“So you think we will all be in danger if we continue to work on reversing TJ’s Transformation?” Sam asked.
“Only if other Vampyres find out about it.”
“Oh, no,” TJ said softly.
“What is it?” Albert asked.
She told him about her conversation with Carmilla. “But she seemed most supportive of our efforts,” TJ added.
Albert nodded grimly. “She may be,” he said, “but there is no telling how the others on her Council will feel.”
He picked up his brandy and drank as he considered what she’d told him. Finally, he set the glass back down. “We have no choice,” he said. “As far as I know, the other Vampyres here don’t know where I live or work. If you elect to continue with this, you’ll have to go underground and stay out of sight. Your very lives depend on it.”
“Speaking of our lives,” Shooter said grimly, “there’s a question we have to ask you before we agree to work with you.”
“Yes?” Albert asked.
“Are you the one the newspapers call the Ripper?”
Albert’s face clouded. “No, I am not the Ripper. In fact, I almost succeeded in killing him the other night.”
“That was you the police chased?” Matt asked. “The one with the sword and gasoline?”
“Yes, that was I. I’ve been tracking the Ripper for some weeks now and I almost ended his reign of terror the other night.” He held up his hand. “Not out of any altruistic motives, but because his wanton killings bring danger to all of my race.”
“So,” TJ said hesitantly, “you haven’t been . . .”
Albert stared into her eyes. “I give you my word, TJ. I have not hunted or taken a life since leaving Houston,” he said, not mentioning the two boys he’d killed in self-defense. “In fact, I’ve found a way to feed that doesn’t entail killing of any sort.”
He added—mentally so only she could hear him—“And I’ve not been with another woman since you, dear.”
He turned to the others. “Now you must disappear. Unfortunately, my place is too small to accommodate all of you. However, there is a furnished two-bedroom apartment near mine that is for rent. I suggest you let me rent it, using cash so there will be no record of your names on the lease, and you can move in there tomorrow. Once you’re settled in, we can begin to work on helping TJ.”
They looked at each other, each wondering if they could trust this man who was an admitted killer of hundreds.
After a moment, TJ nodded and took Shooter’s hand in hers.
Albert noticed the gesture, but didn’t comment on it. “All right, then, it’s settled.” He wrote the address down on a napkin and handed it to TJ. “I’ll make the arrangements first thing in the morning. You’ll be able to move in after lunch.”
Twenty-nine
The same night TJ and her friends were meeting with Albert Nachtman, Michael Morpheus set up a meeting at his bayou house with a couple of the Council members who’d proved receptive to his suggestion they try a new experience in hunting.
Sarah Kenyon’s mate, Adeline Ducayne, who was at first very jealous at the thought her lover had hunted and fed without her, readily agreed to savor the thrill of a double hunt with her friend at Michael’s house.
Louis Frene was also receptive, but the others Michael approached begged off, stating they agreed with Carmilla that nonlethal feedings were the best for their race. Michael did extract a promise from them not to notify Carmilla of his offer, though it was clear they were opposed to his intention to hunt and feed as it had been done in the past.
Michael, this time with Sarah and Jean’s help, secured several suitable candidates for the evening’s festivities from the nearby rural town of Liberty. Jean even laughed that they were doing something the police had been unable, or unwilling, to do: rid the town of most of its prostitutes and deadbeats.
As per his usual protocol for these gatherings, Michael provided wine for everyone to enjoy prior to their feeding. Louis appeared nervous as he helped himself to a generous portion of the wine. Red-tinged sweat was beaded on his brow, even though the evening was cool and there was a breeze blowing off the nearby bayou that smelled of dead fish and rotting vegetation. He glanced around at the others gathered in Michael’s living room. “It’s been so long; I don’t know if I’ll remember what to do,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
“Oh,” Sarah said with an evil laugh, “you’ll remember all right.”
“Yeah,” Jean joined in, holding his glass up as if in a toast, “it’s like riding a bicycle. Once you get back in the saddle, it’ll all come back to you.”
Michael, knowing how Sarah preferred innocent young girls, had stopped the previous day and picked up a teenage hitchhiker on her way to New Orleans from Baton Rouge. He held up a key with 1 on it. “Sarah, I understand you and Adeline wish to dine together tonight. Your feast awaits you behind door number one.”
Sarah put her wineglass down and took the key. She put her arm around the diminutive Adeline’s shoulders and they marched down the hall toward the first door.
As she opened the door and they stepped through, a young girl rushed at them with a wooden chair over her head. Adeline ducked and tried to cover her head with her arms as the girl swung with all her might.
The chair crashed down on Adeline, knocking her to the ground before Sarah could respond. The girl bent and picked up one of the chair legs lying on the floor; brandishing it like a baseball bat, she circled around the fallen Adeline toward the door.
Sarah grinned maliciously and crouched, her arms spread out before her as she moved to cut the girl off from escape. “Now, dear,” she said in her husky voice, “why’d you go and do a nasty thing like that?”
The frightened prisoner turned her eyes to Adeline, who was shaking her head and getting to her feet, a large gash on her forehead already beginning to heal and knit together.
“All I know is a horrible man kidnapped me and has been holding me prisoner here for two days,” the girl said in a scared, shaky voice. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I want out of here now.”
Sarah straightened up and smiled, holding her hands out palmside up. “But, my dear,” she said in her most sugar-sweet voice, “that’s what Adeline and I were coming to tell you. We’ve convinced the man who took you to let you go.”
“Really?” the girl asked, lowering the chair leg and trying to smile.
Sarah nodded. “Yes, of course. It was all a mistake. He thought you were someone else.”
“Oh, thank God!” The girl stepped back to sit on the edge of the bed.
Sarah stepped over to Adeline and smoothed her hair and kissed her on the cheek. “Are you all right, darling?” she asked.
When Adeline nodded, the girl on the bed asked, “Say, you two aren’t dykes, are you?”
Sarah’s smile turned into a frown. “We prefer the term life partner, dear.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Oh.”
“What is your name, sweetie?” Adeline asked, moving slowly toward the girl.
“Lou Ann, Lou Ann Cargill,” the girl replied, shrinking back at Adeline’s approach.
When Adeline sat on the bed next to Lou Ann and reached over to comb her fingers through her hair, the hitchhiker jerked her head away. “Listen, you need to know. I don’t swing that way. I prefer boys.”
“Why, Lou Ann,” Sarah asked, her voice again sweet and syrupy, “what makes you think we care what you prefer?”
“Huh?”
Sarah swung a backhand blow to Lou Ann’s cheekbone, knocking her flat on her back on the bed. Adeline quickly leaned over and grasped Lou Ann’s shirt in both her hands and ripped it off her body, pulling her bra with it.
Sarah, at almost the same time, bent over and grasped Lou Ann’s blue jeans; with a tremendous tug, she jerked them down and off her legs.
As Lou Ann struggled to get up, Adeline placed her arm across her neck and pinned her to the bed while she reached down and stuck her left hand into L
ou Ann’s panties.
When Lou Ann tried to kick her away, Sarah stepped between her legs and wrapped her hands around her thighs, holding them apart.
Adeline’s hand was busy. She inserted her middle finger into Lou Ann and began to waggle it around while she lowered her head to the girl’s breast and sucked gently on her nipple.
“I want to see,” Sarah growled in a husky voice.
“Certainly, darling,” Adeline replied, and moved her hand forcefully enough to tear the panties off. When she began to fondle and rub Lou Ann’s sex again, she asked, “There, is that better?”
Sarah, consumed now by lust, only grunted as she began to change, her eyes fixed on what Adeline’s finger was doing to Lou Ann.
“Good,” Adeline said, and resumed her sucking on Lou Ann’s breast, though not so gently this time. Lou Ann, after a moment, ceased struggling and began to moan softly under the ministrations of Adeline’s hand and tongue. When Sarah saw her begin to move her pelvis against Adeline’s hand in rhythm with her stroking, she let go of her legs and stepped back and quickly got out of her clothes.
Naked, with her hands becoming claws and fangs protruding from her lips, she got down on her knees between Lou Ann’s legs and gently moved Adeline’s hand, replacing it with her mouth.
Adeline stood up and got out of her clothes and then moved to the other side of the bed and stood straddling Lou Ann’s face.
She slowly lowered herself until Lou Ann’s lips were on her and then she leaned forward to grasp both her breasts and fasten her lips on Lou Ann’s left nipple.
The two women worked on Lou Ann until she was writhing in pleasure on the bed, her pelvis bucking against Sarah’s mouth while her lips and tongue moved hungrily on Adeline’s groin.
Sarah looked up and caught Adeline’s eyes as she moved one claw from Lou Ann’s buttocks to grab and hold Adeline’s breast.
Adeline moaned and grunted in pleasure as both Lou Ann and Sarah fondled her. Minutes later, she climaxed with a howl and grabbed Sarah’s head in her hands and pulled her up to kiss her deeply.
While they were kissing, Sarah let her hand fall back down on Lou Ann’s groin and continued to fondle and caress her there until she, too, screamed in final release.
Sarah pulled her head back and stared into Adeline’s eyes. “Are you ready, my darling?”
“Oh, yes!” Adeline said, and her features began to melt and coalesce into a fearsome beast.
Sarah lay on Lou Ann’s right while Adeline lay on her left. As their fangs ripped into Lou Ann’s neck from both sides, their hands reached across her bucking, jumping body to continue to fondle each other as they fed.
In the living room, Michael and the others grinned at the sounds coming from room 1. He tossed a key with 2 on it to Louis. “Looks like you’re up, Louis,” he said.
Louis grabbed the key out of the air and entered room 2. He found a white woman dressed in a skimpy halter top and skintight jean cutoffs sitting on the edge of the bed smoking a cigarette. Her hair was tinted a garish orange color and she looked like a poster girl for trailer trash.
“Look, buster,” she snapped as she angrily stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray next to the bed. “I was brought here yesterday with the promise of earning some good money. What the hell’s goin’ on?”
Louis, who was short, pudgy, and pale, looked like a mild-mannered accountant; he began to undress. “I need you to do something special for me,” he said in a meek voice, his eyes not meeting hers.
She raised her eyebrows and sneered. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes,” Louis replied, pulling a wide leather belt from his trousers and handing it to her as he stood naked before her.
“Oh,” she said, nodding. “You’re one of those, huh?”
“I need to be punished,” Louis answered in a low, embarrassed voice, his head hanging down.
“Listen, sweetie, if you need me to beat you to get that”—her eyes dropped to his small penis hanging flaccidly between his legs—“worm to stand at attention, then I’ll do it. But it’s gonna cost you two hundred.”
“I’ll pay anything,” Louis said.
The woman stood up and removed her clothes under Louis’s watchful eyes. When she was nude, there was still no response from his penis.
She stepped up to him, raised her hand, and began to beat him fiercely about the shoulders and chest with the belt. He leaned his head back and grinned as red whelps appeared on his pasty flesh.
“Oh, yes, do it harder,” he begged.
Her eyes widened and she whispered, “Jesus,” but she continued to beat him over and over again with the belt.
After a moment, she saw his penis begin to stir, slowly becoming erect.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said through clenched teeth, her body becoming covered with sweat with the exertion of whipping him.
Suddenly his fat, pale body began to grow and change; the prostitute stepped back, her mouth hanging open as his face melted and began to rearrange itself while his penis grew to an unbelievable size and width.
“Oh, my God!” she screamed as his fangs protruded, his eyes became red and bloodshot, and his claws began to flex.
“No . . . no . . . ,” she begged, dropping the belt and inching backward until the back of her legs hit the bed.
Louis, now a towering monster, growled deep in his throat; he caressed his enormous penis with one claw as he moved toward her. Before she could cry out, he was on her, pressing her back onto the bed and spreading her legs with his knees until the head of his penis was directly in front of her groin.
With one lunge, he was embedded in her, splitting her wide open below as his fangs fastened themselves onto her neck. He bucked and pumped frantically, sucking her life out of her until she was limp as a rag doll.
Michael and Jean had stepped out on the porch overlooking the bayou to finish their wine. As Michael leaned on the railing overlooking the slowly swirling black waters of the stream, several shapes moved from the banks to swim languidly toward the house.
“I see my friends are eagerly awaiting their meal,” he said with a chuckle.
Jean shuddered. “Don’t they ever get their fill?” he asked, taking a large drink of his wine.
“No more than we do, Jean. I’m afraid their hunger for meat matches ours for blood.” He paused, cocking his head to the side and listening to the muted screams coming from the two bedrooms inside the house. “And I suppose they look forward to a good hunt just as much as we do.”
Michael finished his wine and set the glass down. He looked at Jean Horla. “Jean, my friend, I’m afraid pickings were slim in Liberty yesterday. I was only able to get one more subject to accompany me here tonight.”
“Oh?” Jean asked, draining his wineglass, his eyes locked on the reptiles swimming below them.
“Yes. I’m afraid we’re going to have to share.”
Jean smiled and shrugged. “Well, what are friends for, if not to share in life’s little bounties?” he asked as they moved toward room 3.
Thirty
After their meeting with Albert Nachtman, the two couples returned to their hotel. They were all in a subdued mood, wondering if they were right to trust Nachtman and if it was wise to put their lives in his hands.
As they approached their rooms, Matt hesitated with his key in his hand. “You guys want to talk about this tonight?” he asked, looking at TJ and Shooter.
TJ shook her head. Her face was pale and she had an almost vacant expression in her eyes, as if she were somewhere far off. “No,” she answered, finally coming out of her reverie and focusing on Matt. “Let’s all sleep on it and go over our options in the morning over breakfast.”
Matt shrugged. “All right. See y’all later.”
Shooter opened the door and followed TJ into their room. He emptied his pockets onto the dresser and began to undress while TJ slipped out of her dress in front of the closet.
“You OK, babe?” he asked.
&nbs
p; She turned to him, wearing only her bra and panties. “I don’t know, Shooter. Somehow I feel dirty . . . unclean.”
He nodded. “I know. Meeting with someone like Nachtman does that to you.”
He moved to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Sometimes, after I’ve interrogated a suspect that I know has done terrible things, I have this urge to take a long, hot bath and get the filth off me.”
She leaned her head back and smiled wanly at him. “Well, that sounds like a good idea to me.”
He glanced toward the bathroom. “You think we’d both fit in that tub?”
She shrugged. “I think we can manage,” she said, stepping back and unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. She stepped out of her panties and moved back into Shooter’s arms. “Come on, sweetheart, we need to talk.”
By the time Shooter had the lights off in the bedroom and got into the bathroom, TJ had steaming hot water filling the tub and was pouring some bubble bath into the water. She glanced over her shoulder. “I picked this up yesterday in the gift shop downstairs. It’s vanilla bean.”
Shooter grinned, admiring his view of her bending over the tub. “I love the smell of vanilla.”
She looked down at his naked body and what was happening to him. Laughing, she replied, “I notice it’s having quite an effect on you.”
“It’s not the bubble bath that’s doing this to me, babe—it’s you.”
She took his hand and they stepped into the steamy hot water. Shooter sat down and leaned back with TJ, between his legs, facing away and resting against his chest.
His arms automatically circled her and he cupped her breasts as they talked; fragrant bubbles rose to cover their legs.
After a moment, Shooter spoke softly. “TJ, I need to know how you feel about Nachtman. Is it going to be a problem being around him while we try to find a cure for you?”
Dark Blood Page 18
