The Art of Seduction

by Annie Harland Creek

  “After she had drained me almost to the point of death, she bit her wrist and forced me to drink some of her blood…” He watched as the color drained from Meaghan’s face and her mouth dropped open in shock.

  “For a few moments, I lay there wondering what was going on. She told me that she’d given me a gift. When I glared at her, she laughed and told me I could thank her later. She informed me that, if I concentrated on the eyes of a potential victim, I could bend them to my will. I guess that’s what she’d done to me. As I digested the information, I was hit by a wave of pain, worse than anything I’d ever experienced. My physical body was dying. Somehow I made it to the bathroom before I was violently ill. Imagine a terrible case of food-poisoning. My bowels and stomach heaved and clenched uncontrollably until all traces of my humanity were expelled. When I came back from the head, she was gone. She’d left me to suffer the pain of blood-lust without any assistance or guidance. The hunger I later experienced was almost as painful as my death.”

  Meaghan could taste the bile in her mouth. Hunger for blood? “Did you ever see her again?”

  “No. I never saw her again. At first she connected with me psychically, explaining how I could use mind control in my favor.”

  She felt the sting of jealousy. “Does she still connect with you?”

  “No. She was killed by the vampire council for neglecting her duties. It’s an offense to abandon a fledgling, and, from what I’ve since heard, I was not the only vampire she deserted.”

  “Have you ever killed?”

  “No. Not humans anyway. I’ve killed many rogue vampires but, only as part of my job as leader. Killing isn’t something I take lightly, Meaghan.”

  “But you drink blood?”

  “Yes, but it’s not necessary to kill in order to feed, and I only take enough to survive. The donor feels no pain and doesn’t remember the incident.”

  “But you drink blood?” Meaghan repeated. “You survive on blood?”

  “I thought we established that, kitten. I told you I was a vampire. What did you think I drank?”

  “Well … I saw you drinking wine…” Meaghan insisted, “…I don’t know David! I just got caught up in the romance. I guess I tried to push the blood part out of my mind.”

  “I think this is a conversation we should have when you are a little less … under the weather.”

  “You mean drunk,” Meaghan corrected.

  “You’ve had a traumatic experience, kitten. Have a good night’s sleep and we’ll discuss my lifestyle another time.”

  “No.” She shook her head vehemently. “We will discuss this now! I let you tell me your story, now I want to share a story of my own. It’s important, an insight into my reluctance to watch you feed.”

  David narrowed his eyes as he nodded his agreement. Part of him was reluctant to hear her story. He sensed the beginning of the end of their relationship but he was obliged to listen. He knew she’d grown up in an orphanage and had later become a police woman but he knew little else. He poured himself a scotch as she began her tale.

  “By the time I was a teenager, there were only a few of us older kids left at the orphanage, me, Terry, and a girl named Clarissa. Terry and I were really close but Clarissa kept pretty much to herself after she was returned from her foster parents’ home. She never spoke about why they brought her back. I think she blamed me.”

  “Why would she blame you?”

  “Well, before she was fostered, we were sort-of friends. She was a bit high strung and could have moments of violent rages but she was my roommate since as long as I can remember. When they fostered her out and she went to her new home, I missed her. I wanted to know that she was happy so I focused on the photo Clarissa had given me and found myself at her new house.”

  “You mean your incorporeal self?”

  Meaghan nodded. “I was very young and didn’t realize what I was doing. Clarissa freaked out and started screaming about me being a ghost. I got such a shock I shot back into my body before anyone else saw me. After she came back to the orphanage, she never spoke to me again. She would just stare at me with hate in her eyes or ignore me completely. I tried to apologize but she refused to listen. She became sullen and completely anti-social, refusing to speak to anyone and one day…” She paused. “One day I went to use the bathroom and found her on the tiled floor. Her blood was … everywhere. Arterial spray up the walls, on the ceiling … everywhere. She had slit her wrists with a razor that she’d stolen from the caretaker’s room.”

  “Did she survive?”

  Meaghan shrugged. “I don’t know. All they would tell me was that she wouldn’t be coming back. I was barely a teenager. I thought that it was probably adult code for dead.”

  “That’s possible. Death is hard to explain to a child.”

  “Since that day, I can’t stand the sight of blood whether it’s mine or someone else’s. I can’t stand the sight, smell or even the thought of blood. I get physically ill. I could never—not in a million years—entertain the thought of becoming a vampire. I’m sorry, David. I love you but I can’t be with you.”

  David opened his mouth to protest but Meaghan touched his mouth with her fingers and shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “I know I’m drunk and not making any sense but I need you to leave now. Please, David.”

  ****

  After David left the cottage and she had dead bolted the front door, Meaghan flopped onto her bed and cried. Despite being exhausted, both physically and emotionally, her mind went on hyperdrive. She felt pain, anger, sorrow, dread and most of all … fear. That hell-hound had come dangerously close to catching her and if it hadn’t been for David … well, she shuddered to think what might have happened. She clutched her own arms, finding her hands a poor substitute for David’s warm embrace and she suddenly wished that she had not sent him away. Her hands fumbled under her pillow and located her revolver. If that thing attacked again, this time she would be armed and ready. Terry’s words echoed in her head. Carry that gun with you at all times! He’d warned her that she wasn’t tough enough to be a cop and maybe he was right. Maybe the need to protect others wasn’t enough. Even David knew that it was a mistake to confront Lilith and her friends alone and without her sidearm. “How could you be so stupid?”

  Was he right? Had she grown careless or, had she always been careless and was only now recognizing her faults? Exhaustion closed her eyes but her mind continued to process the events of the evening. Humankind had its share of flesh and blood monsters … she could deal with them. But real monsters? Vampires and hell hounds? How was she supposed to cope with that?

  ****

  Meaghan woke often during the night, sure that she had heard the familiar weird howling from her old neighborhood. Her hand slid under her pillow to retrieve her weapon. She wrapped her fingers around the trigger of her gun. It’s your imagination. You had too much to drink and your mind is playing tricks. But, recent events had taught her that anything was possible and that there were dangers roaming around at night. Creatures born from nightmares, and at least one of them wanted her dead.

  When sunlight illuminated her bedroom, she gave up on the idea of sleep. Yawning, she threw back the covers and headed to the kitchen to put on the kettle before assembling an outfit suitable for the day’s work. While the kettle boiled, she wrapped her cast in plastic bags and climbed into the shower. The hot water eased some of the aches in her tired body but it was still a struggle to shampoo her hair. The pain in her wrist reminded her that—compared to the supernatural creatures that she had encountered—she was fragile and easily broken. David had not even intended to harm her but his superior strength had broken her wrist. How much damage could the hell-hound do? Meaghan remembered the training videos of the police dogs and how they’d been able to bring down full grown men using their fangs and claws. A mental vision formed. She saw herself being attacked by the hell-hound. Its fangs tore at her skin, gouging chunks of flesh from her bones, blood gushed
from the wounds. She heaved and bolted from the shower to the toilet. Bile burned her throat and David’s warning rang in her ears. “You should take it easy on the scotch otherwise you’ll have one hell of a hang-over tomorrow.” Damn you, David.”

  Somehow she managed to finish her shower and dress before returning to the kitchen. She chose to omit the usual splash of milk to her coffee, suspecting that it might upset her stomach but added a third spoonful of sugar to counteract the bitterness. As she drank, she counted her blessings. Being ambidextrous meant that her broken right hand only handicapped her a little. She could still maintain her independence. More importantly, she could still shoot. The long hours spent at the shooting range practicing with both hands had paid off. She was a crack shot with both, but, would that be enough? Would a bullet stop the hell-hound? And what about the demon? If that thing became corporeal…

  ****

  During her research, her mobile phone rang. She picked it up on the second ring.

  “Hello, Terry.”

  “Look, Megs. I’m sorry about last night. I was worried about you and … well, I just lost it.”

  “I know, I’m sorry too. You know that I can never stay mad at you. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Actually, there’s something I have been meaning to tell you for a long time, something that—”

  “What? Yeah, sorry. Look, Terry, I’m in the campus library and I’ve just been shooshed.”

  “I can hardly hear you … can you speak up?”

  “No. I’m in a quiet zone. I have to go. Can we finish this discussion later? I’ll call in to the station after I’m finished here.”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s nothing that can’t wait.”

  “Great, thanks. See you later.”

  She hung up the phone, mouthed an apology to the librarian and continued to search the computer as a smile spread across her face. I must remember to take him a chocolate éclair later. That always cheers him up.

  She typed in the word demon which led her to an alternate spelling … daemon. As she continued her search, it surprised her to discover that many cultures believed in the existence of these creatures whose name supposedly originated in Mesopotamia. The pinging of her phone attracted more angry glances so she mouthed another apology before reading the text from Terry. Leaving the station to check out a lead. How about meeting at my place around 7? I’ll supply pizza.

  Her first instinct was to decline. David would worry if she was late home but she couldn’t use him as an excuse. Besides, Terry offered an olive branch. How could she refuse? She texted back.

  I’ll bring the wine. Is red okay? Send.

  Ping. You know it.

  Seven it is. Send.

  With a sigh, she typed another message, this time addressed to David. Having dinner with a friend. May be late home. Don’t worry.

  “Excuse me.” She looked up to see a rather irritated librarian scowling down at her. “There are students waiting to use this computer. If you are finished, please vacate this seat.”

  “I’m not finished with the computer,” Meaghan told her. “And I promise that I won’t be any more trouble. Look. No more interruptions.” She turned the phone off and placed it in her handbag as she forced a smile.

  With a huff, the librarian departed and Meaghan returned to her search in earnest. The faster she got out of the library, the better.

  ****

  “Am I late?”

  “Nope, right on time.” Terry stepped aside and ushered Meaghan into his apartment. “The pizza guy just left.”

  “Smells good. My stomach was beginning to think that my throat had been cut.”

  Terry’s laugh brought a smile to Meaghan’s face. “It’s been a while since I heard you laugh.”

  “It’s been a while since we spent actual quality time together.”

  Meaghan nodded. “Too long.” She handed him a bag. “I brought two bottles, just in case.”

  “That’s my girl. The pizza is on the table. Help yourself while I get the glasses.”

  “Only one pizza?”

  “Geez, looking at you, no one would guess how much you like to eat. Don’t worry, Miss Piggy. There is garlic bread on the table and dessert in the fridge.”

  Meaghan pulled a face and poked out her tongue. “Just for that … I might keep the éclairs for myself.” She dangled another bag in his face.

  “Chocolate?” His eyes widened. He snatched bag from her hand and peeked inside. “I take back the Miss Piggy reference and will now refer to you as my goddess.”

  “That’s better.” She opened the pizza box and leaned in for a sniff. “Pepperoni heaven.”

  “Didn’t they feed you at the mansion?” Terry placed the wine glasses on the dining table and pulled out a chair for Meaghan. “Sit. Or are you going to stand over the pizza box and eat the lot by yourself?”

  Meaghan grabbed a slice of pizza before accepting the seat. With her mouth half-full, she answered. “Yes, they fed me very well and if you keep insulting me, I’m going home and taking the chocolate éclairs with me.”

  Terry raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll be good.” He put a slice of pizza on his plate and reached for the garlic bread, offering it to Meaghan. She reached out her hand but hesitated, then shook her head. Vampires are allergic to garlic, aren’t they?

  “What? No garlic bread? Who are you and what have you done with Meaghan?”

  “Just leaving room for dessert and besides, I wouldn’t want garlic breath later…” She considered the implications and added, “It might make the chocolate taste funny.”

  Terry put down the bread without taking a piece. Instead, he took a gulp of wine.

  “Hard day?”

  He shrugged. “No more than usual.” Between bites of pizza, he asked, “How was your excursion to the library?”

  “Actually, very informative.” She scoffed down her slice and grabbed another. “Did you know that Demons are mentioned in ancient texts from many cultures?”

  “You don’t still believe that you saw a demon? I thought I explained how—”

  “Yes … you told me that the smoke could have contained some sort of hallucinates, but, I know what I saw.”

  “Meaghan—”

  “Just hear me out, Terry.”

  “Fine. Spin me your yarn.” He took another slice from the box, rolled it into a scroll and shoved half in his mouth, chewing noisily.

  “Pretty.” She rolled her eyes. “Look. Whether you believe in Demons or not … it doesn’t matter. What matters is, the killers believe.”

  “Okay. You have my undivided attention.” He took a sip of wine. Meaghan mirrored his actions.

  “Bear with me while I try to explain. The ancient texts spoke about using daemons against their enemies. You know, like some evil genie.”

  “They grant wishes?”

  “In a way. If someone had a problem, they might call upon a daemon to solve it.”

  “Sounds like a twisted, screwed up fairy god-mother to me.”

  “Yeah, I know, right?”

  “How do they find these demons?”

  “From what I read … they might use a curse tablet. They write their request on a piece of metal or pottery and leave it hidden. Sometimes they would put it under floors or even place it in a cemetery.” She shuddered as she remembered her first encounter with the daemon.

  “Are you okay? You just paled a shade.”

  “Yeah. I just remembered something that might be important.”

  Terry leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Spill.”

  “Sacrifice was a big deal in antiquity, especially blood sacrifices.”

  Terry’s hands dropped to his lap and he sat forward. “What about candles? Did your research say anything about black candles?”

  “Candles and incense.” She nodded. “More common in modern times.”

  “So, you’re telling me that this is still practiced? This is the twenty-first century for fuck’s s
ake.”

  “I believe that candles are for effect and the blood is usually from a small animal. The practitioners don’t really believe that anything will happen. It’s a bit of a game, like dungeons and dragons.”

  “But, you don’t believe that our unsub is playing?”

  She shook her head. “I believe that our unsubs are not pulling any punches. They’re sacrificing humans in the hope of gaining something from a demon.” She held her hand up, palm out. “Before you naysay my theory. It doesn’t matter whether you believe or not. The perps will not stop killing until they get what they want.”

  “Then I guess we’d better figure out what that is.”

  ****

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “Sit down, David. You’ve been pacing the room since you read that text. How do know that she’s with this Terry Palmer guy?”

  David plonked himself into the nearest chair. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes, thank you. I was beginning to feel seasick just watching you. Now, did she say she was going out with her boss?”

  “No. The text said that she was having dinner with a friend.”

  Derrick smirked. “I’m sure that she has more than one friend.”

  “You don’t know her like I do. She was raised in an orphanage with Palmer. He has been her friend for her entire life.”

  “Then I don’t see the problem.”

  “Well, you would if you’d been privy to his thoughts. When he interviewed me after one of the murders, he could barely take his eyes off her.”

  “He was probably keeping an eye on her. I imagine it was all very innocent.”

  David’s mood darkened. “There was nothing innocent about the images in his head. He lusts after her. It was all I could do not to punch him in the mouth.”

  “Take a deep breath and calm down.”

  David rolled his eyes. “Really? You want me to take a deep breath? When was the last time you breathed?”