by Mlyn Hurn
BLOOD DREAMS
An Ellora’s Cave publication written by
MLYN HURN
Warning:
The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. BLOOD DREAMS has been rated NC-17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy...
Chapter 1
“Vampires do not exist!”
The tall, blond-haired professor looked out at the audience, waiting for the usual sea of hands to rise up for the question period he allowed at the end of each lecture. Scanning the audience, he looked for the usual types that tended to sign up for the course he presented once yearly on “Vampiric Myths and Legends.” Through no effort on his part, what had started out as a one-time lecture given to fill in for a last minute cancellation on the guest lecturer circuit, had rapidly grown into a regular series of lectures, and soon an accredited class.
Iain Dampier, PhD in European History, let his eyes roam over the waving hands until he spotted the type of person he typically let ask the first question. His blue-eyed gaze zeroed in on the gangly, black-haired, pale-skinned young man in the front row. The multiple body piercings and black clothes screamed louder than any words exactly why this young man was here.
The young man jumped to his feet eagerly, revealing his zeal and belief in his soon-to-be voiced opinions. “Professor Dampier, how can you ignore all the literature that supports the existence of vampires down through the ages and in so many different cultures?”
Iain watched the young man, who almost shook with fervor as he resumed his seat. Only as the young man sat did Iain notice the woman seated beside him. The first thing he saw was that the woman was not looking at him. While he wasn’t vain, Iain was aware that nearly every woman he’d ever met had found him irresistibly attractive. He wouldn’t brag, but over the years there had been quite a few whose hearts he’d broken.
The woman moved in her seat, giving Iain a view of her profile, her long neck, and right down to where her Oxford-style shirt parted to reveal a hint of promising cleavage. Her hair was cut into a perfectly smooth bob haircut, with a fringe of bangs starting just above the copper-colored wire frames of her glasses. The sheen of her golden hair glowed deeply under the lights in the auditorium. Iain lifted one eyebrow as he waited for her to turn and focus on him, but still she continued to stare at the young man. Someone clearing her throat finally drew his attention back to the question.
“There has been a definite growing belief in vampires over the years. Ever since Bela Lugosi, a love-hate relationship seems to have arisen. Perhaps it is due to Judeo-Christian beliefs overshadowing scientific facts, but I have yet to come across a documented case of a vampire, with the proper supporting data, and credible witnesses.”
Iain paused to glance towards the young man who had questioned him, letting his gaze slide to the woman beside him. He was startled to find a pair of intense blue eyes staring back at him. Something about her eyes, her whole posture, was trying to tell him or warn him, he realized with a start of surprise. Shaking his head slightly, he looked back at the young man.
“With the popularity of ‘Goth’ subculture, there are a growing number of people who claim to be ‘real’ vampires. These deluded individuals call themselves ‘mortal’ vampires and claim to be real. Yet by a lot of people’s standards for the mythic vampire, that of being undead or immortal, they simply are not! This belief about vampires has been fed by Hollywood’s vision of a myth and the desire to turn a profit. The Goth image, and the makeup, extravagant clothing and jewelry required to fit the part, have become a huge moneymaking business, and apparently show no signs of dying out. Unfortunately, the almighty dollar still drives many people.”
Iain looked again at the woman, this time taking in the full lips, stripped of any false coloring. It appeared as if she had no makeup at all on her face. The blush staining her cheeks was due to warm blood alone.
“Professor Dampier, how can you ignore thousands of years of folklore?” the eager young man persisted before Iain could continue.
Taking a deep breath, Iain nodded patiently. Smiling slightly, he answered him. “You just answered your own question, young man. It is only folklore you have to prove vampires exist. Folklore is stories about myths and so-called over-inflated legends composed to put children to sleep. As adults, we should know the difference between fantasy and reality.”
Iain couldn’t resist turning his head slightly and smiling at the woman. He was surprised that she didn’t smile, or at least blush more deeply in response. Turning away, he spoke into the microphone. “Next question?”
“Could you go over the ‘Dracula Disease’ again, Professor?” A middle-aged woman stood when Iain nodded her way. Her question was one he had expected. Sometimes he wondered if anyone would ask a question that would surprise him.
“Of course. It is porphyria,” he paused to spell the word before continuing. “This is a genetic disease, which means it is hereditary, and a human cannot be infected through blood or body fluid transfer. This puts to rest the myth that it is passed on to a bitten victim.” He smiled as many of the audience chuckled lightly, glancing once again towards the woman. She wasn’t smiling though, and crossed her legs as he continued to look her way.
Iain lowered his gaze and looked at the stocking-covered legs that were long and sleek. For a moment, he was struck with the image of a finely bred racehorse—sensitive, skittish but eager to begin what it was meant to do since birth. Pulling his gaze again from the tempting vision, he chided himself on his unusual lack of control this evening.
“Porphyria is believed to be the reason for the vampire myths down through the ages, and throughout the many cultures around the world. Now in layman’s terms, porphyrins combined with iron forms hemes in the blood. Heme makes the blood red, and if you don’t have the right amount of porphyrins, you can’t have the right amount of heme, which leads to imbalance. It is a commonly held belief that the disease originated among European royalty who, for many reasons, practiced inbreeding.
“One of the rarer forms of the disease, congenital erythropoietic porphyria, has symptoms which can be viewed as vampiric: severe light sensitivity, reddish-brown urine and teeth, mutilation of the nose, ears, eyelids, and fingers, and an excess of body hair. For those who might like to delve a little deeper, there is an excellent book called: Porphyria, The Woman Who Has Vampire Disease. This is the true story of Tammy Evans, who grew up living in a house in darkness. Ms. Evans relates her life as she endures the days when her complexion turns eerily waxy and the suffering caused by visual distortions, abrupt changes of personality and an inability to tolerate sunlight.
“I have more specific information if anyone is interested. You can contact me during my listed office hours. Now, any other questions?” Iain added, glancing back towards the woman.
Several more hands shot into the air, but Iain was concentrating on the woman who was now walking up the aisle towards the rear exit. She was wearing some kind of dark colored jacket and skirt. That, combined with her partially unbuttoned Oxford shirt he’d seen when she’d been seated, gave her a staid look, except for the twitch of the skirt as her hips rotated seductively from side to side.
“Damn!” he muttered under his breath. Not learning the woman’s name was something he regretted suddenly, but dwelling on that would have to wait as several voices called out his name in an attempt to regain his attention.
* * * * *
AnnaBelle Blue breathed in deeply once she reached the cool night air. The air inside the auditorium had been stifling otherwise she would have stayed until the end of the question and answer period. Wal
king quickly to her silver SUV, she unlocked the door and tossed her purse towards the passenger seat. Lifting her free hand, she tugged the short blonde wig off. Shaking her head, her waist-length bright auburn hair swung free. Why her uncle had insisted on her wearing the wig made little sense to her.
Climbing into the vehicle, she shut the door and then reached for the camera beneath her purse. Turning on the overhead light, she looked the camera over, making sure the special film was loaded correctly and ready for the first picture. The dark tinted glass of the sport utility vehicle would prevent anyone from seeing in, but she could quite clearly see the main exit doors of the auditorium. Now she just had to wait for the exodus to begin.
AnnaBelle shifted uneasily on the seat. Something about that professor unnerved her. It was strange that she couldn’t figure out what it was either. Her sensory skills were honed to razor edge perfection. This was much more than just sexual attraction she was feeling. The desire that welled up inside of her as she looked at the handsome professor was so much more than just physical lust. There was a new dimension to this, and it didn’t make sense.
Of course, the truth could be that she was just suffering from jet lag. She’d been awake for over thirty-six hours, ever since her uncle had called her in Paris, pleading for her help. It had taken a few hours to settle her business affairs and then she was on the Concorde’s red-eye flight to New York. Pausing to rub her temples wearily, AnnaBelle wished she had taken the time to call her parents in London before leaving the Continent. Now she would have to worry about time differences and their work schedules to get hold of them. From the frantic sound in her uncle’s voice, she had just assumed that he would have called her parents.
However, since her arrival, her uncle’s level of nervousness surprised her. Fauster Blue was one of the best vampire hunters alive today. Yet his behavior since he’d met her at the airport seemed to belie everything she knew about him. Even though Fauster was only fifty or so, he appeared to have aged at least ten years since she’d last seen him at her parents’ wedding anniversary two years earlier. As he had continued to talk during the ride home to his apartment and while showing her around, her uneasiness grew. Sometimes he was almost manic in his speech and manner, and then he would slump into a morose silence.
At some point during his flitting from one topic to another, he had confided that he had arranged for her to attend a lecture on campus tonight. Even though AnnaBelle questioned him several times before she departed for the class, all he disclosed was that she must listen and observe and then after the lecture, take pictures.
Fauster had then shown her the new film he had developed. After years of trial and error, he’d explained excitedly, this film would be able to capture more than just the image of a vampire. As a vampire hunter, he had added in a near whisper, this would become a valuable tool.
So, here she sat, shivering a little as the cool air seeped into the car while she waited for the lecture attendees to exit. Restless, she reached back and pulled her hair up and over the back of her seat. AnnaBelle was so exhausted from the frantic rushing around and her flight that she lowered her eyelids for a moment. The only thing she needed more than sleep was a good lay!
“What the hell!” Abruptly, AnnaBelle shot upright in the seat. Where in the world had that thought come from? And then she realized she had spoken out loud from the curious looks the young man beside her was shooting in her direction. Covering her eyes with her hand, she flushed in embarrassment. She hoped to God she had not said anything else out loud.
She’d never said, let alone thought of something like that. It simply wasn’t in her nature. Of course, she felt desire for men in general, though it had been several years since she had been strongly enough attracted to a man to let it progress beyond friendship, or a casual acquaintance. So why would she think something like that now, especially when a moment earlier it had been sleep and food on her mind, not sex? She ignored the higher brain function that was trying to remind her of the hierarchy of human needs.
Voices drew her attention, and looking over at the auditorium doors she saw people exiting the building. She snapped a few photos—the young man who had been sitting beside her, a tall, regal looking black woman and an attractive couple who exited arm in arm. The only reason she took those photos was to test her uncle’s film. There was no doubt in her soul that those people were vampires, and this would just test the accuracy of the film.
Deciding she was too tired to trust her judgment, she started to set the camera on the seat beside her. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of the professor exiting the building just then. Immediately something about his presence set her nerves on edge again. The flare of sexual desire, which blazed inside her once more, was close to overwhelming. Without reason or pause, AnnaBelle quickly snapped the handsome professor’s photo—not once, but three times.
Disgusted with herself, AnnaBelle set the camera down and started the engine. She needed sleep, damn it, and food! A big tofu burger, a salad, plus twelve hours uninterrupted sleep and she’d be back to her usual composed, self-assured vampire hunting self. The last thing she needed was sex!
* * * * *
Iain stopped talking and turned his head to watch a silver sports vehicle drive past the group of students he had been speaking with a moment earlier. The windows were too dark and yet he sensed the woman who had intrigued him was inside the departing vehicle. It had been a very, very long time since he had felt such an immediate flare of sexual desire. He wasn’t sure why this woman had this strong of an effect over him, and they hadn't even spoken or been close enough to touch yet. As he turned back to answer another student’s question, he acknowledged that he was going to change those two facts soon.
Chapter 2
AnnaBelle came awake when the lights were turned on in the bedroom her uncle had made up for her to use during her stay with him. Turning over, she saw her uncle standing just inside the bedroom doorway. Pushing her hair out of her face, she sat up slowly.
“Good morning, Fauster.”
“You only took three photos, damn it!” Fauster came over and tossed the prints he’d made from the negatives onto the bed. All of them were perfectly clear.
“Wow! It looks like that film really works, Fauster. That was a good idea to test it out at that lecture last night.”
Fauster shook his head as he ran his hands through his newly grayed hair. It stood on end, which only added to his wild and unruly appearance. “I wanted you to shoot the whole role of film, AnnaBelle. I knew with your intuitive and sensory abilities you would not waste the film on humans.”
AnnaBelle frowned at Fauster’s words. She looked down at the three photos and realized what was wrong. “There were only three negatives to develop? I thought I had taken a few more than that.”
Fauster paused as he started to gather the photos together. “You had a few of the professor, but I didn’t develop those.” He turned and was at the doorway when AnnaBelle’s question stopped him.
“Did you save the negatives?”
“Sure, in the darkroom. By the way, the lecture starts in an hour, so you’d better hurry to get there before you miss anything important.” Fauster walked out, closing the door behind him.
* * * * *
Cursing under her breath, AnnaBelle made her way down the aisle of the auditorium. The lecture had already started, and the only open seats were in the first row. Sure that people were watching her, she made her way to the first empty seat. Not surprisingly, AnnaBelle found herself seated beside the same young man as last night. As she sat down, he turned and grinned at her. He appeared even younger than he had in the photo she had taken of him last night. Smiling thinly, she quickly turned her attention to the stage, the podium and of course, the professor.
* * * * *
Iain had seen her the minute she entered the packed auditorium. There had been articles about his lecture in two of the subculture newsletters, causing even more attendees than the pr
evious nights. Turning his attention back to his notes, he had to clear his throat. From the corner of his eye, he saw the woman shift in her seat. As her legs crossed, his eyes were drawn to their long, silky length.
His sleep had been restless and plagued with visions of this woman. Almost too easily, he had imagined those long legs lifting to encircle his hips. It had felt very real, thrusting into her body, and therefore not surprising that he had ended up using his hand to end his very real physical needs. Shifting his feet, Iain began speaking once again.
“As I was saying, vampire myths date back thousands of years and can be found in nearly every culture around the world. The variety is seemingly endless, ranging from vampire foxes in Japan, the Greek Lamia, which is comprised of the upper body of a woman and the lower body of a winged serpent, to the Penanggalang in Malaysia. This unusual creature consists of a human head with dangling entrails.”
Iain paused for the usual nervous shiver from the women and the accompanying ghoulish noises from the younger men in the audience. Taking a quick moment, he glanced down to see how his golden-haired student took the information. To see her sitting there with a bland look on her face surprised him.
“The modern vampire, although stretched and sometimes reassembled by modern film, is still largely based on Eastern European myth. The vampire you find in most modern literature and film still retains the compulsory blood drinking, rising from death and of course, the obligatory night prowling for helpless victims. When you leave tonight, you might want to check darkened corners and bushes.”
Someone in the front row asked loudly, “For vampires?”
Iain shook his head and laughed. “No! For muggers, or did you forget this is still New York City? A lot of that friendly, protective post ‘nine-eleven’ feeling is starting to fade. It’s back to business as usual for the city’s criminal element.”
