Phantom Warriors: Bacchus

by Jordan Summers

  Jill pursed her lips in thought. Perhaps, she’d look into moving. She wasn’t sure where she’d go yet, but a change of scenery would probably do her some good. It would certainly be easy enough to sell the house, since she was only a few miles from the beach. With the money she’d make from the sale, it wouldn’t be a problem to start over.

  Maybe she would even take the time to get back into her original field of study, herpetology. Not that there was anything wrong with training and breeding dogs, but the job wasn’t the same as working with amphibians and reptiles.

  A particularly funny line from the TV show drew her back from her musings. Jill laughed, temporarily forgetting about her plans and her earlier apprehensions.

  * * * * *

  Bacchus left Jill’s house after she went to bed. Tonight, he’d organize for his approach much like he prepared for battle, with one exception. This war, more than any other, would determine his future and the fate of the Phantom race.

  He drove north for several miles, his mind on Jill. The open window delivered cool air to the inside of the car, but did little to diminish his need. He was so caught up in planning for their first meeting that Bacchus almost missed the woman’s muffled screams in the distance. He hit the brakes and the car skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. Bacchus listened, his heart pounding in his chest. Silence ensued.

  Had he imagined the cries?

  Bacchus pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He glided out of the seat, his tongue testing the air for danger. It took two turns to the right, but he found what he sought. The trail of sweat and fear was faint, but he’d be able to follow it.

  Bacchus got back into the vehicle and swung it around.

  A mile later he found the darkened alley where a woman lay crouched on the ground. Her knees were cut, along with her hands. Bruises marred her pretty face. Her eyes watered as shock took hold and left her shaken. The men had ripped her skirt, leaving her exposed, covered in nothing, but her underwear. A group of men surrounded her, taunting like a pack of hungry dogs. Her shirt hung from her limbs, the buttons torn from their threads.

  Bacchus caught snippets of the conversation, something about pulling a train, which made no sense, since they were miles from the railroad tracks. No one in the nearby houses came to her rescue. It was as if they didn’t hear her cries. Or didn’t want to.

  Televisions were turned up to their highest volumes and radios blasted distorted songs.

  Bacchus’ forked tongue slithered out of his mouth once again. He tasted sexual need, along with depravity. So they planned to fuck this helpless woman once they finished beating her. Anger boiled inside him. Bacchus pulled the car into the alley and stopped, cutting the engine and the lights as he stepped out. His feet were silent upon the uneven ground as he moved closer to the men.

  “Are you lost, man?” one of the men asked, noticing his approach.

  “No, I’m aware of my surroundings,” he said, causing the men to shoot confused glances at each other.

  “Then what are you doing here?” a dark-haired, pock-faced man asked, stepping toward him in a manner Bacchus was sure was meant to be threatening.

  The man had no way of knowing the creatures that he’d faced in battle in order to prove himself a warrior. His stern stance was little more than an annoyance that Bacchus could easily dispatch with no effort whatsoever.

  “This isn’t a safe neighborhood to be in,” he continued, aggression oozing from his pores.

  “I can see that,” Bacchus said. His gaze flicked to the each man, before focusing on the woman who wept silently, her brown eyes a mixture of pleading and fear. The beast inside Bacchus rejoiced. A good fight would alleviate some of the sexual tension strumming through his body.

  “I think you should leave, if you know what’s good for you,” the young man said, pulling up his shirt to show Bacchus the gun hidden in his low-riding pants.

  A bullet couldn’t penetrate his flight suit, but it could leave a nasty hole in his head.

  Bacchus doubted any of these men were good enough shots to pull off that feat. Even so, he wouldn’t give them the opportunity to try. He felt his power flow. He knew his eyes would blaze red in the darkness like a demon from their religious texts. He heard the men gasp and then they stepped back.

  In the next instant, Bacchus’ fangs unfurled and venom shot ten feet, spraying three of the men in the face. Screams rang out as the men wiped their eyes. The toxins would temporarily blind them while he took care of the others. Bacchus roared, blurring his image until he was a nightmare come to life.

  He surged forward as the young man who’d been speaking earlier reached for his weapon. He pulled the gun out and fired repeatedly. The rounds penetrated a wall nearby, sending plaster raining onto the ground. Bacchus grasped the man’s fingers and squeezed. The man screamed. A loud crunch filled the air as the bones crumbled and snapped. He kept his grip on the man long enough to pull him forward. The man’s terrified wails increased when Bacchus sank his fangs deep into his throat and began to drink. He struggled for a second more, then went limp in surrender.

  His blood tasted sour on Bacchus’ tongue. Something tainted his body. Bacchus dropped the man onto the ground with a thud. He’d remain paralyzed for the next few hours due to the tiny bit of venom he’d purposely expelled when he bit him. Bacchus turned to face the final three, only to see two of them swivel and run. The third stood his ground, a knife clutched beneath white knuckles.

  “Come on!” he shouted. “I’m not afraid of a vampire. I have a cross.” He pulled his shirt open to show Bacchus the large silver chain around his neck, grasping it like a talisman.

  The hypocrisy of the move did not escape him. Bacchus threw his head back and laughed, licking blood from his fangs as he did so. The young man’s taste triggered his hunger. He fought the need for satiation.

  “Do you expect me to fear the metal pressed against your chest, when you do not?”

  Bacchus asked.

  “Vampires can’t look upon crosses. It hurts them.” The man glanced around as if help would suddenly appear.

  Bacchus brushed his clothing. “I did not know that,” he said, disappearing, only to reappear behind the man. The brush of breath on his neck was the only warning the man received as Bacchus plunged his fangs into his jugular.

  The man tried to stab him, but Bacchus’ hand shot out, catching the weapon before it could do any damage.

  He retracted his fangs to speak. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said, before gripping the man’s chin and craning his neck for better access.

  Bacchus drank until he sated his hunger. The rich fiery taste of blood filled every cell in his body. He stopped when he heard the man’s heart stutter, although he had no moral qualms when it came to killing. Bacchus bent the knife blade with little effort and dropped it onto the ground with his drowsy attacker. He’d think twice before he pounced upon a stranger again in a darkened alley.

  The woman remained on the ground, her eyes wide with horror. She bled from so many places it was hard for Bacchus to concentrate. He took a couple of deep breaths, his body fading and solidifying repeatedly while he wrenched back control. The smell of blood permeated the air like copper perfume. Finally, he stilled, his mind firmly back under his command.

  “It’s okay,” he said, holding his hand out in a soothing gesture. Bacchus lowered his voice. “I won’t harm you.”

  She whimpered and hunkered down in an attempt to make herself smaller.

  Bacchus forced his fangs to furl. He hadn’t intended to scare her, but he knew there was no helping her without a fight. He needed to get her home, so that her family could get her medical attention. Bacchus didn’t think the men had sexually assaulted her, but the shock of the beating wouldn’t wear off anytime soon. “Do you live around here?” he asked.

  The woman glanced up tentatively, eyeing his mouth as if she didn’t trust what she’

  d seen. Bacchus relaxed.
Soon she would doubt her recollection, which was for the best.

  She’d been through enough. “I live a couple of blocks over,” she said, taking shuddering gasps of air and clutching her tattered clothes to her chest.

  “Let me take you home.”

  She glanced around at the men on the ground. “They were going to rape me.”

  “I know.” Bacchus clenched his fists. “They will not harm you again or I will return and finish what I started.” The threat was clear for all to hear. The men whimpered in response.

  “Are they going to die?”

  “Not tonight, but they will if they continue on this path of destruction.” He shook his head. The instinct to kill was tempting. This wasn’t the first woman to suffer at the hands of these men. Others had not been nearly as fortunate. Bacchus had tasted the truth in their veins. He knew he could have killed them easily, but he wasn’t here to battle an enemy, however deserving of death. He thought about Jill and his three hearts began to pound. He was here for an entirely different kind of fight, one that involved domination, submission and ultimate survival.

  “Please, come,” Bacchus said before he changed his mind and sentenced the men to death. He led the woman to his car, supporting her with a hand at her elbow. He opened the door for her and waited for her to step inside. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

  Bacchus strolled back to the incapacitated men. The three blinded ones wept in fear as they heard his purposeful footfalls, while the fourth and fifth lay supine, unable to move, their black eyes wide with fright.

  “If I ever see any of you around this woman again, I won’t be so merciful the next time.” Bacchus allowed his fangs to unfurl as he bent over the paralyzed man. Venom clung to the sharp tip, dropping onto the man’s white shirt. “Blink if you understand me,” he snarled.

  The man blinked rapidly, tears filling his eyes.

  “Good.” Bacchus smiled, flicking his forked tongue into the air. The two men who’d run earlier hid not far from the alley. He could hear their rapid heartbeats. They would return and gather the remaining five, not that he cared after what they’d done to the woman. The behavior was abhorrent. Bacchus didn’t understand this planet. With all the resources here, including healthy women, why did they take so much for granted?

  He pictured Jill. He did not have such a luxury and for once in his life he was grateful for that small gift.

  Chapter Two

  Bacchus arrived on Jill’s awning-covered doorstep early the next morning, toting a briefcase containing notes on Ryan and her brother, John that he’d scribbled the night before. They looked professional at first glance, but wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny.

  He prayed to the Goddess that she wouldn’t ask to see them. He bought the proper clothing for the part he planned to play, so it should be easy enough to use Ryan’s memories and work his way inside Jill’s home.

  There was no guilt, only anticipation. His people were counting on him, on this mission to be a success. Their lives depended on it. He tightened his hair in the queue, then pressed the button on the side of the door.

  Ding-dong, the bell chimed, echoing throughout the structure.

  Silence pervaded.

  Bacchus frowned and hit the button again.

  He heard the pad of bare feet across the floor a second before a sleepy voice called out from the other side. “All right, all right, I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.”

  He looked at his green button-down shirt and tweed jacket. The clothing was different from what he was used to, but comfortable nonetheless. And, most importantly, it concealed his flight suit below.

  Bacchus glanced in the nearby windowpane to check to see if the sunglasses he’d purchased at Venice Beach hid the red of his eyes. They were dark, but not too dark. He wouldn’t need to remove them during their conversation and they would effectively conceal the color. His body radiated heat from being in such close proximity of Jill, sending his pheromones into the air. He inhaled, catching their unique scent. Not now.

  Not yet. He pleaded with his body to remain in control. If they became too strong, they’d render him helpless against his baser instincts and send Jill into a human version of heat.

  * * * * *

  Jill peeked through the spyhole at the tall man standing on her front porch and then opened the door, a can of pepper spray tucked safely behind her back in the waistband of her sweats. She hoped he wasn’t selling vacuum cleaners or whatever salesmen hocked these days.

  She ran her free hand through her disheveled hair, trying to push it out of her face.

  Loneliness kept her awake until two in the morning. She spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in an attempt to dispel the nightmares, which ranged from finding John’s body, to snakes biting her repeatedly. Logically, Jill knew she’d done everything she could for him, but logic had little effect on her emotions. She’d give anything to hear her brother’s voice one more time. Why hadn’t he called if he needed help? He didn’t have to kill himself. Nothing in this life was that bad.

  Jill blinked against the sunlight, cracking one eye open to stare at the stranger. She did a double take as his handsome Greco-Roman face came into focus. Hair, dark as a raven’s wings, swept over his shoulders and down his back. His pale skin defied the Southern California sunshine, creating a luminous glow. He stepped closer and dwarfed the doorframe.

  “May I help you?” she asked, craning her neck to peer into his face. Her heart stuttered as she got a good look at him. Talk about a wake-up call.

  The man stared at her for several seconds, his gaze piercing behind his medium-tint shades. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking from the expression on his strikingly unique face, so Jill gave up trying. It was impossible to form coherent thoughts before her morning cup of coffee. He was probably just another out-of-work actor, like the majority of Los Angeles’ population. Or so she told herself to keep a mental distance between them.

  “I said, may I help you?” she repeated, suddenly getting a whiff of a delicate, yet spicy fragrance emanating from his skin. It seemed to envelop her, filling her lungs and permeating her pores. He smelled so good… like fresh-baked cookies on Christmas morning. She had the sudden urge to unwrap him and start nibbling.

  She shook her head to clear it and dismissed the fanciful thoughts. Skin didn’t smell that way. Maybe it was his cologne or there was something floating in the air along with the Southern California smog. Jill inhaled again and her head swam like she’d taken too much cold medication. Except she wasn’t ill and hadn’t taken a thing other than aspirin the night before. Her hand flew to her temple and she rubbed, trying to clear the dizziness away.

  The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her, and then unexpectedly he smiled. “Are you all right?” he asked, knowing full well the effect he was having on her.

  Jill felt the power of that dazzling predatory grin all the way to her toes, which were now curled beneath her bare feet. She steadied herself. “I’m fine. Probably need to eat something.”

  “Good, then it is I who may be of assistance to you,” he said, a strange accent punctuating his words.

  “You brought me food?” she asked, confused.

  “No.”

  She frowned. Was that a forked tongue in his mouth? He seemed a little old to jump into the piercing and mutilating crowd, but this was L.A. Jill took a breath and blew air up to brush her bangs out of her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t need a vacuum cleaner or a bible. Or whatever else you’re selling today. I have enough crap already.”

  Especially now that she’d inherited John’s belongings.

  The man continued to study her, but didn’t reply. She thought she saw him shudder, and then the fragrance came again. This time stronger.

  Jill’s heart missed a beat and her face flushed. Blood filled areas that hadn’t seen use in a year. Her nipples peaked beneath her T-shirt and moisture dampened her panties.

  She was no longer dizzy, but still felt li
ghtheaded and that was after one smile and a little cologne. Someone should bottle him and call it “Ode to Sex” , she thought. Hadn’t she just considered getting back into dating? You can’t start with a door-to-door salesman, no matter how good he looks, the little voice inside her head warned. The fact that it was right held little consolation. She glanced at the stranger once again. Jill bet this guy made lots of sales when he actually turned on the charm. She wasn’t about to stick around and find out. She didn’t think her resistance was strong enough.

  “Have a good day,” Jill said, pushing the door closed in a sudden panic.

  His hand snaked out and caught the edge before she could finish the job. She pushed harder, but it was like trying to move a concrete pillar.

  “I believe you misunderstand my intentions,” he said. “I am not here to peddle wares.”

  It wasn’t his intentions that worried Jill, as her clit began to throb in time with her pulse. She scratched at her arm to relieve the sudden fever burning beneath her skin.

  What was wrong with her? She didn’t act like this—ever. It didn’t matter how powerful the physical attraction turned out to be.

  What did he mean anyway? He spoke strangely. The formality behind his sentence construction gave her pause. Misunderstand his intentions? Peddle wares? “Look mister, if you don’t leave I’m going to be forced to phone the police.”

  “Many pardons, but I must have a word with you.”

  What bus dropped this guy off? He shifted and her gaze swung past him and landed on the car parked in the driveway. She’d recognize that vehicle anywhere. It was Ryan’s 1968 vintage muscle car. What in the hell happened to it? The bumper was dented and a jagged scratch ran down the side of one of the doors.

  “How?” She gasped, staring at the car as her heart plummeted to her knees. “Where’

  s Ryan? What’s happened to him? Tell me,” she pleaded, no longer concerned with her safety, only her ex-fiancé’s welfare. He was her last connection to her brother, John. She couldn’t lose Ryan too, even though Jill knew in her heart she already had.