bitsy stood just inside the door and watched her father as he sat propped up in the bed, reading intelligence reports from
the morning’s briefing at the White House.

  After a moment, he jumped when he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, hi darlin’,” he said, putting the stack of papers down on his lap and smiling at her over the pair of half-glasses perched on his nose. “I didn’t see you come in.”

  Bitsy reached over and flipped the light switch off, plunging the room into almost total darkness.

  “What . . . ?” McCormack began, until Bitsy cut him off.

  “I’ve got something to show you, father,” she said, her voice deepening as she began to change as she moved toward him through the darkness.

  “But how . . . ?” he asked, his voice choking off as she leapt onto him and fastened her lips to his neck and began to feed.

  Chapter 21

  Matt opened his eyes, smacked his lips, and stretched. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt great! No aches, no fever, and no pain of any kind afflicted him on this fine winter morning.

  He bounded out of bed and moved to the window, flinging it open and taking a deep breath of the frigid Maine air, which for some reason didn’t seem to cause him any discomfort whatsoever. Jesus, what a beautiful day!

  As he lowered the window, he thought he could hear faint voices behind him and he turned, surprised to find the room empty. “Huh,” he mumbled, “that’s strange.” He was about to conclude he was hallucinating when he heard the voices again, but this time he could tell the sounds were in his mind, not his ears. Whoa, this mind reading shit is neat, he thought, grinning as he focused a little to listen in on the thoughts coming from the other room. He soon realized the entire group was already awake and discussing his and Shooter’s transformation. He also found each voice in his mind was distinct, just like their real voices were, and that he could identify who was thinking what just as if they’d been talking directly to him. Better get out there with them before they think he’s a lazy bones.

  He started to go through the door when he realized he was naked. That won’t do, he thought. He turned around and went to the closet. He grabbed some jeans and a pullover sweater and put them on before leaving the room. Since the cold didn’t seem to bother him, he didn’t wait to put on shoes but proceeded out the door and into the living room in his bare feet.