‘But don’t call the families Chan Li or Simon Wong. They’re the two who died.’
Pal promised he would respect the families and sat down, a string coffee in hand. The first three names – three women – and he got little out of them except that they thought the place was creepy, that they felt was haunted. One of the women came right out and called it ‘evil’. Pal just rolled his eyes.
He called a few more people, losing hope that he would get any more out of them. Another ex-tenant was dead, kidney cancer, his widow told Pal. Pal expressed his sympathies. ‘Did you notice anything strange about the apartment?’ he asked her carefully.
‘I never lived there, nor spent any significant time there. We…we have separated a few weeks before his diagnosis and when he got too sick, he came home to me here. He said he didn’t want me to be in that apartment, that he was sure it had made him sick.’
‘How could an apartment have made him get cancer?’
The woman sighed. ‘I don’t know. He was barely lucid in his last days. He rambled on about a painting, a woman, how she had infected him. All the workings of a diseased mind, I’m afraid.’
Pal ended the call, his entire body cold. No. There was no way that the man’s cancer had been caused by Jing-Mai but the fact that he knew about her. Jealousy and rage ran through him. So he wasn’t her only lover? He asked himself – did he really think he had been? He had no idea about anything in Jing-Mai’s life or history or even – and he laughed out loud now – what she was. Was she human? The softness of her skin, the damp warmth of her cunt, of her lips – how could she be anything else?
He resolved to ask her that night but when she came, she hushed him with her lips and they made love tenderly, Jing-Mai so respectful of his recovering body that he forgot all the questions he wanted to ask her. He laid his head between her pillowy breasts and slept until morning.
The day before New Year’s Eve, he awoke to find himself sick again and this time, there was blood in his vomit. He called Ken who came immediately and took him to the emergency room. X-rays, scans, blood tests, urine tests. A young Chinese doctor came to see him.
‘Mr Magnessen, I’m sorry to have to tell you that it’s not good news. Your urine and blood tests tell us that your kidneys are shutting down. Tell me, do you drink alcohol in excess?’
Pal shook his head. ‘I have maybe two, three drinks a week, if that. More this week because of the holidays, of course.’
The doctor was making notes. ‘And you’ve not experienced these symptoms before?’
‘No.’
The doctor sighed. ‘We’ll keep you in, run some more tests, see if we can stop the deterioration. The way it’s going now, I’m afraid we’re looking at a possible transplant scenario.’
Pal was quiet, just nodded quietly. Ken looked appalled. ‘Dear god, Pal…I’m so sorry.’
Pal laughed quietly. ‘Not your fault, just one of those things.’
But he couldn’t stop thinking about Jing-Mai and what the widow of the previous tenant had said. There could not possibly be a link, could there? From what he had learned, the other two tenants who had died – well, one had committed suicide, the other had leapt from the top of the building…something clicked in his memory and he turned to Ken.
‘Ken, that economics professor you told me about, the one who had lived in my building, who jumped….what was his name?’
‘Simon Wong, I think. Why?’
‘Could you do me a favor? Could you check out his story? Was he married, separated…did he have mental health problems?’
Ken looked unhappy. ‘Why? Look, I think he used to work with Glenn at a university in Japan so I can ask him, but why do you need to know?’
Pal shivered, a chill settling on him. ‘Because I want to know if it’s…if the infection, the viruses have originated in the apartment. I don’t know, Ken, I’m just looking for answers.’
‘To what?’
Pal fixed his friend with a steady gaze. ‘Because I had a full medical six weeks ago, Ken, and there was no sign of any kidney disease, of any kind of problem. So…’
‘Understood.’ Ken nodded, and stood. ‘You stay here, rest, and I’ll try and find out what I can.’
Pal thought he might not sleep that night. Although he was in a private room – thanks to the university’s excellent health insurance – the noises from the rest of the hospital were an irritant. Thankfully, they have him a sleeping tablet and he sank into a dreamless sleep.
Pal. Pal? My darling, I am here…He opened his eyes and there she was. She seemed to be hovering above him, her black hair hanging down over one shoulder, an ebony curtain. He reached his arms up and she went into them. God, the scent of her skin, so sweet, so heady. Her lips were against his. ‘Pal, love me, say those sweet things you always say to me, Pal, say them…’
Oh, her delicious voice, curling around his brain, the sweetest seduction. He murmured her name over and over as their limbs tangled and their skin joined as one. Jing-Mai stroked his cock into a throbbing, hard tower and guided him inside as he moaned gently. ‘You are my love, my only love…’ He told her again and again as they made love and he realized that even if he were dying, he would still have the love of this incredible woman. ‘Say sweet things,’ her lisp had become more pronounced and he loved it, the sensual purr of it vibrating through his body. At the point of climax, white sparks exploded in his brain and he didn’t care if he woke again in the morning or not. He belonged to her, for now and all time…
‘Mr Magnessen? Good morning. I have good news, your vitals have picked up since I last checked on you. Looks like you’ll see in the New Year with us after all.’
The doctor’s false jollity didn’t fool Pal one bit, despite the fact he did feel better this morning and he knew one thing for damn sure – he wasn’t staying in this place another night.
They tried to stop him, of course, tried to calm him but he refused and walked out of the hospital just after midday. The pain was bad, but at least he didn’t feel sick anymore. That’s what he told himself. At least I don’t feel sick.
He didn’t go home straight away; instead he took a cab to Ken’s place. His friend was shocked to see him.
‘God damn, Pal, do you have a death wish? Come in; sit down before you fall down.’
Ken fussed around him and Pal had to admit, it was a comfort. Ken made him sit down on the couch, brought him water and hot soup, a blanket to wrap around him. He eventually sat down, nodding at the soup. ‘Eat, Pal. I’m not telling you anything until you finish that bowl.’
The soup, Wanton, sweet and sour, was good and Pal surprised himself by finishing it. He sat back as Ken cleared his bowl. ‘Now, Ken, what have you found out about Simon Wong?’
Ken sighed, rubbed his eyes. ‘It’s pretty messed up, Pal. Simon Wong was a respected economics lecturer – he was shortlisted for the Nobel a few times. He came to teach at the School of Economics and Finance and a colleague told him about the apartment.’
Pal smiled weakly. ‘Just like you did for me.’
Ken laughed without humor. ‘Just like I did for you. He took the apartment obviously, but after a few weeks, his colleagues reported that he kept missing classes, without reason, and his appearance change dramatically. He became almost emaciated, almost cadaverous, they said. They staged an intervention, thinking he was on drugs but he assured them he was well, her had just had the flu. As he was leaving the room, one colleague thought he heard him mumble ‘I have her, that’s all I need’. The colleague asked him to repeat it, but Simon just smiled. The next day he threw himself from the top of your apartment building. Every bone in his body was broken but the worse thing they found was that all of his major organs were rotted. He would not have survived the day anyway.’
Ken looked sick, and Pal felt vomit rise in his throat. ‘He spoke about Jing-Mai?’
Ken nodded. ‘I think it can only have been her. Apparently the police found no trace of the woman he spoke of but give
n the similarity in your condition…’
‘You think my organs are rotting?’
Ken gazed at his friend with bottomless sorrow in his eyes. ‘I see before me half the man who came to this city a week ago. A week, Pal. What other conclusion must be reached?’
Pal closed his eyes, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion. However much he wanted to deny it, he could feel it happening. Every nerve ending in his body screamed with pain, every time his heart beat, it resonated with agony. He could not pee without burning, searing torture but his bladder was constantly full.
I’m liquefying. The though came unbidden and yet Pal knew it was true. He looked at Ken. ‘I must go home.’
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
‘I have to. If I am not long for this world, then I will at least leave it knowing why this is happening to me.’
As he rode in the cab home, after saying his goodbyes to a worried Ken, he wondered if he would see his friend again.
He sat up and waited for her. He watched as she stepped from the painting and smiled. ‘You look well, my love,’ she purred. Actually, as he listened now, it wasn’t a purr, more of a hum, a vibration, almost…
‘Darling love, I can see you are distracted tonight. Perhaps I can soothe you?’ she sat down and curled herself into his side, her lips against his neck. Pal wanted to push her away but the feel of her skin against his…
‘My darling Jing-Mai, I must talk to you before we can be together.’
She pulled away and her dark gold eyes burned. ‘Of course.’
He studied her. God, she was so lovely, so precious. ‘I am sick, my love. Real sick. Docs don’t think I’ll last much longer.’
An expression came into her eyes that he couldn’t read. ‘I can make you feel better.’
He smiled. ‘Did you make Simon Wong feel better?’
Her expression didn’t change. ‘Simon was a dear friend but he was deeply unhappy.’
‘And sick?’
She looked away. ‘I do not know, he never told me.’
She’s lying. Pal looked at the clock. ‘You’re early tonight, it’s not even midnight.’
‘It’s a special night, my love.’
Pal Magnessen closed his eyes and felt her hands on his body. He felt her mouth on his cock, sucking and sucking and it felt like he was being sucked dry. Maybe I am, he thought, his mind swirling as if her touch was making him high. What did it matter now? Wouldn’t it be better to go like this?
He heard the sound she was making and finally understood what she was and yet, now, he didn’t care. At least I was loved, he thought, at least I was loved…
***
Ken Woo spoke to the police and then went to work, not wanting to be alone. The remnants of Christmas and the Millennium decorations hung forlornly around the faculty building, echoing the desolation he felt. He was greeted a couple of colleagues who, seeing his face, sat him down and fed him scotch.
When Pal hadn’t answered any of his phone calls, he called the realtor. He didn’t think the realtor would stop throwing up ever again. They’d found Pal on his couch, every organ liquefied and drained from him. They’d called the emergency services. Ken would never forget his friend’s desiccated face. He looked for the painting that Pal said was of Jing-Mai, for something to give to the police but even he could tell that nothing human had done this to his friend.
Nothing human.
Laurence Hardacre tried not to stare at the realtor’s pale face as he showed him around the penthouse. The dude looked sick as a dog and had barely even stepped inside the living room.
Laurence smirked. Who cared? This place was a steal. He moved around the apartment, admiring the view then turned and saw the painting. He whistled.
‘Gee, man, what a painting. That’s beautiful, man.’ He looked at the realtor. ‘I’ll take the place. Hell yeas, I’ll take this god damned palace, and that painting.’
As he followed his client from the apartment, the realtor shook his head. He’d never seen what everyone saw in that painting. They acted if it was the damn Mona Lisa.
All he saw was a painting of an Asian Hornet. Vespa Velutina. Nasty, dangerous thing.
He shut the door and didn’t hear the buzzing from within.
The End
To be Continued
The Dark Season Series
An Alpha Billionaire Romance
Ways To Be Wicked
Book 3
By Michelle Love
Description
Newly-weds Rebekah and Flynn travel to a luxurious mansion in the Louisiana bayou for their honeymoon amidst a unexpected Christmas snow storm. When they get there however, they find a mystery which could end their happy time together forever…
Ways To Be Wicked
Louisiana, 1899…
Way down deep, near the Louisiana swamplands, just outside New Orleans, was a magnificent mansion. The owner of this mansion was a very rich man who, despite his riches, was also a kind and generous man. When his nephew became betrothed to his sweetheart, the kind millionaire offered the use of the mansion to them for their honeymoon. ‘I have just one warning,’ he said. ‘There is a boathouse at the far end of the property – whatever you do, don’t go there after dark!’
The newlyweds, Rebekah and Flynn, set off for the mansion on Christmas Eve through an unprecedented snowstorm that covered most of the southern States in several feet of snow. A journey that should have taken them less than a day now took them until just before midnight. Luckily, the fires in the house had been lit and a huge tree covered in decorations.
‘Oh, it’s just lovely,’ Rebekah exclaimed and kissed her new husband. ‘What could be a more romantic than spending the first moment of Christmas day in front of this fire?’
Flynn had a much more romantic idea in mind for their wedding night but he knew what a sentimental doll Rebekah could be – and what a sullen pout she had when she didn’t get her own way, so he smiled indulgently. ‘It’s perfect. I’ll see if the staff lave left us any food.’
He found the kitchen staff, drooping from exhaustion, had prepared them a feast and he thanked them profusely. ‘Please, if you haven’t eaten, please join us. This food is too much for just us too.’
‘We wouldn’t dream of invading your privacy.’
Flynn smiled. ‘You are too kind. I tell you what…I’ll just take enough for two on that tray there and you help us out by eating the rest. And thank you, you must be exhausted. I hope you will take the next few days with your families.’
The cook, a rounded woman with a soft face, shook her head. ‘Snow’s done for that, I’m afraid, sir. We’ll have to spend the holidays here.’
‘I’m so sorry for that. Then tomorrow, we’ll celebrate Christmas together and I’ll try to make up for your hardship.’
‘You are very kind, sir,’ the cook said, a shy smile on her face.
A male servant stepped forward, and lowered his tone. ‘Sir, I have placed a hot iron in the marital bed to warm the sheets.’
Flynn smiled at him. ‘That was very thoughtful.’ He winked at the servant, who hid a smile. Flynn gathered a tray of food and carried it into the living room where Rebekah was waiting. She had slipped out of her furs and was sitting in front of the fire, the flames lighting her beautiful face. She turned and smiled at him and he felt his stomach tighten and his cock thicken as it always did when he saw her. The way the fire shone in her dark eyes, the flush of her porcelain skin, the tumbling chestnut locks that she’d loosed and now hung in ringlets down to her waist. Flynn put the tray of food down between them then leaned over to kiss her.
‘Have I told you in the last hour how much I love you, Mrs. Abbott?’
She smiled delightedly. ‘You just did. Oh, Flynn, this is magical.’
‘It is, my love.’
They ate their fill, talking and at midnight, raised their champagne glasses and wished each other a Merry Christmas. Flynn grinned at the joy on his bride’s face.
‘Would you like your present now?’
She laughed, throwing her head back. ‘You know me too well, my love.’
Flynn retrieved his jacket and pulled from it a small black wooden box. ‘From me to you on our first Christmas as husband and wife.’
Her wide were wide as she opened the box. ‘Oh my goodness, Flynn…’ He laughed at her shocked face. Inside the box, a pendant, a single diamond the size of silver dollar hung from a delicate gold chain. Rebekah gaped at it, and then her husband. Flynn smiled and took it out of the box and draped it around her neck, fastening it at the nape of her neck. She touched the diamond at her throat.
‘I don’t know what to say…except thank you, of course.’ Tears were glistening in her eyes then she got slowly to her feet and held her hand out to him. ‘Actually…there is something I can do to show you how grateful I am.’
She led him up the stairs to their bedroom. A huge four-poster bed draped in mosquito netting stood in the middle of the chamber. A fire burned in the grate. Flynn pulled back the covers and carefully removed the hot iron.
‘It’s warm and comfortable.’
‘Flynn.’
He turned to find Rebekah, her wedding dress on the floor and her beautiful body naked, lit by the fire. He drew in a sharp breath. The diamond sparkled at her throat.
‘My god…’ He went to her and took her in his arms, his hands caressing her bare skin. ‘If there’s a more beautiful sight in this world, I’ll eat my hat, Mrs. Abbott.’
She pressed her lips to his, her fingers trembling as she unbuttoned his shirt. Flynn, kissing her deeply, helped her out and soon they were both naked. Rebekah looked down at his cock, standing proud and thick against his belly. ‘May I kiss it?’ She asked with a tremor in her voice and he nodded.
Shattered: A Billionaire Romance Series (Contemporary Romance Novels) Page 132
