Lilith did not want to watch her kill get fucked. But before she moved the man did something that sent Lilith into a blinding fury, he slapped the woman across the face and screamed, “Bitch,” at her. Lilith decided she would take them both, but she had a special treatment for him. Like lightning she struck. The mist of blood formed into two blades of red crystal and she struck downwards. One caught the man just under the sternum and she lifted him dangling him above the ground. He tried to scream, but she knew he could not pull in the air to do so. She did not want him dead just yet.
The girl screamed, only to be silenced by the blade as it cut upwards between her spread thighs, stopping at her heart. Lilith then made second stroke across the woman's breast and left the body lying in three pieces. As she looked down she smiled.
Then she turned back to the man and formed a mouth in her mist form whispering, “So you like being rough with women?"
He shook his head no, and as he did so her free arm shifted from the blade form into an arm with a hand whose fingers ended in five blades sharper than any surgeons’ scalpels. The fingers sliced through fabric and flesh as she deftly severed his cock and scrotum and lifted it up to his face. “Open wide!” She commanded with her Wampyr ability and against his own will his mouth opened. His eyes grew wide as she stuffed his mouth full.
Then she turned her arm that was still a blade in a perfect circle and pulled out a cylinder of his flesh that contained his heart. She watched his face go slack as he died. Now she was satiated. She looked up at the big clock upon a building nearby and saw that it was only a little past two in the morning. She would be back in plenty of time. So back to the shop she flew, returning to her prison until the night that the commission was completed and the time was right for Melanie's decision.
* * * *
The sun had risen and the clock had struck nine when Zachariah's trance finally broke. Lying within his hands was the complete gold-work of the tiara, gone was the Tree of Life. He rose and laid the tiara on a table to the side and lowered the heavy glass plate to the top of the stone table.
If this had been a normal commission, he would have covered the table with a cloth, then left the room and locked the door of the cabinet making any chance of an accidental discovery impossible, but this was not a normal commission. He still had one chance to return to this room with this commission. If Melanie said yes.
He turned back to the tiara and lifted it. Looking at it carefully he was amazed at the intricacies within it. All that was left was the placing of the gemstones and for that he usually did not have to enter a trance. As he turned the tiara around his eyes caught upon the jeweler's mark on the backside of the tiara, the mark of the Z. It resembled the one upon both the cabinet and the table. Each time he looked at the figure of the tree the sensual woman within the trunk enticed him to stare longer upon her. Zachariah had often wondered if the woman was supposed to be anyone in particular. She seemed to be familiar and at one time he thought she sort of resembled Lilith but it was not Lilith of that he was certain. As he turned the piece a beam of light hit the mark and it just for a brief moment appeared as if it filled with blood. It was for this unique trait of the mark that the shop had been named The Crimson Z.
He carried the tiara out into the main room and shut the cabinet behind him hiding the entry to the mystical room once again. For some reason he did not feel it safe to leave the tiara out of his sight so he carried it up to his apartment and laid it on the dresser beside his bed.
Melanie would be there in just a little over seven hours and he had not slept at all the entire night. He also knew from the silence that had met him when he had left the ritual room that Lilith was not in a good mood. As he walked past the mirror he did not even feel her icy fingers reach out to touch his mind and sense his thoughts and that was not a good sign at all. He knew it was best not to press the issue. For his own peace of mind and sanity it would be best to try to get what sleep he could for when he did finally have to deal with Lilith there would be hell to pay. Slowly he climbed the stairs for once he did feel every bit of the one hundred and ten years of his body's age. Working the magic drained a great deal from him. Sitting down on the edge of the bed was the last thing he remembered.
* * * *
"Papa Zach, Papa Zach!” He felt a nudge at his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Melanie holding the tiara in her hands; her eyes were wide and filled with tears.
"Papa Zach! Is this? Is? It can't be? You only showed me the design yesterday. Even had you been up all night no one could have made this in one night."
She leaned down and helped him up and then hugged him tight. This time when she kissed his lips he was not mistaken they definitely stayed there longer than was appropriate for a granddaughter and grandfather. His heart thundered tightly in his chest.
"Yes Melanie, that is it, and I told you that some of my items are magic."
"Papa Zach! I thought that magic stuff you have been telling me was just stories.” She danced about and then sat down beside him, hugging him tightly, “But for you to have made this in only one day the magic has to be real!"
"Sweetie, I was up all night. I did not get to bed until nine this morning."
Melanie frowned. “Well then, Papa Zach, you lay back down, and I am going to go make you a late breakfast and after you have eaten it then you can take it easy while I clean."
He smiled and then said, “I still have the gemstones to set."
"If you did the gold in one night, there are still four nights before the dance, you have plenty of time. So you can rest tonight. In fact, after you eat your meal just go back to sleep. No story tonight. You can tell me one tomorrow night."
"Okay, sweetheart, I definitely could use the sleep."
Melanie was true to her word. She made Papa Zach a hearty breakfast, but a healthy one, only one piece of bacon, toast, one egg, a slice of cantaloupe, and some orange juice, and then she tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and told him to go to sleep. He did not take much urging and quickly went to sleep.
While he slept she cleaned the place. Lilith watched her, memorizing her every move. When she took over her body she would have to fool Zach so she watched her every move and listened to every sound she made committing each movement and sound to her memory so that she would be able to draw upon them to fool Zachariah when the time came. Her only worry was that he would become wise to her plan beforehand and then she might have to kill him. That would be a shame for without him that stone was worthless. He was the only one that could use it. Of course without the stone he was nothing but food.
Melanie closed up and locked the shop at nine and went home. When she returned the next day Zachariah was still asleep and she knew the old man had to have worn himself out. She also knew it was not healthy to sleep the clock around so she went to wake him.
Carefully she nudged him, “Papa Zach!"
"Is it time for you to go home now? Do you need me to lock the door?"
Melanie almost giggled, “No Papa Zach that was yesterday. It is now four in the afternoon on Tuesday."
Zachariah sat up quickly for a man his age and looked at her with a look of wonder in his eyes. “Are you telling me I slept for over twenty four hours?"
"You sure did! I told you, you over did it, making that tiara in one night. Now you need to get up and stretch and then when you are done shaving and cleaning up I will fix you a meal. So come downstairs when you are done.” She leaned over and kissed his lips again, “Thank you again, my Papa Zach."
Zachariah smiled at her words and watched as she nearly danced out of his room. He heard her as she skipped down the stairs. Thirty minutes later he was sitting beside her enjoying the light dinner she had fixed them. Cucumber sandwiches, she had said. He had never eaten a sandwich without meat on it, but it was not bad.
After the meal she cleaned up and then began to put up the decorations as he began to set the stones. For the main stone he chose a sapphire the same color as her eyes. It wa
s an offset diamond cut, so it formed a cross with the way the facets were cut. It was also large, nearly as large as his thumb. To each side of it and on the lower base was a ruby, round cut and a little larger than a standard dress shirt button. The remainder of the stones were twenty eight diamonds, ranging from one quarter carat to one carat in size for a total weight of twelve carats. Zachariah knew that there could not be a price set on the piece. If it were appraised it would bring a value of well over a million dollars. However all the kids at her school would think the stones were fake or rhinestones. Only Melanie and he would know the truth. He would not finish setting the stones in one night, but it would be done in plenty of time for her dance.
At about eight Melanie came in and sat down beside him as he was finishing setting the two rubies. She smiled at him and he returned her smile and for many moments they stared at each other in silence before she finally broke the silence by saying, “Well Papa Zach, I do not regret missing my story yesterday, but I do have to say I have been dying all day to hear one today. So can I go pick a piece from the cabinet?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
With the exuberance that only youth has she leapt from her seat and bounded to the cabinet. Opening the doors she looked at all the pieces and her hand started toward one piece and then another and then shifted to another then suddenly darted and she chose one. She carried it over to him and in his hands laid a pendant with three interwoven triangles upon the face of it.
The old man smiled, “This is an amazing tale. Not only in the story but in how it came to return to me."
"Let me tell you a true ghost story, but not your ordinary ghost story. For this is one ghost that had a lust for life, and that lust did not pass away when she did, she was able to find a way to fulfill her lust even after death."
Incorrigible
A Novella by Abby Blythe
Incorrigible
Chapter One
"Can you believe this place? It's amazing, and it's all yours."
Anne Kemper nodded in agreement then sank onto one end of the sofa. She surveyed the handful of boxes scattered on the hardwood floor of the bare living room. Dust-coated windows diffused the sunlight spilling into the room and softened the grime years had layered on every surface.
"I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop.” She ran her fingers through her loose sable curls then rested her elbow on the threadbare arm of the sofa. If it was possible, things were going too well. “There has to be some reason this place was so cheap."
"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. You were lucky. Period. End of story.” Debra Armstrong, her best friend, sat on the arm of the sofa and brushed her corkscrew, dark brown curls away from her face.
"Lucky.” The word slid slowly through her lips as if she was testing the sound of it. A distant relative leaving her a small fortune was lucky, finding this lovely home, a Victorian cottage in an upscale neighborhood, just seemed too good to be true.
"And if I'm going to get lucky, I have to head out right now.” Deb grinned and stood up. She picked up her purse from the top of one of the piles of boxes and started toward the door. “Are you sure you don't want to come? We're going to the Chrysalis."
"Not tonight.” Anne only knew the member's only club via its reputation for being the hottest spot in the city, but she didn't feel like venturing into a world where culinary delights weren't the only offerings on the menu.
Deb crossed her arms, impaling her with a look that could only mean well-intentioned advice was about to be delivered. “Look, Mark's been out of your life for almost three months. It's time to plunge back into the singles’ scene."
"You're right ... but not tonight. I have too much to do.” That was her defense, and she was sticking to it. Anne pushed off the couch, hoping to signal an end to the conversation. She walked beside her closest friend toward a wide archway leading to a spacious tiled foyer. The soft pat of her sneakers echoed off the bare walls. “This place might have been a steal, but it still needs a lot of elbow grease to make it habitable. There's no way I'm celebrating until the kitchen has been disinfected."
"If a little dirt is the only thing keeping you at home, then I'll be over tomorrow morning to help you clean.” Deb laughed softly. “Make that the afternoon. Trust me, a few good lays, and Mark will be a hiccup in your past."
In spite of the knot twisting in her stomach, Anne smiled. Deb's answer to most of life's problems was sex—the hotter and the more frequent the better.
"Girlfriend, you're far too young to be celibate,” Deb said as she grasped the ridged glass doorknob. “He did you a favor moving on."
It hadn't felt like a favor at the time. Hell, it still didn't, but at least the sound of his name didn't hit her in the gut like a sucker punch any more. Like clichéd dialogue in a two-bit movie, he'd said he still cared for her and wanted to be friends, but sex with her was too tame, and he needed more. He explained that he'd been patient at first because she was a virgin, but he'd thought things would heat up after they moved in together, and it hadn't. So, for the sake of their friendship, he felt it would be better if they moved on. Anne cringed mentally. She might have believed him if he hadn't move right into the bed of a hot little number who had recently joined his firm.
"Anne, if you change your mind ... give me a ring on my cell. I'll meet you at the door."
"Thanks, but don't hold your breath.” Anne gave her a tight hug, warmed by her friend's unfailing loyalty and friendship.
"Ciao, sweetie!” Deb strode across the threshold and onto the covered veranda, lifting her hand in a farewell salute.
Anne stood in the doorway and watched her friend's silver, imported sedan, back out of the driveway and start down the quiet, tree-lined street. She grasped the edge of the door, about to close it, when a prickle across the nape of her neck brought her gaze around. Following the uneasy feeling, she looked into the narrow-eyed stare of a woman peering at her from an Adirondack chair on a wide covered veranda like her own. Wings of white encroached on the auburn waves framing her scowling face.
With a tentative smile on her lips, Anne lifted her hand and offered a silent greeting. The scowling woman lifted her chin, pushed herself out of her chair and stomped toward her front door. A shiver slid down Anne's spine at the unexpected display of hostility.
"What's her problem?” Anne muttered as she shut the door. “I only moved in this morning ... hardly long enough to offend someone."
Shrugging off thoughts about her prickly neighbor, Anne walked down the short corridor to the kitchen. Her home was a puzzling assortment of old and new. The layers of dust on every flat surface confirmed the fact that the home had been vacant for decades. Yet, according to the real estate agent, it had been maintained with regular upgrades to electrical, plumbing and other structural features as if the previous owner, a globetrotting spinster, would arrive at any time. But, she never had. Instead, she put the lovely Victorian cottage on the market.
Anne walked over to the sink where she'd left the bucket and several bottles of cleanser. Nothing was going in those cupboards until she'd scrubbed them.
* * * *
Four hours later, she stepped out of the shower and toweled down. Every muscle complained about the cleaning marathon, but she didn't care. The kitchen shone, and the empty dining room, her future workshop, glowed from amply applied elbow grease.
Tomorrow, she would start setting up her workshop in the spacious dining room. Large windows in the spacious room supplied ample natural light for her to work on her sculptures. As she hung her towel over the rack, she once again thanked the childless, great-aunt who had left her enough money so that she could quit her day job at the art shop and focus on her own art.
Though tired when she emerged from the bathroom, a growing sense of restlessness drew her across the room. She followed a luminescent ribbon of moonlight that trailed across the hardwood floor. Anne pulled the belt of her terry robe tight around her waist and stopped in front of the window to draw
the curtains. Her mules scuffed softly against the polished surface, the sound eerily loud in the silent room. For all the physical exertion, going to bed would be a waste of time because she certainly wouldn't sleep for quite some time.
As she reached up to catch the curtain in her hand, she glanced toward the house next door, hoping to catch a peek of her hunky neighbor, Sam Decker. He was a masterpiece created by the tempter's own hand—tall, blond, and muscular.
From a brief exchange over the fence earlier that day, she knew his eyes were just the color of the sky on a summer morning. Unlike the disapproving, older neighbor, she and Sam had chatted amicably over the fence for a few minutes until the moving truck had arrived with her meager collection of boxes and furniture and ending their conversation.
Captured by the sight of Sam's silhouette in his bedroom window, she let her hand drop to her side. Anne sank onto the deep window seat and watched as a woman joined him, their forms framed by the window, their outlines softened by a sheer curtain.
Anne peeked over the pillows covering the back of the deep window seat. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in her role as voyeur. Intrigued, she watched as Sam placed his hands on the woman's waist. In a leisurely gesture, he drew her against his body. His lady friend tilted her head to one side, and he nuzzled her neck.
Anne placed her hand on the same spot on her neck, wondering what it would be like to feel his lips against her skin. The thought took her by surprise. After her experience with Mark, she'd assumed she had a void where a sex drive should have been.
Sam pulled his companion's top over her head then tossed it aside. The lucky lady turned in his arms and started unbuttoning his shirt. Anne held her breath as his partner slid her hands up his chest then pushed the garment off his shoulders in a deliberately sensual movement. Her hands slid down his arms, pushing his shirt ahead of them until it dropped to the floor. Then, the woman drew his head down, and they kissed. Anne drew a fingertip across her lips, wondering what it must have felt like to feel his lips against her and his bare, muscled chest pressed against her body.
The Crimson Z Page 21
