by Alex Bledsoe
“Please,” Lee Ann said, her breath fast and shallow, “both of you, just . . . do it.”
Zginski smiled triumphantly at Fauvette.
Fauvette stretched out beside Lee Ann, turned the girl’s face to her, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
“You’re welcome,” Lee Ann replied, looking away to Zginski.
Fauvette turned the girl’s chin back to her. “No. He has nothing to do with this. It’s me thanking you.”
Zginski braced himself against the side of the camper as the truck turned off the highway and onto the secondary road. Fauvette looked up at him and said, “You could show them the day, like you did me. They might trust you more.”
“When the time comes,” he said. Then he crawled down to reach the bite in Lee Ann’s thigh and, after a preliminary lick to soften the scabs, sank his fangs into the holes. Lee Ann sighed with contentment.
Fauvette turned the girl’s head again and descended to her own bite, letting the warm fluid flow into her. Normally she would have closed her eyes, but this time she positioned herself so she could watch Zginski as he fed.
He held Lee Ann’s soft thigh delicately with his strong, long fingers, and did not seem to be hurting her. If anything, her soft little moans implied she enjoyed being their mutual victim. But that could not really be the case; anything she felt was because Zginski caused her to respond that way. If her mind was clear, would Lee Ann still consent?
Lee Ann reached up and stroked Fauvette’s hair. The gesture was so sisterly, so tender that Fauvette responded in kind. “Yes,” she heard Lee Ann sigh, “oh, yes . . .”
Suddenly they all bounced off the truck bed and slammed back down as the vehicle jumped the ragged track and skidded to a halt behind the warehouse. As he jumped from the driver’s seat Mark slapped the camper shell and said, “Get a move on!” Through the narrow plastic window, Fauvette saw the sunrise now truly coming from the east.
“Let them go,” Zginski said languorously. “We will stay”—he rested a hand on Lee Ann’s bare stomach, just above her navel, and caressed her slowly—“here with her.” Then he settled into his bite again. Fauvette did likewise.
Mark, Leonardo, and Olive rushed into the warehouse. The faint hint of the sun seemed to scald the air around them. As Mark climbed into his coffin, his last moments of consciousness worked around Olive’s mysterious comment about the powder coming from “the stars.”
Shit, he thought, had Toddy gotten the powder from aliens?
• • •
An hour later, Danielle huddled in the corner behind her rocking chair, where it was dark and no one could see her. Her arms clutched her knees to her chest. She still smelled the awful blood from the older vampire’s (They really were vampires! Oh, God!) hand, the one called Zginski. The odor seemed to permeate everything. She knew she was safe only as long as they did not need her, and with the slightest effort any one of them could reduce her to quivering servitude, which was far, far worse than merely drinking her blood. If Zginski had wanted to take her on the floor in front of his friends, she would’ve been on her back in an instant.
She was beyond tears or hysterics now. These fiends had ripped into her life and left it in shreds around her. There was nothing left to repair, no fragments to glue back together; the pieces were too small. The events of the past two days cut soul-deep into her, left her like some still-pulsing organ torn from the warmth of its host body. She could never return to normal.
Someone knocked at the door. Hard, insistent. Official.
“Danielle?” Lyman Newlin called through the door. “Wake up. I need to talk to you.”
Numbly she stood and went to the door. Through the fish-eye peephole she saw Newlin’s distorted face, and opened the door. “Yeah?”
He blinked in surprise when he saw she was still dressed. “You’re up.”
“I’m a ghoul, remember? Come on in.”
He shut the door behind him, then stood with his hands respectfully folded. “You cut yourself?”
She looked up sharply. Droplets of Zginski’s blood stained the floor and wall, a reminder of his reality. The dichotomy between the fantastic creatures that had stood there a mere hour earlier and the fully mundane man who did so now overwhelmed her. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stay in control.
“No,” she said, “I splashed some wine. Haven’t cleaned it up yet.” Danielle shuffled into the kitchen. “I’ll make us some coffee. So what brings you around?” She poured some grounds into the top of the percolator.
He ran his finger along the cracked plaster where Zginski had attacked Mark. “So did you hear the sirens outside earlier?”
“Sirens? No, the building’s pretty soundproof. You don’t hear the street much back here. That’s a mean left turn into the parking lot, though, an accident wouldn’t surprise me.”
He took a deep breath. “I, uh . . . have some bad news.”
With her back to him, Danielle closed her eyes. “What?” she asked distantly, and hoped she could manage a fair approximation of surprise.
“It’s about Skitch and your friend Leslie.”
“What about them?”
“Well, we found them together tonight. Uhm . . . dead.”
Danielle stood very still. What was the appropriate reaction? Hysterics would be very easy. She turned and looked at him. “Dead,” she repeated.
“Yeah. In her car, parked right outside your building. Apparently lightning hit it. I’ve never heard of that happening to a car before, but there are witnesses.”
Danielle just blankly stared. She could muster no feelings at all.
“Any idea why they were in the backseat of her car?” he asked.
“Why does anyone crawl into the backseat?” she said, hoping her horror came across as numb surprise.
“Any idea why they’d be doing it here, practically right outside your door?”
Danielle said nothing.
Newlin regarded her steadily. “So you knew they were having an affair?”
“He was having an affair. She wasn’t married.”
“But you knew?”
She nodded. One more lie on the pile. “They needed a neutral spot to meet.”
Newlin sighed. “Well, I took the liberty of arranging for another M.E. to fly in from Nashville to do the actual autopsies.”
This touched her deeply, and she had to struggle to hold her tears. “Thank you.”
He walked into the kitchen and rested a fatherly hand on her shoulder. She fought the urge to recoil from his touch; she never wanted anyone to touch her again. “Do you want me to stick around?” he said softly.
“No, Lyman. It’s just . . . a lot to absorb.”
“Yeah.” Just when she thought he was turning to leave, he stopped and looked down at his shoes. “I’ve known Leslie’s dad a long time. One of the first black street officers in the department. He’s gonna take this real hard. He was always so proud of Leslie, the way she made her own way and everything. I already had to tell Skitch’s wife; she damn near needed a straitjacket. Had no clue anything was going on.” He shook his head. “Well, I won’t keep you. If the guys down at the M.E.’s office pass the hat for Skitch, let me know so I can pitch in. Leslie was a helluva girl, even though she was colored, so I can’t really blame him for goin’ after her, I guess.”
After Newlin left, Danielle drank another glass of wine and watched the sun tinge the skyline. Where were the vampires now? she wondered. Where did the sunrise find them? Did they really sleep in coffins, and if so, where did they hide them?
And then she knew.
She very carefully finished her wine and placed the glass in the sink. She poured a cup of coffee and left it to cool. Then she went into the closet and dug out her .38 pistol and the box of shells. As dawn broke over the city she cleaned and oiled the weapon, loaded it and spun the cylinder expertly. Once she had been a pretty good shot; and whatever her marksmanship, she was still very, v
ery clever.
Bullets wouldn’t be all she had on hand, though. Not against them. After she’d had time to prepare a special little surprise, things would go very, very differently.
It was full dawn by the time Zginski and Fauvette were satiated, and Lee Ann had long since passed out. They emerged from the camper and into the sunlight, Fauvette wincing and shading her eyes. Still, the sight was magnificent: acres of green-gold weeds with white and yellow flowers, the tall trees all around heavy with luxurious foliage, and a blue, cloudless sky.
“Why didn’t you tell them?” Fauvette said. “They’re hiding in the dark like animals. They could be out here with us.”
He smiled at her, his eyes heavy with blood and satiation. He took her hand, raised it, and pulled her into a twirl that ended with her pressed against him, his other hand at the small of her back. “Because I do not know them, ma petite Fauvette. They are strangers, and strangers are inherently dangerous.”
“They’re my friends,” she said, pushing herself firmly away. “I know them.”
“And I know you?”
“You know me well enough. I won’t lie to you, and I won’t betray you.”
With no warning, he pulled her back into his arms. “We have shared many things, yes. But not enough for me to consider you an ally. Not nearly enough.”
He was so handsome, with his disheveled hair falling in his eyes and his smile of superiority that Fauvette could only stare as he bent to her mouth. When his lips touched hers she kissed him back, tentatively at first, waiting to see if he would force her to want it the way he had in the alley. But she felt no external pressure, no uncharacteristic need for him. He was kissing her because he wanted to, not to prove a point or demonstrate his power.
And then she crushed her lips to his so hard their teeth clacked together and made them both giggle. She put her arms around his neck and ran her hands through his hair, grateful that he was closer to her height than Mark.
The sudden thought of Mark, kind and gentle and always looking out for her, brought her back to earth and she broke the kiss, turning her head. “No, wait,” she said. She put her hands on his chest but did not push him away. “This . . . is way too fast. Way too fast.”
He released her without a struggle. “The advantage to our condition is that we have a surfeit of time,” he said with surprising kindness. “When you are ready, come to me.”
He did not say “Come to me” in the same smoky, commanding tone he used with Lee Ann. This time it was an invitation to somewhere warm and safe, where arms waited to hold her in an embrace that did not involve causing someone pain. Just when she’d gotten used to him as an asshole.
She looked out at the waving grass. A quail shot up from cover, its wing tips slapping as it dashed for a new hiding place. Insects buzzed across the flowers. Zginski had given this to her; for a woman who believed herself doomed to the darkness, there could be no greater gift. “It’ll happen,” she said, and she believed it. “It will.”
“Then, for now, let us rest,” he said. “Tonight has the potential to be very eventful. We will need our strength.”
“My coffin isn’t big enough for both of us.”
“We need only darkness,” Zginski said, and she followed him into the warehouse. She felt a deep tingle of anticipation.
CHAPTER 27
THEY WENT THROUGH the main part of the warehouse and down the stairwell toward the boiler. When they were completely shielded from the sunlight, Zginski stopped and pulled her into his arms again. She was too startled to protest.
“I find myself drawn to the idea of touching you,” he said softly, his accent making the words sound even more lush.
“So I see,” she said. His embrace was firm but not overpowering.
“Your beauty is the kind that makes an existence like ours worthwhile. It will never tarnish or fade.”
“I bet you say that to all the vampires you seduce.”
“I’ve never seduced a vampire before.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am sincere. None has ever appealed to me as you do.”
The next kiss was even hotter, and she felt his erection against her through their clothes. It seemed oddly incongruous that this powerful being who could command the storms was prey to the same base desires as other males, yet she also could not deny that her own body was responding as well. “Not bad for your first time,” she said when their lips parted.
“I may not know the specific trail, but the forest is very familiar to me.”
“I don’t know if I like that. I can’t tell if you’re seducing me or hunting me.”
“How about . . . I might not know the song, but I know the funk when I hear it.”
She giggled. “You got that from Lee Ann.”
“Yes,” he admitted with a faux sheepish smile. “She calls what we do ‘groovalistic.’ ”
“Also a little sadistic,” Fauvette pointed out.
He nodded. “Sadistic and groovalistic.” He paused, then said, “I will give you only the groovalistic part.”
Again she giggled. “No more jive talk for you, okay?”
“Agreed.”
He lifted her easily into his arms and carried her into one of the abandoned offices along the hallway to the boiler. Except for an old wooden desk the room was empty, its floor relatively clean of debris. He kicked the door shut without breaking their kiss.
Despite relishing his attention, Fauvette was thoroughly confused by his motives. He was a man who would use people, even other vampires, easily and willingly. Why was he suddenly so hot for her? She could ask, but how would she know if his answer was honest? And more important, given the sensations that he was conjuring in her body with just his lips, why did she care?
She turned her head slightly and said, “Wait. I need to tell you something.”
“No,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her again.
“Yes,” she said, and her tone made him stop. He’s not forcing me, she realized. He’s not making me do this.
In the total darkness he saw her as one vampire sees another. “Do you not wish this?” he asked with a hint of his old arrogance. “Have I misinterpreted your response?”
“No, that’s not it, I just need to tell you something first. Please.”
He carefully set her down. She leaned back against the wall and caught her breath, an odd feeling since she did not normally need to breathe. When the blood stopped pulsing in her ears and other places, she said, “Do you remember when I told you how I became a vampire?”
He stood respectfully with his hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, of course.”
“There’s something I left out. I was a virgin when I was killed.”
He immediately understood her meaning. Virgin vampires of either gender were normally asexual. Only the merest sexual response could be forced from them by a more powerful vampire, although they in turn could inspire them in others to a much greater degree. “I was unaware of that.”
“I know what you’re thinking, but there’s more. I was raped after I died, but before I rose as a vampire. So I’m capable of feeling everything, yet my virginity returns each time it’s taken. Just like that cut on your hand will be gone tomorrow, if we . . .” Suddenly she could not get the words out, and had to gulp big lungfuls of air. “If we make love tonight, I’ll be a virgin again after I sleep.”
His expression was unreadable. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“Yeah, well, it’s no picnic, believe me.”
“So to experience love with me, you will have to endure the pain of losing your maidenhead?”
She nodded.
“Every time?”
She nodded again, her head down. She felt ashamed and dirty.
He touched her chin and turned her face up to his. “I cannot change this, Fauvette. But I believe I can minimize it. I have exerted only a small part of my power over you in the past. Its full influence would . . . alter your priorities.”
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“Would I be your slave, like Lee Ann?”
He shook his head. “No. I have never met anyone like you, Fauvette. I am far too intrigued by you to do anything to permanently change you.”
“That sounds like a come-on,” she said with a little smile.
“It is,” he said as he leaned in close, “a promise.” He kissed her lightly and said in a whisper, “With your permission?”
She licked her lips and, before she changed her mind, nodded.
Later she would have time to absorb what it had felt like to have her will and personality completely overwhelmed by a desire so strong it rivaled the blood-hunger. Zginski took her on the floor of the room, and she responded with a ferocity she’d never imagined she could feel. He broke through her intimate barrier at some point, but she had no clear memory of the moment amid the general thrashing, writhing, and moaning.
Guided by his hands and her own need, she descended into sex that was as ferocious as any attack. Her nails tore at his skin, flaying strips from his back and arms, while he left vicious bites on her breasts and shoulders. Finally they again sank their fangs into each other’s neck, merging in a way she’d never imagined possible, and she experienced psychic sensations of his orgasm along with the intensity of her own. The mutual climax left her a weak, shredded thing limp in his arms.
Later she lay beside him on the floor and felt his body grow rigid as the true sleep came over him. His power over her faded as well, and she was back to her full self, aware and in control. She felt the blood between her thighs, and the soreness, but they seemed minor and inconsequential compared to the other feelings. And like the jagged wounds torn by his teeth, they would vanish after her rest.
In the darkness she studied his inert features. How much could she really trust him? Was this all part of some elaborate scheme to destroy her and her friends so he would have Memphis to himself? And how would she ever explain this to Mark?
