As he tracked it, he realized that his body was moving quickly. He was sprinting through the woods, dodging trees as if he knew they were coming up. And as he moved, he did so with stealth. His feet on the ground left hardly any noise. He took all of this in and was overcome with a sense of absolute peace and accomplishment and before he knew it, he was standing at the base of the tree where the owl had nested.
Larry looked up and saw the owl sitting there, perched upon a branch and peering out into the night with its large eyes. Larry reached out to the tree with the intention of climbing it. Instead, as if he had been yanked by an enthusiastic puppeteer, Larry felt himself leaping form the ground and soaring into the air. The branches that he hit on the way up the tree were pulverized and reduced to splinters.
And before he had time to enjoy this sensation, his hands had wrapped around the plush body of the owl. It struggled to escape but was much slower than Larry. Larry had never been fast, not even as a teen in high school as he had fought his way onto the JV baseball team. But he sure as hell was fast now. The owl couldn’t even push itself from its branch before Larry’s hands were on it.
The owl shrieked and pecked at Larry’s hand but before it could land a single attack, Larry squeezed down hard. There was a slightly wet popping sound as the owl’s insides were crushed.
Larry felt the limp body in his hands and then leaped back down to the ground. There, he lifted the crushed owl carcass to his mouth and bit into it. He spat out several feathers before he found the flesh and the warm blood beneath. The taste of it was nothing in comparison to that of the policemen, but it was enough to sate him.
He drained the owl’s body and tossed it to the ground. While the meal was not large by any means, he found himself exhausted.
That’s okay, the ghostlike voice said. Your human form must rest as it adapts to your new abilities.
Larry went back towards Filth Camp, not questioning the voice at all. None of this seemed unnatural to him. Naked, stained with owl blood, and apparently now equipped with eerie strength and speed—but he felt as if he had been this way forever.
When he returned to the field of Filth Camp, he saw the tall dark figure waiting for him. He stood as still as a statue, dressed in his black suit that seemed to be darker than the night itself.
Rest, Larry.
Larry knew that the voice was coming from the man in the dark suit. He walked closer towards the figure, now walking in a nearly somnambulistic state. His eyes never left the tall man.
“Who are you?” Larry asked.
“Your savior,” the man said. Hearing his actual voice rather than the gentle voice within his head was slightly jarring. Larry felt the urge to run away. The more he studied this man, the more there was to be afraid of. His eyes seemed to be set too closely together and there was something about his stature that made him look like he was hiding something behind his back.
“What’s happening to me?” Larry asked.
“You’ll know soon enough. For now, you must let your body adapt to it all. Soon, we will have much work to do.”
Larry asked his same question again: “Who are you?”
“My name is Gestalt.”
“And where did you come from?”
The figure named Gestalt seemed to get annoyed at this question. His face appeared to flex as he gave a sigh of annoyance.
“That doesn’t concern you. None of that matters. Nothing matters. You must rest, Larry. You have much to do soon.”
“Will…will you protect me?”
Larry wasn’t even sure why he had asked this question. He was terrified in this man’s presence but there was also something about him that made Larry feel safe and secure.
“Yes,” Gestalt said. “Larry, you are to be my soldier. I will protect you. Now rest.”
Larry nodded sleepily and nearly collapsed in the field. Before he slipped into sleep, he was very aware of the Gestalt’s presence. He also thought of the police car, parked just a few feet away.
Don’t worry about that, Gestalt said. More of them will come, but I will make sure you are not found. I have you now, Larry.
That was all that Larry needed to hear. He let himself fall asleep, still naked in the tall grass of the field.
5
Jill had enough. One day after Saul and Nikki had arrived back home, the way they looked at one another and closed the door to their room softly at night made Jill antsy. It was the reason she had headed out to the nearby town of Macklin. There were two bars there—one that catered to millworkers and rednecks, and the other that had more of a free-spirited element to it.
She decided on the rougher type, heading into the bar with the hopes of finding a man that was going to be a challenge for her. She knew that she was incredibly attractive; she had an hourglass figure that was usually only seen in comic books and a smile that transformed her face entirely.
It took her less than fifteen minutes to engage a man in conversation. She knew right away that he was drunk, though. And she was going to need a man with some stamina and imagination. She ended up selecting a twenty-three-year-old guy that worked at the local lumber yard. She could tell that he had strong hands. And she could also tell by the way he looked at her that he would not be the “wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am” type.
They took her car to a small motel on the outskirts of town—a dumpy little place that was in bad need of a paint job. Jill wasn’t about to take her one-night stand to the cabin and she had no interest in going to his place.
Jill was on him the moment the door was closed behind them. She had only kissed two men in her life and they had been men that she had been devastatingly attracted to. This man was average-looking at best so when she went to him, she wasted no time with kisses. She knew right away what she wanted and she guided him with confident demands that he seemed to welcome.
Jill lifted his shirt off right away and threw it to the ground. She ran her hands down his chest hard enough to make him wince slightly. It was her way of letting him know the pace she wanted. When her hands reached the waist of his jeans, she unzipped them quickly. When the man was standing there in his boxers, she realized that she didn’t even know his name. He had told her at some point during the night, but she no longer remembered. Neither did she care.
It had been too long. It took great restraint not to simply throw him down and take the pleasure that she wanted and being done with it in a matter of minutes. But that was not what Jill wanted. No. This lucky boy was about to get the night of his life.
Jill lifted her shirt over her head and his hands were on her ample breasts instantly. She slapped them away and shook her head. When she unfastened her bra and dropped it to the ground, he looked like a puppy that desperately wanted to be petted. His hands came up for her again but she knocked them down again.
“Take my pants off,” she commanded. “Slowly.”
He did as he was asked. When he slid them down, he went to his knees to pull them off over her feet. When he tried to get up, Jill pushed him back to his knees. He looked up to her, surprised by her strength.
“Now my panties. With your teeth.”
He did that, too. When she felt his breath on her down there, the energy within her body spiked even more. She felt a squirm which she suppressed. Finally, her panties joined her pants.
“Lie down,” she told him.
He did, walking towards the shabby bed. When he worked his way slowly onto it, she pushed him down onto his back. He smiled up at her, realizing what was to come. “You really like to—,”
“Quiet,” she ordered. “Don’t talk.”
Jill got onto the bed and straddled him. She toyed with him for a moment, their hips grinding together. He grunted and when he started grabbing for her, she slapped his hands away again. She continued to straddle him, working her way up. She slid her sex across his chest and then lifted herself slightly. She leaned forward, holding herself against the wall, and lowered herself gently onto his mouth.
He was a little too eager for her tastes, so she lifted off of him and gave him a stern look. “Take your time,” she said. “There’s no rush here.”
She lowered her sex to his mouth again and tilted her hips slightly to help him get his tongue to where she wanted it. She was delighted to find that he was quite good at this. As he did her bidding, she arched her back and used one hand to reach back and stroke him through his boxer shorts. As she did, he worked with more urgency. She felt an orgasm coming, barreling forward like a train.
When it hit, Jill gasped and shuddered. But she did not cry out; she would not let him think that he was in control in any way.
Jill worked her way back down his chest and tore his boxers off. She went to her hands and knees and hovered over his manhood. It seemed to be quivering with anticipation. She lowered her head to it and stuck out her tongue, barely touching it at all. He writhed under her as she reached the tip and took it just barely into her mouth.
He tilted his hips up, trying to get her to take it all into her mouth. Jill pushed him down, gave one final lick along his shaft, and then turned her back to him. She was still on her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a devilish grin.
“Tease me first,” she demanded. “And then fuck me. Hard. If it’s not hard enough, I’ll leave.”
He was practically panting now. He got to his knees and did his best to tease her. But he was too anxious. The teasing was over quickly and then he was in her, going at it with a speed and vigor that impressed her.
Jill met each thrust with one of her own; the man began to grunt and moan. When she felt his grip tightening on her hips several minutes later, she quickly drew away from him. He looked at her sadly, reaching out for her.
Jill pushed him back down and straddled him again. This time, there was no teasing on her part. He slipped inside of her easily as she sat perched atop of him. She took his hands as she lowered herself to him, and placed them on her chest.
After letting him play with her breasts for a while, she sat back up straight and had her way with him. She grinded down, arching her back to let him see her as she worked him towards his climax. When he came, it was hard. He screamed as she continued to ride him, managing to work herself toward her second orgasm of the night.
When it was over, he went into the bathroom to clean himself up. “You know,” he said, “I think that—,”
“Shut up,” Jill said.
Jill reached out to him from the bed and pulled him to her. Before he was aware of what was happening, she had him pulled to her and was putting his softened member into her mouth. She worked feverishly, knowing that so soon after climax, it would be a while before she would have it the way she wanted.
And that was fine with her. He shivered as he stood there and she got up from the bed, never taking him out of her mouth, and pushed him against the wall. A picture fell from the wall and shattered against the floor.
He was moaning, his hands in her hair, pushing it aside so he could watch her. Jill looked up at him and saw that he was biting his lip, trying not to scream out in pleasure.
Finally, he was hard again. Jill took him out of her mouth and guided him back to the bed.
“We’ve just started,” she teased. “You’ve got one hell of a long night ahead of you.”
With that, she went to him again and was delighted to see the slightest traces of worry touch his face.
CHAPTER THREE
1
Of all of the training she’d had with Jess Sauer—the only personal trainer within a thirty-mile radius of Red Creek—Kara’s favorite go-to exercise was the punching bag. There was such a raw, primitive sort of release whenever she laced up her gloves and tore into the punching bag. She wondered how she had ever lived her life without using it as an emotional aid.
Kara was in her fighter’s stance now, hammering away at the punching bag. Her hair was in a ponytail, swinging back and forth across her back like a pendulum as she struck and pivoted, struck and pivoted. Jess was standing behind the bag, holding it steady but also allowing it to move just enough so that Kara would have to follow it with her eyes and fists.
The punches she was throwing tonight were harder than usual, propelled with anger and sorrow at the loss of Sheriff Morel. Her knuckles were getting sore and her wrists were aching. Sweat was trickling down her face and her arms were on fire. But she continued to lay into the punching bag.
“Okay,” Jess said from behind the bag. “That’s good.”
“No,” Kara panted. “More.”
She did not give him a change to answer, continuing to pummel the swinging bag. She threw the punches harder than ever now, propelling the bag backward and taking Jess by surprise. She saw him looking at her with concern, his fierce blue eyes boring into her from behind the bag. Any other time this might have elicited a smile from her, but not today. Today her focus was on the bag, on punching until she couldn’t lift her arms. She needed to do something with the rage, and this was the best idea she had had so far.
“Kara,” Jess was saying, a bit of worry in his voice. “Come on…that’s enough.”
Kara shook her head and threw a hard right cross. She followed with a left, another right and then a series of rabbit-like punches. She realized that she was beginning to cry and this only fueled her further. But when she threw her next punch, she realized right away that Jess was no longer holding the bag. He had taken a single step away from it and was looking at her with genuine concern on his face.
“Kara, stop.”
It was the urgency in his voice that got through to her. She threw one last hard right and then dropped her arms. Jess came over to her and took her gloved hands. He slowly started to unlace them as he looked her in the eyes.
“Is this anger about Sheriff Morel?” he asked.
“Mostly,” she said.
Kara had told him about the Sheriff’s death. Of course, she had not told him what sort of forces she believed to be behind it. Jess knew nothing of what Kara had gone through a little over three months ago—not about the vampires, not about Saul Benton or Nikki Galimore. She’d wanted to keep that craziness away from him, especially once she had realized that Jess was becoming important to her in a way not connected to his being her trainer.
Jess removed Kara’s gloves; they both saw that she had split the skin on most of her knuckles. Small splotches of blood showed and she looked away from them, as if denying that her blind rage had just caused those scrapes.
“Kara, you can’t let anger fuel your workouts. You can’t let anger fuel anything. You need to leave your anger or sorrow or anything else that causes you distress in the car before you step into a gym. You understand?”
“Yes,” she said. Kara didn’t like the fact that he was talking to her like she was a little girl that had accidentally broken a vase. She wiped the tears away from her face and then looked to the floor. She didn’t want Jess to see her like this.
Jess took her face in his hands and looked her dead in the eyes. For one dizzying moment, she thought he was going to kiss her—to finally break through the tension that had been building between them and kiss her. But he did no such thing. He just looked lovingly at her and said: “I’m your trainer, but I’m also your friend. If there’s anything you need to talk about, you can.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Kara claimed. “It’s just the way he was killed…so savagely, you know?” It pained her to not be able to go into more detail with him. Hell, it hurt to not be able to go into with anyone. She had come close to telling Morel everything on a few occasions but had always decided not to at the last minute. What would he think of her?
Well, now he was gone and she wouldn’t have to worry about that. He was dead, very likely killed by the very thing she had never discussed with him, and she couldn’t help but think that it was her fault.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jess asked. “If so, let me know—because trying to push it out through your anger is not
healthy. You know that, right?”
She nodded and finally looked at him. She’d had a crush on him since she had first come to him for training. He was in his early thirties, four years younger than her, and was built like a Greek god. Jess had a black belt in some weird sort of martial arts that Kara couldn’t even pronounce. It was very impressive to a beginner; even now, months later, Kara found herself looking up to Jess for his professionalism and dedication.
Over time, her crush had become something more—not love, but something more physical—and for the last few training sessions, he couldn’t so much as touch her without her heart leaping and a pleasant tingling sensation below her waist.
“Let me help,” Jess said to her now, their eyes locked.
And before she knew she was going to do it, she was kissing him. He pulled away at once, taken by surprise, but she was insistent. Kara grabbed his face and brought it back to hers. His lips were soft even though he was putting up a fight.
He broke away again. “Kara, no. I’m not taking advantage of you like that.”
She laughed. “If anything I’d be taking advantage of you.”
Jess did not laugh.
Kara sighed and looked back to the floor, embarrassed. “I want you,” she said. “I have for a few weeks now. And with this anger or whatever it is in me, mingled with this physical thing I have for you, I probably shouldn’t be here.”
“Kara…”
“No. It’s okay. I should go.”
Kara turned and walked away, headed for the small bathroom that was connected to Jess’s gym. There was a shower in there that she typically used after workouts but she thought she’d skip it today. She wanted to get the hell out of here before her embarrassment and anger suffocated her.
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