~~~~
Lucien strolled along the gaudy Pigalle looking for a suitable test subject.
“Over there!”The Count urged.
A pretty young girl plied her trade at a street corner. She saw Lucien and gave him the come-on-and-get-some look, lifting her short skirt to reveal her dark v-patch. They walked down an alley and stopped in a doorway.
He offered the girl a fifty Franc note, spraying her face with Forbidden Kiss. She coughed. To his annoyance, she would not stop coughing, eventually doubling up in pain.
Lucien stepped back and casually waited, counting the time with his watch.
The girl gasped, went as stiff as a board and collapsed to the filthy, litter-strewn ground.
Excellent! He bent down and felt for a pulse. Oh well, back to the drawing board. That was exactly when her pimp attacked with a wicked serrated blade. Lucien laughed with pure joy, nimbly side-stepping and tripping the man. The Count’s need for blood pinned the pimp face down in the muck. Lucien removed a short Japanese sword from his coat and took great delight in permanently adding that filth to the alley.
~~~~
The moon timidly surrendered its grip to the rising sun. Lucien entered his dimly-lit kitchen where Jacques sat drinking steaming hot coffee. Next to him sat Claudette smoking a cigarette from a long, elegant holder – well he did say make yourselves comfortable. Lucien grimaced at the foul stench of tobacco causing his stomach to churn. He saw Claudette’s defiant look and decided to ignore it.
The Count berated Lucien for his cowardice.
“Did the Forbidden Kiss work, man?” Jacques asked.
“Too well, I’m afraid ... it needs to be diluted.” Lucien shrugged offhandedly.
“Shame! When do we get to see her, man?” Jacques licked his lips in anticipation.
“Yes, Lucien ... I want to see your mistress,” Claudette demanded with a petulant pout. “You told Jacques she would make us immortal.”
“Patience my eager friends,” he said with an irritated glare. He quickly left.
Lucien raced up the stairs to the attic room, humming a pleasant tune. He removed a gold key from his pocket, unlocked the door and entered. A pathetic whimpering came from within. He ran a long-nailed finger down numerous deep, bloody scratches in the door panel. Oh, how sad! He had to control the need to snicker.
Impaled upon a black candlestick, a flickering candle now close to death forced his eyes to search the dark shadows for his mistress. The black velvet drapes were drawn shut across the window. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Sudden movement! Ah, there you are, my Delicate Rose. His heart quickened as it always did in her presence.
Amongst the darkness which she sought the most hid the ghostly form of his woman in a long, flowing nightgown of black silk. She approached him like an old hag, bent with age. Her gaunt face seemed to float from one shadow to the next, her disheveled hair barely attracting the meager light from the flickering candle. Drawing closer, she seemed to become more afraid. She beseeched Lucien with frail arms outstretched, her fingernails broken and bloody.
“I don’t like your new friends ... and don’t even try to use the powder on me,” she said.
Lucien flinched at her powers. “You can’t stop me, my sweet, Delicate Rose.” He smirked with callous delight, gripping his woman’s fragile arms and twisting with open hostility. He grinned at her pain and grasped a handful of hair, forcing her to kneel in front of him.
“When will you let me out of this accursed room, Lucien?” Her dark eyes were filled with tears. “We used to have such fun at the La Rotonde with Soo-Soo, Coco and Ellise.” She wiped away the tears. “The probing drains me.”
“When The Count decides, my lovely Little Rose, you’ll be the first to know.” Lucien stood before her, so superior, relishing in her grief.
“But I must feed now ... I am so weak I can barely stand.”
“Not yet!” He tugged hard on her hair and relished her gasp.
“If I die you will never become an eternal vampire.”
He jolted at the revelation. Upon seeing a momentary look of victory cross her face, he angrily shoved her to the stained wooden floor. He grimaced at her pawing his legs with trembling fingers.
“Please, Lucien, let me drink?” She tried to undo his trousers. “When I’m complete I will let you be my other half.” She smiled with trembling lips.
He kicked her away. “Don’t try to fool me, bitch! I will not succumb to your whore’s ways.” Laughing with derision, he strolled out the door to leave his woman to her misery. He quickly slammed the door shut and locked it, smiling at the distinctive sounds of her fingernails desperately scratching for release. He snorted a repressed chuckle.
Lucien entered his bedroom, also cloaked in darkness. Everything was black from the walls to the curtains. He gave life to a black candle. With a moan of ecstasy, he ran an appreciative hand along the massive coffin that passed for his bed. He got down on his knees and caressed the fine wood. His sword clunked against the floor when he opened the coffin lid and smelled the fresh aroma of new silk and varnish. He couldn’t wait to sleep in it for the first time as a real vampire.
Lucien draped his coat over a black mannequin, removing the Japanese short sword. He slid the bloody blade from its sheath and stroked the steel with a calm reverence, wiping it clean with a black silk handkerchief.
He held his wakizashi with complete adoration. It was his most prized possession of the inanimate kind.
The Count reminded him with lurid images of its violent possession.
Maxim’s Restaurant bustled with the rich and famous dining out for the evening. Lucien sat alone at his favorite table. He pushed his dinner plate aside. His appetite had momentarily left him. His intense gaze was focused on a Japanese businessman seated nearby showing off his elegant short sword to a female companion.
“I must have it. Saito must die!” The Count demanded.
Lucien bided his time waiting patiently to carry out his master’s orders.
The moment arrived when Saito excused himself from his companion and went into the rest room, taking his sword with him.
Lucien followed like the grim reaper.
They were alone. There was a brief scuffle ending with Lucien slashing Saito’s throat with his own wakizashi. The magnificent short sword was now his or rather The Count’s.
Lucien snapped out of his memory and sighed. He could lose every franc he owned right now so long as he had this sword wherever he went, neatly attached to the inside of his custom-made coat. He could not resist running a finger along the side of the blade, sucking the blood from the gash it produced. A sigh of adoration escaped his lips, admiring the exquisite craftsmanship, the way the steel lapped at the edge of the sword like gentle waves on a sun-kissed beach of white sand. He kissed the blade. The sword was sheathed and placed on the stand.
Lucien stepped back and bowed to the forged steel effigy. A sudden thought ripped through his mind. Only four more nights before the moon would be full – the sacred Eternal Hour – six in the morning of the sixth of June 1925. Just four more nights! He pondered what would happen if his mistress could not wait any longer and actually died of hunger. A chill trembled through his lean body at that thought. No! Now was not the time. She was tricking him with her female wiles. Dawn approached fast. Another day or two would surely put her in the right mood.
Sleep grasped Lucien with its inevitable curse.
The Count told Lucien he must have carnage to survive. He flooded Lucien’s mind with strange images of future events. Bombs destroyed a harbor full of mighty warships. Bodies rotted in death camps, tortured by hideous demons. Soldiers in jackboots marched through the streets of Paris. A demented dictator ruled over much of Europe. The Count told Lucien that had Saito the peace-monger lived, all of this carnage would have been averted.
Lucien moaned in his sleep knowing history had been set on the right road.
Chapter 10
3rd June
Lucien leapt from the bed, rushed to the window and spread his arms in exaltation. The moon was almost there – almost full, now crossing the threshold into the early hours. It was still the third night before the Eternal Hour but his patience had worn too thin.
It was time to introduce his friends to the woman who had captured his festering soul and seduced him with thoughts of blood. Lucien slipped on a black silk robe, removed the blade from its scabbard, snatched his whip and left his bedroom.
~~~~
Lucien, Jacques and Claudette stood at the open door watching the haggard mistress trying to remove the bars from the attic window.
Lucien grinned with pleasure while she tugged with all her frailty, obviously unaware of his presence. A cry of despair left her. She slumped to the floor with her head in her hands and wept.
“Snap out of it, bitch,” The Count mused.
She stepped from the protection of the shadows and hesitated at the sight of the two strangers standing next to Lucien. She looked afraid, giving Lucien an inquisitive glance from eyes sunken into their sockets, ringed with dark smudges.
She backed away from Lucien approaching with his sword, smiling, coaxing her to join him. Her eyes widened with hunger when he slashed his forearm with the blade and offered his blood to her.
“Come on ... this is what you’ve been waiting for,” Lucien urged.
The effect of his blood was immediate. Even Lucien jumped with shock, staring at her massive fangs sinking into his arm, sucking on the wound with wild abandon. He became aroused with sweet agony.
His erection was painfully hard like a marble headstone. The ache for release sent shudders through his body. Lucien’s eyes rolled up in their sockets with the unstoppable surge of ecstasy. He shuddered with an explosive orgasm that almost stopped his heart.
What joy! Her dark vampire lullaby he had grown to love as a teenager returned full volume. The fluttering of ravens’ wings upon a celestial harp sounded so sweet, so mesmerizing, he felt at home once more. A fleeting image of a teenage Delicate Rose drinking pig’s blood then kissing his lips aroused him further. He had finally allowed her to fulfill her birthright – to drink human blood and it was wonderful – better than sex.
The Count screamed at Lucien, “She’s draining you!”
Lucien obeyed his inner demon and snapped out of her hypnotic allure, snatching his arm away. He was amazed to see her haggard looks quickly fade, replaced by a wondrous, fine porcelain skin. Her brown eyes turned black as night and gleamed with bloodlust. Her lustrous hair, now a deep burgundy-black, shone with a delightful radiance.
She ran a finger along her enormous fangs. “I love the gleaming.” Delicate Rose laughed, swirling around the room with pure joy. “Oh Lucien, you cannot imagine how it feels ... I am free.”
The mistress stopped and stared with obvious hunger at the tall Negro and the delicious brunette at his side. She gleamed her fangs and licked them with obvious intent. “That one never told you what the Militia did to him ... would you like to know, Lucien?” She snarled.
Lucien sensed both his companions minds allowing her vampiric lullaby to lull them with its hypnotic allure.
“They’re begging for it, Lucien. I must have them ... right now!”
“So be it!” Lucien grabbed Jacques’ arm and was about to slash it with his sword when he was pushed aside.
She smiled wide, a grin filled with animalistic teeth and sank her fangs into Jacques’ arm. After a moment of slurping she looked to Lucien. “They stapled this one’s foreskin to a chair and beat him.”
Jacques flinched in pain, the shock of her words evident on his face. “The bitch can read my mind.”
“Join the club.” Lucien chuckled.
Claudette looked nervously to Jacques then to Lucien who urged her on. She offered her arm to the mistress. Her pain was exquisitely etched on her face.
Lucien stood proudly watching his Delicate Rose grow stronger on Claudette’s sweet offering. He hoped the taste of Delicate Rose’s blood would be like a heavy red wine, heady and strong.
“Wait for it,” The Count demanded.
Her dark music filled his head with confusion and madness. He had to concentrate to rid his mind of visions – wild parties, writhing nakedness, an orgy of squirming bodies, sex and blood. Lucien wondered if drinking from three different vintages was wise but it was too late to worry. He clearly saw the blood lust taking her over.
“Enough!” The Count ordered.
Lucien pushed his mistress away from the two uncorked bottles. He grinned with dark pleasure when she begged him for more with her luminous eyes of black diamonds. “How wonderful you look, my Petite Rose. You’re beauty has returned in all its glory.” Lucien smiled.
The Count spoke, “Think of her bitch friend Ellise painting her portrait. It will distract her.”
Lucien obeyed. He smiled at her look of confusion. “You look good enough to eat.” He nodded to his friends. “Hold her!” He used the whip to bind her legs before she could run. He snatched her arm and slashed it, laughing cruelly at her flesh parting like a blooming rose in the sun.
Lucien’s Petite Rose screamed, “Not my blood! No Lucien. No!” She trembled in terror.
Lucien gripped her arm firmly and drank. “Oh my ... this is so smooth, my Sweet Rose.” He drank her eternal essence for some considerable time before allowing Jacques and Claudette to do the same.
Lucien placed the sharp edge of the blade to Sweet Rose’s throat while Jacques and Claudette drank her precious essence.
The Count told Lucien not to let his friends drink so much, that way he would be the superior one.
Once it was over, the mistress fell to Lucien’s feet, whimpering pathetically. She clawed at his legs, fumbling at his bulging groin and wailed when her disheveled looks rapidly returned.
“Please, Lucien, let me out, let me feed,” she begged. “I want to look beautiful all the time ... not like this. I want to dance. I want to see my friends.”
“I want to see my friends,” Lucien said in a childish, teasing manner. He laughed, indicating to his companions to leave. A brief shrug of compassion forced Lucien to squeeze a few drops of blood from his arm. With a wicked chuckle, he pushed the love of his life to the wooden floor and sneered at her lapping up the tiny pools of sustenance.
She licked blood from her lips. “You’ll always be a Suckling, Lucien ... always depending on my blood ... a pathetic addict. I’ll never give you my Eternal blood. Never!”
“I’ll take what I need.” Lucien locked the door and smirked when her feeble fists hammered it.
“If you take my blood, you’ll lose me forever, Lucien. You will never be an Eternal, for my blood was not meant for you.” She thrashed at the door, hissing with spite. “I never loved you.”
Jacques and Claudette looked concerned in the hallway.
“What’s a Suckling?” Jacques asked.
“She thinks she’s condemned us all to be Sucklings, forever suckling on her blood when she sees fit.”
“What happens if she should die?” Claudette said with a worried look.
“What the fuck do you think? We all die.” Lucien grimaced, soon to be replaced by a wicked smile. “Don’t fret, my beautiful Claudette. I won’t let it come to that. Now go to your rooms and prepare for the making.” Lucien grinned and listened to The Count.
“Your blood will boil with her poison. The pain will make a real vampire of you. Be prepared!”
Lucien smirked. “It’s going to hurt, so I have heard.”
“The making?” Claudette frowned. She turned to Jacques who shrugged so what.
~~~~
Lucien trembled with the poison boiling through his veins. The alchemy of vampiric conversion was an angelic lullaby of sweet torment. Sweat erupted all over him. He burned with a liquid fire while the making contaminated his blood, heart, arteries and flesh. A freezing cloak wrapped his body in an icy embrace. He shuddered with every fiber. In a flash o
f scorching agony, hell’s flames tossed him into a furnace. The ancient music filled his head to bursting. It drove Lucien mad.
Naked, he leapt from his coffin and raced around his bedroom, crashing into furniture and walls alike. His wildly pumping heart started to slow. He stopped the raging and listened breathlessly.
He stared in wonder at the cut on his arm, now a mere blemish. His head cocked to one side, listening to every single bird, the moans from Jacques and Claudette going through the making and the distress from his woman. The dark lullaby had diminished to tolerable background music.
An uncontrollable urge to kill shook his body. He looked all around and settled on the four-poster bed. With his bare hands he smashed the bed frame to pieces. The Suckling Vampire was gratified at his strength, easily twice that of an ordinary man. He wondered how his friends were handling the making and didn’t give a fuck. Curious, he ran a fingertip across his teeth.
“Baise!” Lucien screamed. He raced up to the leather-bound volume next to his sword and wanted to rip it page from page. He now realized that being a vampire was not anything like Bram Stoker wrote about and this made him as mad as hell. His heart still thumped in his chest, his skin was warm to the touch and where were his fucking fangs? He was mad enough to kill and never stop. His patience was at its lowest ebb. He paced back and forth with insane visions of bloodletting ripping his mind like a scythe through wheat. He needed to freshen up.
A miserable Lucien shaved his stubbly face in his private bathroom. He grimaced at his reflection, opening his mouth to see ordinary teeth. His immediate anger caused his hand to waver. He nicked the skin at his neck. A tiny drop of blood seeped from the small wound. Lucien’s heart went into overdrive at the sight of losing his precious blood. The blood flowed like a river in flood.
At first, he panicked, dropping the razor and trying to stem the torrent with trembling fingers.
The Count spoke to his dark soul, telling him to be calm.
He summoned all his focus to slow his wildly beating heart. The blood flow eased to a bothersome dribble.
Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance Page 21
