TJ, still breathing hard, walked to the balcony and saw the gators gliding toward Morpheus, who was trying to swim to the shore, the knife still sticking out of his back.
When Morpheus saw the gators coming toward him, he took a deep breath and dived beneath the surface . . . and was gone, leaving only a blood-tinged ripple behind.
Once Sam and TJ got bandages wrapped around the worst of Albert’s wounds, Sam found a robe in Michael’s closet and slipped it on, covering her nakedness.
The three friends sat on the couch and tried to regain their breath, watching the two bodies on the floor to make sure they didn’t move.
TJ turned to Sam. “Are you all right?” she asked, smiling grimly.
Sam nodded, the skin of her face stretched tight against the pain she was still feeling. “I am now,” she said, though her eyes were clouded with agony.
Albert, one hand still holding together the edges of the gash in his right cheek, croaked, “TJ, after you call Shooter, would you get the gasoline from my car, please?”
Forty-five
A week later, after Sam, TJ, and Albert had started their treatments with the serum Dr. Wingate had sent, Shooter and Matt were called to Chief Boudreaux’s office for a conference.
They took seats across from his desk while he leaned back in his chair, staring at them through narrowed eyes. “Shooter,” he said, a slight grin on his lips, “I don’t know whether to kiss you or arrest you.”
Shooter looked at Matt and laughed. “Chief, I hope those aren’t my only two choices.”
“I wanted to give you both a follow-up on the situation, since what you’re going to read in the papers ain’t exactly the whole truth.”
“It never is in cases like this, Chief,” Shooter said.
“After you called and told us the story your source told you, we went to check out the addresses you gave us. The house in Oak Forest had burned to the ground, but we did find a female body inside, one that had its head cut off.”
Shooter didn’t reply, but just continued staring at Boudreaux.
“We also checked out the antique shop in the French Quarter, the one where you said your source, Carmilla de la Fontaine, lived. We found evidence of a murder, lots of blood but no body.”
Shooter looked at Matt. “Oh, no. The cult must have gotten to her,” he said, a look of sadness on his face.
“Speaking of this so-called cult, we did go to that cabin out on Bayou Road, and guess what we found?”
Both Shooter and Matt shook their heads. “I have no idea, Chief,” Shooter said. Matt remained quiet.
We found two more bodies, a male and a female, both burned beyond recognition and both with their heads cut off.”
“Jesus,” Shooter said, his face a mask of astonishment.
“Also, when our crime-scene guys checked out the bayou and surrounding area, we found piles of human bones and skulls around. They’d been chewed on by the gators in the area.”
“Gosh, Chief,” Shooter said. “Maybe that’s where all those missing people ended up.”
Boudreaux shook his head in disbelief. “As if you didn’t know!”
Shooter put on his most sincere face. “Chief, I told you before. Our contact, Carmilla de la Fontaine, told us that she was a member of a secret cult who believed they were vampires, and that they were responsible for all the killings and missing persons you’ve had lately. As soon as she told us this, we gave you all the information we had.”
“Yeah,” Boudreaux said. “I’ll bet.”
“What about the other guy whose name and address we gave you?” Matt asked. “Jean Horla?”
“That’s as strange as all the other bullshit you’ve been feeding me. When we went to pick him up, he did a rabbit on us; one of the SWAT guys swears he put a full clip into him at point-blank range. He says the guy never slowed down.”
“So you didn’t get him?” Shooter asked.
“No, and the computers tell us there is not, and never has been, anyone with that name anywhere in the county.”
“Jeez,” Shooter said, “imagine that.”
“The good news is,” Boudreaux added, “when we searched that house in the French Quarter where the man known as Jacques Chatdenuit lived, we found enough evidence from various victims stashed there to identify him as the Ripper.”
Shooter smiled and spread his hands. “Then I take it the case is closed?”
Boudreaux leaned forward, a half smile on his face. “Yeah, the case is closed. But, Shooter, the next time you and Matt want to take your girlfriends on a vacation, please pick another town!”
Six weeks later, they were all back at work in Houston. Sam and TJ were still undergoing treatments with the serum, and so far their blood remained clear of the Vampyre bug. Albert had written to say he seemed to be doing OK, too, and he hadn’t had a drop of human blood since the treatments began. He wrote further that it was worth giving up virtual immortality in order to be human once again.
* * *
One Saturday night, Matt was awakened by a phone call. He switched on the bedside lamp and picked up the phone. “Yes, Dr. Carter here,” he said, stifling a yawn.
Heavy breathing for a moment, and then a deep voice said, “Tell Sam I forgive her for betraying me. But it is not over. She is still my mate and one night I will come for her. Tell her to be ready!”
Matt slammed the phone down and looked over at Sam. She was smiling slightly in her sleep, and he noticed a trace of scarlet on her lips. Without thinking, he put his fingers to his neck. When he pulled them away, they were covered with blood.
Sam stirred beside him. When she opened her eyes, there was a glint of amusement; smiling up at him, she slowly licked his blood off her lips.
He opened his mouth to scream....
Look for
James M. Thompson’s
next vampire novel
Coming in July 2003
from Pinnacle Books!
Dark Blood Page 28
