Tainted Blood

by James M. Thompson

  Cain sneered, “So what? Any fairly competent criminal could do the same thing, and it’s easy not to leave clues when no one in the world even suspects that our race exists. But this is bigger, much bigger than just killing a few innocent bystanders. This is planning the overthrow of a government, and I have a feeling that you have no idea how it functions on a day-to-day basis.”

  “You’re right about that, Russell,” Thantos said, letting a little scorn creep into his tone. “I am not an expert on government bureaucracy, and that’s exactly why I ordered Michele to convert you to our cause. But don’t confuse being a longtime bureaucrat with being able to plan and carry out a guerrilla war because the two are vastly different.”

  “How so?” Cain asked, grinning insolently.

  “In the first place, bureaucrats push papers and plan meetings, leaders implement plans, plans that often mean someone has to die.” As he finished speaking, Thantos changed quickly into his Vampyre form, catching everyone in the room by surprise. He launched himself across the room at Cain, grabbing him by the throat and sinking his claws in deep, behind his esophagus and trachea, squeezing so the man could hardly breathe.

  “Have I got your full attention now, Russell?” he growled in a deep, gravelly voice.

  Cain couldn’t speak, but he nodded quickly, his eyes wide with terror.

  “With one flick of my wrist I could tear out your throat and then rip your head from your shoulders and your miserable life would be over. Do you want me to do that?” Thantos asked again, his red-rimmed eyes glowing fiercely and his fangs inches from Cain’s face.

  He relaxed his grip enough so that Cain could croak, “No.”

  “No what, Cain?” Thantos taunted.

  “Uh, no Sir!” Cain answered.

  With a contemptuous shrug, Thantos picked Cain up by this throat and flung him across the room to smash up against the far wall and then sink to the floor.

  “Now that we’ve established who the alpha male is, are there any other questions?” he asked the rest of the group.

  All quickly shook their heads negatively.

  He slowly changed back to his human form and straightened his clothes. “Good. Now the reason I’ve come here, girls,” he said to Michelle and Bitsy and Allison, “is to discuss the rather ticklish matter of how your fathers are going to feed.”

  The two girls looked at each other, surprise on their faces. It was clear that they hadn’t considered the difficulty of the vice president or the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff getting off alone so they could kill and eat someone.

  Thantos smiled. “I can see that you haven’t given this much thought.” He turned his gaze to Michelle. “Since it’s obvious these two men can’t go running off to nearby towns to feed every time they get hungry, it’s going to be up to you and Mr. Cain over there to see that suitable food is brought in for them on a regular basis. I assume there are ways to get people into the vice president’s mansion and into General McCormack’s home without being observed?”

  Before Michelle could answer, Bitsy and Allison glanced at each other and giggled.

  Thantos turned his attention to them and raised his eyebrows.

  Allison sobered enough to speak. “Sure, Mr. Thantos, that won’t be any problem at all. Bitsy and I’ve been sneaking in and out of those old houses for years. We’ve found ways to get in and out right under the noses of the Secret Service agents assigned to guard us.”

  When Michelle blushed and gave Allison a stare, the girl shrugged. “We had to, or we’d never have gotten to do anything fun.”

  Thantos laughed. “Good for you, Allison. Now I want you and Bitsy to coordinate with Michelle and Mr. Cain so that they can bring . . . uh, food in for you and your parents. It will also be up to them to make sure that any Secret Service Agents assigned to either of your residences are among our converts.”

  “That won’t be a problem, Sir,” Michelle said, showing some deference after seeing what Thantos had done to Cain, one of the toughest men she knew.

  “And you, Russell,” Thantos asked the man who had just managed to scramble around and sit with his back against the wall, “do you think you can handle that?”

  Cain nodded, his hand massaging his throat. “Yes . . . uh, yes Sir,” he answered.

  “Good,” Thantos said simply. And then he turned his attention to Augustine Calmet.

  “Augustine, I put you in charge of the cell with Allison and Bitsy because with your long association with the Washington Post, I know you’re friends with both the vice president and the chairman.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Augustine said, being sure to show Thantos the proper respect. He didn’t want to end up with his throat ripped out.

  “For that reason, it will be perfectly natural for you to visit both of them occasionally, ostensibly to do interviews for your paper, but in reality to pass messages back and forth that are too sensitive to be done on the phone or in an e-mail.”

  Calmet nodded. “It won’t be a problem. Both men are used to being interviewed by various members of the press so it won’t cause any suspicion for me to visit them.”

  Thantos nodded. “Good, now go on with your presentation to the newcomers about feeding and such matters.”

  Chapter 27

  When Sam woke up the next morning, it seemed as if every muscle in her body ached. She rolled on her side and threw her arm around Matt, who was still sleeping soundly.

  “Matt, darling,” she murmured against his neck. “Did you beat on me with sticks last night?”

  He snorted and smacked his lips and came immediately awake. Turning to her and kissing her lightly on the lips, he grinned, which irritated her to no end. She was still not a morning person, and Matt had since his conversion been unbearably cheerful in the early morning hours—something Sam felt was vaguely immoral. He didn’t even need to have his coffee to get him going when he got up, and Sam thought anyone who didn’t need caffeine to get their motor started was abnormal.

  “Just what are you grinning at, you heathen?” she asked, moaning with both pain and desire when his right hand reached over and began to massage her breast. It felt bruised, and her nipple was raw and still swollen from the night before when it had received rather more attention than was good for it.

  “Sore, are you?” he asked, with no trace of sympathy in his voice.

  “Yes, I am. Aren’t you?” she asked, letting her hand move under the covers to caress him. She found him already hard and ready for her.

  “Only certain parts of my anatomy,” he answered with an even wider grin.

  She sniffed and squeezed his penis maliciously, causing him to moan softly in pain. She’d teach him to be so cheerful in the morning. “Well, I can see why, after the way you went after TJ and Kim last night,” she said, referring to their ritual sharing of blood the night before. In order to augment their abilities to the max, Elijah had them all sharing blood with one another on a nightly basis, which usually resulted in what in any other situation would be called a mass orgy.

  He laughed, “Yeah, that’s true. But I don’t really recall you fighting Elijah and Shooter and Ed off during your little trading blood episodes either.” In spite of his soreness, he pressed himself against her hand and began to slowly move his hips in and out.

  She blushed slightly, remembering why her breasts were so sore this morning. It seems they’d been quite popular with the other men in the group, all of whom had done some serious massaging and sucking on them for an extended period of time while they shared their blood.

  Matt, who could read her mind like an open book, felt himself getting even more aroused again by her memories. “So it was that good, huh?” he asked, moving closer to her in the bed and easing his hand down between her legs, which spread and accepted him eagerly.

  “You know you’re not supposed to get in my mind like that without asking,” she murmured as he put his lips on hers, causing her to immediately become wet and aroused. She moved her hand faster and push
ed her groin against his hand, willing his fingers to enter her.

  “How about my getting in other parts of your body this morning?” he asked with a husky voice.

  “Ummm, that sounds good, as long as you promise to be gentle, since the other parts of my body are just as sore as my breasts.”

  “I think the exercise will be good for both of us,” he said, moving on top of her and positioning himself between her legs.

  “Nothing like a little EMI to get the blood flowing and the heart pumping,” he said, his lips against hers.

  “EMI?” she asked, flicking her tongue against his and lifting her hips off the mattress to push him further inside her.

  “Yeah,” he answered, pushing back and driving her hips back down with the force of his pumping. “Early Morning Intercourse.”

  * * *

  Later, they walked hand in hand out to the kitchen to see if they were too late for breakfast. Just as Sam was pouring them both mugs of steaming coffee, Ed and Kim knocked briefly at the front door and entered without waiting for an answer.

  “Hey, Ed, Kim,” Sam called, holding up the coffeepot, “You want some caffeine?”

  Kim nodded vigorously. “Please, dear,” she said. “Ed rushed me out of the Bear Mountain Inn so fast I didn’t have time to grab any there.”

  Ed smiled. “Yeah, Sam, give her a double dose. She’s been as cranky as a bear the last few days.”

  Kim gave him a flat look as she accepted the cup from Sam. “It’s these damned muscle aches and this blasted fever I’m running,” she said, adding after a moment, “not to mention the soreness of certain rather sensitive areas of my body.”

  “Me, too,” Sam said, nodding her head sympathetically. “And when your mate,” she added, glaring over her shoulder at Matt, “insists on sex every hour on the hour, it just makes it worse.”

  Matt called, “Hey, I resemble that remark, sweetheart. You weren’t complaining an hour ago when I was . . .”

  Sam grinned and held up her hand. “That’s enough, dear,” she said, “I’m sure our guests don’t need a blow by blow description of our activities.”

  “Blow by blow, that’s quite a pun, Sam sweetie,” Shooter said, shuffling into the kitchen, his hair mussed and a blue shadow on his cheeks showing he hadn’t shaved yet this morning. “Remember dear, now that all of our psychic abilities are geared up from sharing blood, we’re all acutely aware of what the others are thinking . . . and doing,” he added, taking the cup our of Sam’s hands and upending it over his mouth.

  “Yes, Sam,” TJ said, coming into the room behind Shooter, her eyes dancing and her hair equally tangled. She was wearing only a T-shirt that barely covered her hips, and it was obvious there was nothing on underneath it.

  “I want to thank you and Matt,” she teased. “When you two got amorous this morning, it gave Shooter over there some ideas of his own and I barely got my eyes open before he was on me like a duck on a June bug.”

  Kim looked over at Ed, who was blushing. “So, my big, cuddly bear, that’s what got into you this morning?”

  He shrugged. “Can I help it if Matt and Sam were transmitting on all frequencies? What’s a man to do?” he asked, holding out his hands.

  Kim smiled and reached up to pat his cheek. “You did plenty, big guy, and don’t think I don’t appreciate it—just next time wake me up first!”

  Everyone laughed and sat at the kitchen table to a pile of donuts and pastries piled high on a plate in the center of the table.

  Elijah walked in, joining in the laughter. “I hope all of you had fun this morning, ’cause I was also receiving Matt and Sam’s transmissions, only my bed was empty of a partner. So I had to get up and head down to Tut’s to get our breakfast to keep my mind off all the nefarious goings-on here at Casa Pike.”

  “And don’t think we don’t appreciate it, pal,” Shooter said around a mouthful of donuts, holding up his coffee cup in a toast to Elijah.

  “Here, here,” everyone said, also holding up their cups and laughing heartily. Each of them had never felt better or more alive in their entire lives, notwithstanding the soreness and slight fevers the blood sharing was causing. It seemed to each of them as if they were twenty years younger.

  “Speaking of work,” Elijah said, moving over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. “How is everyone feeling this morning? Lots of aches and pains and fever?”

  Kim nodded, “And by the way, Elijah, your theory must be correct about how much our abilities are going to improve since the bear over there picked up Matt and Sam’s mental transmissions all the way over at our inn, and the fact that they weren’t even trying to contact us makes it even more amazing.”

  Elijah smiled, “And Kim, remember it’s not only our psychic abilities that I think will improve, but all of our Vampyre characteristics: immunity from disease, recovery from injury, strength, intelligence—in short, just about every trait that can be transmitted by DNA should do better.”

  Shooter swallowed his donut and drained his coffee, a puzzled expression on his face. “Say, Elijah, I’ve been thinking about your theory . . .” he began.

  “Uh-oh,” TJ said smiling tolerantly at Shooter.

  He stopped in midsentence and glanced at her. “What’s uh-oh supposed to mean, dear?” he asked, sarcasm evident in his tone.

  She looked back at him salaciously, waggling her eyebrows up and down in a caricature of Groucho Marks, “Well, sweetheart,” she drawled, accentuating her southern accent, “of all your traits that endear you to me and make me love you so much, thinking isn’t one of them.”

  “Ouch,” Matt said, chuckling.

  Shooter looked over at him and smiled. “That just means my other traits are so much stronger that they overshadow everything else, Matt my boy.”

  “Uh, you were saying, Shooter, about my theory?” Elijah interrupted.

  “Oh, yeah. I was just wondering about this transferring DNA stuff back and forth between us when we share blood . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “What happens if we share blood with someone dumber, or weaker, or less psychically gifted than we are? Why doesn’t that diminish our abilities like sharing with someone stronger or better increases them?”

  “That’s an excellent question, Shooter,” Elijah said, “and I’m wondering why our medical experts present didn’t come up with the same idea?”

  “Uh, just never thought about it,” Matt said lamely, while Shooter beamed with pride and looked at TJ, licking his index finger and making a move in the air like he was chalking one up for him.

  Sam’s eyebrows knit together and she said, “I think the answer would be that if you already have an ability, like strength or quick recovery from injuries or intelligence, getting a transfusion of DNA which is less good in that area doesn’t take your better DNA away, it just doesn’t do anything one way or the other.”

  “Bravo, Sam,” Elijah said, clapping his hands. “At least, that’s the way I figure it also. Remember guys,” he added, “transfused DNA doesn’t replace our own natural DNA, and so whatever we have to begin with when we share blood, we’ll always have. However, if the new DNA has something we’re missing or that we have less of, it will augment our own DNA to make us better.” He spread his hands, “So, you see, Shooter, sharing blood can never make us less than we already are, it can only make us better if we’re deficient in some areas to the DNA we receive.”

  “Whew,” Shooter said, wiping his forehead as if to remove sweat. “I was afraid taking my blood was gonna dumb you guys down to my level.”

  TJ sighed and put her arm around Shooter’s shoulders. “Shooter, you’re not dumber than us by any means. You’re just smart in areas different from medicine and science.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’d like to see any of us fix up our security like you have, or track down a killer, or interrogate witnesses like you can,” she said.

  Shooter held up his hands, “Okay, okay,
” he said, laughing. “It’s nice to know I’m appreciated, but let’s not go overboard, all right?”

  TJ grinned and glanced at Sam as she spoke to Shooter, “Sam’s not being entirely truthful, dear. It’s not just your excellent security abilities that make her quiver with delight when you two share blood . . .”

  Just then, a bell went off and a red light began flashing from a small control box on a nearby table.

  “Speaking of security,” Shooter said, happy to change the subject as he jumped to his feet, his hand immediately going to his shoulder holster. He jogged over to the box and flipped on a small monitor screen next to the flashing red light.

  A UPS truck could be seen coming down the quarter mile long driveway toward the cabin.

  Shooter glanced over his shoulder at Elijah. “You expecting a UPS delivery?”

  Elijah nodded. “Yes. I called a friend of mine in San Francisco when we heard about Theo Thantos’s plot and had him send me some supplies I think we’re going to need. The truck was scheduled to arrive this morning.”

  Shooter drew his 9 mm pistol and picked up a shotgun from the corner and flipped it to Matt, who’d jumped up at the same time he did.

  “Matt and I’ll take up stations just outside in the bushes next to the driveway, just in case,” Shooter said. “We wouldn’t want any surprises so early in the morning.”

  They bounded out the door and got hidden just before the large, brown truck pulled to a stop in front of the cabin.

  Elijah opened the door and moved out onto the deck, his coffee cup in his hand and a welcoming smile on his face as he approached the truck.

  The driver stepped out and consulted his clipboard as he came around the front of the truck. “Jesse Brown?” he asked, referring to one of the aliases Elijah used while in San Francisco.

  “Yeah,” Elijah said, taking the clipboard and scrawling his signature at the bottom.