Prince of Luster

by Candace Sams

  Candace Sams (aka C.S. Chatterly) graduated from Texas A&M University with a BS in Agriculture, worked as a police officer with the State of Texas, did a brief stint with the Texas Department of Public Safety Undercover Narcotics Task force, and was also with the San Diego Police Department. She taught for the San Diego County Sheriff's Department and worked in law enforcement in Alabama.

  She currently trains as the senior woman on the US Kung Fu Team (working on her fourth black belt), and has been awarded the Medal of Putien from China and the Statue of Tao for her work in martial arts. She is the holder of several international martial arts titles. In 2000, she was one of a fifteen-member team—authorized by act of Senate—to represent this country as a martial arts ambassador to mainland China. Her experiences in law enforcement and martial arts (Shaolin Kung Fu) are frequently used in her career as an author—she is known for writing fight scenes into her fictional works. As an added note, Ms. Sams is also a Master Gardener and loves working outdoors.

  After publishing more than sixty titles in the fantasy, science fiction, paranormal, and action-adventure genres, she’s received more than thirty awards from various organizations, including five National Readers’ Choice Awards and a USA Today Best Book nomination. Her Tales of The Order™ series, as well as several other works, are now being vetted for movie options.

  Hailing from Texas, Candace loves the country life. She and her husband of more than twenty-five years live in a rural area of the US. A plethora of dogs and cats have adopted them. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted through her website at www.candacesams.com. Candace also writes erotica as C.S. Chatterly and can be contacted from www.cschatterly.com.

  More from This Author

  (From Starlaw by Candace Sams)

  “Christ … it’s frickin’ eerie out here,” Cory Martinez whispered.

  “And colder than it was supposed to be,” Laurel Blake added.

  Along with what was normally on their belts, such as side arms, flashlights, extra ammo, and handcuffs, they had special radio equipment that only allowed certain shift members—including the dispatch supervisor—to hear what was going on. Besides all that, she and Cory were dressed in navy-blue jumpsuits with matching PD jackets and baseball caps. They’d added black gloves and combat boots to easily move through the park undergrowth. At the moment, their radios were silent, indicating the undercover detective pretending to be asleep in a clearing was all right so far. He was posing as a homeless man in order catch someone who’d been murdering them and literally draining their blood for the past three weeks.

  “So where’s the bachelorette party?” Cory asked as he nudged her.

  “Why the hell are you asking about that? Pay attention, butt-munch!”

  Cory grinned and ignored the reprimand. “Come on. Maria won’t tell me.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t want you to know.”

  “But you’ll tell your partner, right?” Cory prompted as he nudged her several more times.

  Laurel pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “I might be your partner but I’m her best friend and the maid of honor. And she asked me to keep my big mouth shut. So chew on that and keep your mind on the job.”

  “That’s not fair. You guys know where I’m having my bachelor party—”

  “That’s because there’s not a single man at the station who could keep his lips zipped. I swear … when it comes to gossip male cops are worse than any woman I’ve ever known.”

  “Laurel—”

  “No! Shut up and pay attention.”

  She saw his scowl even in the dim light filtering through the trees.

  “She didn’t hire those male strippers, did she? You know … the ones who jerk their junk while movin’ around in skimpy costumes and letting women stuff twenties down their G-strings?”

  She simply smiled back, deciding to let him sweat the answer.

  “Oh man … that’s not right!” he groused.

  “What’s not right? The overstuffed G-strings, or a lot of turned-on women having a good time while tossing back enough tequila to go toxic?” she teased.

  He moved closer. “Did you say tequila? Maria gets crazy when she drinks tequila. She gets horny as hell and doesn’t remember anything—”

  “Okay … that’s enough information,” Laurel advised as she held up one hand to stop him. “You need to talk to her, not me. And we need to keep our mouths shut … really,” she insisted as she pulled the collar of her jacket higher.

  They sat in mutual silence for another fifteen minutes. Cory finally broke it again with more commiserations concerning his upcoming nuptials.

  “I hate the invitations. They suck.”

  “Then why didn’t you help her pick ’em out?”

  “I did. Her mother overrode my opinion. She wanted red roses all over everything. I can’t stand red roses.”

  Laurel finally turned to look at him. “What in hell did you choose?”

  He grinned. “Daisies.”

  She pressed her lips together. “In all the years we’ve known each other … I’ve never thought of you as a daisy kind of guy.”

  “Everybody does roses. I read in Weddings Today magazine that it’s the most used flower in the world where weddings are concerned. I wanted something bright. Something uncommon. Something yellow and ‘camera friendly in darkened churches,’ like the magazine says.”

  “Which is why your wedding colors are burgundy and black,” she responded while shaking her head in mirth.

  The idea of Cory perusing a wedding magazine was too much. But he was all about marrying the girl he’d loved since high school. In the end it wouldn’t matter how he got Maria down the aisle as long as he got her there.

  “My future mother-in-law took every opinion I had and tossed it right in the crapper, like my ideas don’t matter.” He snorted in derision then let out a few curses in Spanish. “She and I are gonna have a long talk after the wedding. There’s not gonna be any of that shit where she tells us how to live our lives, what to name our kids, and how to decorate our house.”

  “Says the man who likes daisies.”

  “Excuse me … daisies symbolize love, patience, purity, and simplicity. They’re perfect for weddings,” he insisted.

  A scrambled message over their earpieces made them both sit up at the same time.

  “Did you make that out?” he asked as he gently tapped his earpiece.

  “Say again,” Laurel requested as she keyed the microphone hanging from her jacket epaulet.

  There was no sound.

  Cory made a second attempt. “210 Adam from 115 King … say again … over.”

  “For the love of God … help.”

  Laurel and Cory stared at each other when the clear but panic-stricken voice of one of their comrades sounded through their earpieces.

  Without waiting one second longer, Laurel relayed their need for backup as she stood and ran to their comrade’s aid.

  As she bolted forward, she put her hand on her weapon and mentally plotted the shortest distance between their spot and the assigned location of the caller.

  Cory pounded through the brush behind her. She knew he had her back as she picked up the pace.

  Through her earpiece, she heard orders being issued from the nearest officers including the dispatch supervisor. It didn’t matter if the perp heard them coming now. If a cop was in need, scaring away an attacker might save a life.

  Tonight’s assignment should have been simple.

  Moments later they crashed through the undergrowth into a nearby clearing.

  Laurel stopped in her tracks as she saw a tall figure straighten. He’d been bending over someone lying on the ground.

  The light wasn’t that good but she knew damned well the man in the dirt was one of theirs. The old, patched clothing was the same as what he’d been wearing when tonight’s assignment had been issued.

  She pulled her weapon at the same time Cory did. Despite the cold of t
he night and the breeze blowing through the trees, sweat broke out on her forehead.

  “Police! Put your hands on your head. Interlace your fingers and don’t move,” she loudly ordered as Cory repeated the message in Spanish.

  The language repetition was something they did any time there was a chance for misunderstanding. It wasn’t required by standard operating procedure, but it’d saved them a lot of trouble on numerous occasions. She simply waited to see if the man in front of them would comply whether he understood in English or Spanish. Her concern was less for his safety, more about the downed cop’s injuries.

  When the stranger slowly did as she ordered while turning toward them, Cory switched on his flashlight. Laurel gasped and felt her pounding heart lurch. Both of them backed away as Cory spit out a low, feral curse.

  The illuminated figure before them was the most grotesque thing she’d ever seen. As Cory’s flashlight kept their suspect clearly visible, the man gazing at them then presented a fanged grin. Blood dripped from his mouth as if he’d just cannibalized something. His face bore an unholy resemblance to a movie vampire. His body and even his skull seemed emaciated beyond explanation. There was no reason for how anyone could survive and look so horribly gaunt. His angular face personified evil. There was a wickedly hollow gleam spilling from his eyes. But if the man was insane and an escapee from some facility, he was at least cogent enough to know he’d be shot if he moved. He glared back at her and her blood almost ran cold. The savagery in his expression was palpable and the long, leather-looking duster he wore augmented his thin, tall appearance. Her brain reasoned he couldn’t possibly look as bad in daylight.

  From the full moon now gleaming through the clearing as clouds moved away, as well as the glow from the flashlight Cory held, their suspect’s appearance looked damned hideous.

  Cory slowly moved forward. “Watch this son-of-a-bitch!” he commanded. “I’ve gotta check Mac.”

  Laurel swallowed hard and tried not to gaze right in their suspect’s eyes. Her training made her pivot to keep Cory out of her line of fire. That same training kept her rooted to the spot when her gut told her to run away.

  “All right … Batman … or whoever the hell you are … if you move, one of us is gonna put a hole in you as big as a fuckin’ house!” Cory tersely promised as he carefully moved toward the downed undercover officer.

  Laurel noted there was no repetition in any second language this time. As with her, Cory’s concern was for the undercover cop on the ground, not on the ghastly suspect and certainly not on using proper language when addressing what might very well be their killer.

  She was aware of her partner kneeling but she still kept her attention on the monstrosity in front of her. What he was, why he looked the way he did, or whether this was the same murderer they’d been looking for wasn’t as important as Mac’s safety.

  “Christ! He’s dead. His throat is torn out!”

  Other officers burst into the clearing.

  Laurel heard them drawing weapons and letting loose a barrage of questions Cory tried to answer. Still, her attention was fixed on the horrible sight of what had to be a nightmare torn from her brain, a man with blood dripping from his jaws and down his pale neck.

  He stared back and she actually started to shake. The voices of those around her dimmed as the suspect grinned sickeningly. She heard the rattle of handcuffs.

  She and Cory had only been there a few seconds before help arrived but it seemed like hours. Their suspect’s hands were still on his head but she saw his gaze shift. Before she could utter the warning instinct pulled from her gut, the corpse-like entity moved and was suddenly no longer there.

  Shouts rang out as others tried to train their lights on the man, relocate and then subdue him. She knew it was too late. Terror filled her and almost cut off her air. She lifted the muzzle of her weapon, unable to fire in the ensuing mêlée. Fear she’d strike a comrade made her freeze.

  In a split second that reminded her of an old movie reel, the perpetrator seemed to materialize and run from one side of the clearing to the other. Something shiny came from beneath his flying leather duster. Whatever the object was, it emitted a light beam and a high-pitched, vibrating sound.

  The beam shot forward in a straight stream and struck Cory first. She saw his flashlight fly out of his hand and roll away.

  More shouts and cries broke what should have been the calm of the midnight air. She finally responded. Nothing she did was fast enough. Nothing anyone did kept the wraith-like being from moving at a speed defying explanation.

  Cory’s body hit the dirt.

  Two detectives tried to jump the suspect but they had no better chance than her partner. They were struck by the suspect’s strange beam weapon and both slumped to the ground. Random shots were fired. She knew triggers were being pulled in panic. Logic was lost on the scene as she followed her compatriots’ example and shot at the empty space left by the fast-moving suspect. She heard dull thuds as the bullets of other officers hit the man but nothing slowed him down.

  Three other detectives fell near Cory. Her distress on their behalf was almost overwhelming. This was what it felt like to face death. She was next.

  In the matter of a few seconds—in a scenario playing out in light speed—no one stood but the attacker and her. At least one cop was dead, according to Cory’s shouted description.

  “Stay back!” she yelled and knew the warning would do her no good, even as she made it. Her brain, body, and emotions were reacting to training. There wasn’t anything left from which to draw. Nothing they’d fired slowed the monstrosity down. And when a person could move at some unholy, inhuman pace, and take a shitload of bullets while putting an entire undercover operation on the ground, he didn’t have to follow her commands or anyone else’s.

  It suddenly occurred to her they’d been set up. The thing with her waited until every cop in the vicinity was there.

  The dispatch supervisor had to have sent backup but all the yelling and shooting had kept her from hearing what happened through her earpiece. Surely there’d be sirens any moment. But passing seconds seemed like an eternity as their attacker slowly advanced.

  “I will feast well tonight,” the gruesome entity rasped out in a grinding, hissing voice.

  Laurel swallowed hard.

  She opened her mouth to warn him again, as her index finger felt the cold metal of her trigger. There was only one way she’d get out of this.

  Warnings had done no good. Following the rules hadn’t made a difference. She had no idea who on the ground might be unconscious or dead. And she desperately wanted to live.

  “Fuck it!” she whispered as she emptied what was left of her ammo into the tall man.

  When he kept strolling forward, grinning as her efforts were a game, she knew all her childhood nightmares concerning Halloween-like creatures were real. There really were things in the night that couldn’t be stopped by the best weapons available. There really were otherworldly creatures.

  He stopped only a few feet away, seemingly savoring his victory. His glowing eyes looked her over, assessing her. The brightness of them was terrible and menacing. This monstrosity had no fear of anything. If she ran, he’d drop her in the next beat of her heart.

  She was out of her league, without any options. This thing was a beast of prey. He enjoyed the hunt and had set the entire scene to suit his taste. A thousand things went through her mind. Chief among these was the thought of her best friend lying a few feet on the ground, and her sorrow for his parents, who’d never really know the truth of what’d happened to their son.

  “Very nice … pretty, pretty,” he slowly whispered in broken English. Then he licked his lips and made a loud sucking sound as he did so. “I learn your human words so you will understand … because you are a woman and the flesh of such is always sweeter, I will take you slowly. I will slake my lust on your body as I eat. And it will be good, little enforcer. There may even be enough life left to feel me inside you
. Perhaps I’ll hear you scream in fear as you lie beneath me.” He nodded. “That would be most pleasurable. Most pleasurable indeed!”

  Under the bright light of a full moon, his raised weapon looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Laurel knew she had only seconds left to breathe. But there were ways to go that were preferable than letting this beast take her as he wanted.

  She gathered her strength and prepared to lunge. She’d either knock him to the ground or take a chest shot from his space-age looking weapon and end it.

  His long, bony finger curled around what looked like a trigger. It seemed like the darkness hid nothing now though she mentally begged for total blackness.

  A low whining sound came from the brush. He jerked his head to the left, as if shocked by the sound. Then her would-be killer cried out loud and long; the sound of his feral scream echoed everywhere.

  A burst of light sliced through the night. It was similar to the illumination created by the monster’s weapon except it seemed far more powerful. Sudden glow lit everything around them almost as bright as noontime.

  The horrible entity before her lurched sideways. Long, flowing hair she hadn’t noticed before flew around his features as he fell forward yelling in fury.

  The muzzle of his weapon was still aimed in her direction. As he dropped toward the dirt, silvery light shot from it and right at her. Sudden, white-hot pain made her cry out in agony. She heard her own voice mingle with that of her attacker’s. The sound of her cry seemed strange, as if the outrage it represented belonged elsewhere.

  Intense pain flooded every cell of her body.

  In weird slow motion that punctuated the agonizing moment, her body flew backward and onto the ground.

  Stars shimmered overhead. Except for the breeze coming off the nearby ocean, the night grew silent again. She took one shuddering gasp and pain destroyed her instincts to stay awake. Darkness closed in.

  • • •

  Darius Starlaw ran forward with his ground crew. Among them were his second-in-command, Barst K’rad, and his medical technician, Gemma Tocurus. All who’d landed on this small rock of a world were chosen because of their previous experience and the knowledge that they’d lay down their lives for one another. In this instance, the danger was most extreme; he’d take no chances.