Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  Lucien gave an irritated look to Jacques. “Do I have to do everything around here?” He leaned over his seat and tugged Claudette off Francois with a squelching sound. He squirted Francois and Monique’s faces with the paralyzing Forbidden Kiss. “There ... happy now?”

  Lucien faltered, noticing all the shutters were closed on the ground floor windows. The heavy front door was locked. He led the way to the rear to discover that this country peasant had locked that door too. This was not normal for country folk, they must be expecting trouble.

  He looked around for any sign of danger, confident there would be nothing to upset his plans. He nodded to Jacques.

  Jacques removed his switchblade and forced the lock open with ease.

  Lucien entered the dark kitchen, pausing for a brief moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He sensed worry and fear from the inhabitants. With footsteps as light as a feather he skipped through the kitchen into the dining room with the confidence of his stealth and superiority.

  Jacques and Claudette followed with equal agility.

  Claudette could not resist giggling and whispered in excitement, “Do we use the Forbidden Kiss?”

  Lucien whirled around and silenced the bitch with a gleam of his fangs. He went stiff, sensing alertness from above.

  Lucien rushed to the bottom of the stairs and listened. He had to be quick or lose the moment.

  ~~~~

  Jean Busson, wearing a nightgown, hugged Annette, still in her filthy clothes. Flickering light from an oil lamp cast eerie shadows around the bedroom.

  She slumped onto her bed and cried. “I knew there was something wrong about them ... will they come here looking for me, Papa?”

  Busson kissed Annette on the forehead and prayed that would not be the case. “I pray they don’t, my sweet Annette. We must leave right now.” He left and entered his bedroom. He slipped off his nightgown and pulled on a pair of faded corduroy trousers. He sat on the bed next to a worried Lisette.

  Lisette cuddled up to Busson. “What are we going to do, Jean ... they have my Monique?” She began to cry.

  Busson kissed her. “We must get to the village and warn everyone those killers are still here. Get dressed!” He picked up a shirt from the floor and was about to put it on when Papillon leapt from the bed. “What’s the matter boy?” He took an oil lamp from a bed stand and hopped off the bed.

  Papillon whined then growled menacingly at the door.

  Busson was alerted by a creaking board in the hall. At first he thought it was Annette but it sounded more than one person and Papillon would not growl at Annette. He gave a worried glance to his bride-to-be and put a finger to his lips.

  Lisette put a hand to her mouth in fear. She burrowed under the bedclothes.

  A semi-naked Busson blew out the lamp and set it on the bedside table. Rushing to a double wardrobe, he removed his trusty double-barreled shotgun, checked it was fully loaded and carefully locked the barrels shut. He removed a box of shells and tossed them onto the bed, waiting nervously while Papillon scratched at the door. He tapped his leg to get the dog’s attention.

  Papillon ran to his master, whining.

  Now more than ever, he wished he had a telephone.

  The door flew open with a crash.

  Lisette Rousseau groaned with terror but her sounds were drowned out by Papillon’s furious barking.

  The trusty hound pounced on the arm holding the curved sword.

  ~~~~

  Lucien screamed in agony, his arm dragged down under the weight of the dog. The sword clattered to the floor.

  Jacques and Claudette paused in confusion in the hall.

  Lucien kicked and punched the dog. Papillon yelped in pain and released his grip on the intruder’s arm. Lucien snatched up his sword and advanced on Busson, partially concealed by dark shadows in the corner of the room next to the wardrobe. The only light was the dull glow of the full moon relenting to dawn.

  “Busson ... Busson ... Busson ....” Lucien’s eyes shone with hatred. Fleeting images of Delicate Rose on the back of Busson’s cart filled his mind. “Where’s my Delicate Rose?” Lucien screamed to the shadow hovering in front of him. His hatred and anger was concentrated on Busson. “You know where she is, don’t you?” He sensed Busson’s intent, heard the double click from both triggers of the shotgun and dived to the side.

  Both barrels exploded with a ferocious boom. The bedroom door disintegrated. Several pellets found their mark in Lucien’s left side.

  Claudette screamed in pain at splinters impaling her legs.

  Jacques stared down at his left hand now missing two fingers. He laughed like a madman.

  Annette screamed out, “Papa, what’s happening?” More screams.

  Lucien grinned with delight and raised his sword at Busson’s back. He staggered in pain with blood gushing from his wounds and lunged at Busson but the dog tripped him, gnawing at his ankle. The sword clattered to the floor once more. Lucien kicked at the dog, trying to reach his sword.

  Busson moaned desperately while reloading the shotgun.

  Lucien frantically kicked at the dog, his fate advancing on him with every second.

  The shotgun was snapped shut and shoved into Lucien’s face, splitting his upper lip. He sensed how much Busson wanted to pull both triggers.

  Lucien tentatively reached for his sword with an outstretched hand not taking his eyes from Busson’s glare.

  Busson warned him to stop with a shake of his head. He whistled for Papillon.

  Papillon obeyed and ran behind his master’s legs.

  Claudette staggered in, bleeding from several deep gashes in her legs. She screamed at Busson, “You’ve ruined my coat, you fucking bastard.” She lifted her coat to show holes peppered in it.

  Lucien glared into the barrels with a terrible grimace. His face changed to a wicked smile when Jacques entered the bedroom with a knife to Annette’s throat.

  Annette whimpered, “Papa!”

  Lucien allowed Busson one last look at his daughter.

  Busson trembled and dared look over his shoulder. He faltered. His gun hand began to shake with the enormity of the situation. His daughter stood rigid with terror, blood trickling from her neck where the knife laid claim to flesh. He stepped to his side so he could see his daughter.

  Lucien laughed triumphantly and picked up his sword. He staggered to his feet and immediately clutched his left side. Blood oozed through his fingers. He giggled hysterically, stiffened then breathed a satisfied sigh. The blood slowed to a trickle. “That’s better.”

  He wiggled a naughty finger at Busson, “Shouldn’t have done that, Busson ... you dance with the Devil ... you sleep with the Devil.”

  ~~~~

  Busson frowned for a precious heartbeat. A brief image of a teenage boy and girl demanding pig’s blood ripped across his fevered mind. His father’s throat torn out. He saw moonlight glinting off Lucien’s fangs. What the Devil?

  Busson aimed his gun at Lucien. “I’m not afraid of you, Dupont.” But he was terrified.

  Lucien giggled. “I was going to let you all go. But now ....”

  Busson spat. “As if we had a choice.” He marched up to Lucien and shoved the gun into his stomach. “If you harm one hair on my daughter’s head, I’ll blow you in half you murdering bastard.”

  Busson smirked at a faltering Lucien whose face grimaced with fear. He breathed with relief to see him slip the curved sword into its scabbard.

  “I’m not afraid to die. Are you?” Lucien laughed like a madman. He frowned at Busson’s rigid manner and nodded to Jacques to let Annette go.

  Annette ran to her father for protection but Lucien caught hold of her and swished his sword to her neck. “Not so fast, my pretty Annette.”

  Busson held his ground. He stared into his daughter’s eyes and knew they were all going to die. Movement alerted him. He had just enough time to use his gun to deflect the sword in a shower of sparks.

  Busson cried out to see Ann
ette shoved into the Negro’s embrace. He was tackled to the floor by Lucien. The gun skidded across the room into the darkness under the bed. The tip of Lucien’s sword teased Busson to his feet. He flinched at the stinging pain from a thin gash slashed across his heaving chest. The sword was lowered to his groin.

  “Ooh, not so brave now, are we?” Lucien laughed.

  Busson stared in horror at the other vampires gripping his Annette with fangs at the ready. His mind flashed back to that hideous birth nineteen years ago this very day. It seemed connected.

  Lucien frowned. “Oh dear ... I do believe I have forgotten something.” He pounced on the bed and stabbed his sword through to the floor. A faint groan came from beneath. “That’s better.” He yanked the sword from the mattress and wiped the bloody tip with a sheet. “Where is she?” he screamed to Busson.

  “No!” Busson collapsed to the floor with head in hands.

  He dived under the bed and grabbed the shotgun. For a split second he stared into Lisette’s dead eyes. He raised the weapon but Lucien howled with rage, slashing across his chest. Busson looked down at his skin parting like two curtains, revealing ribs. The gun dipped in his hands at the knowledge his life was over.

  Lucien backed out of the doorway, using Annette as a shield.

  Busson staggered forward trying to aim the gun with trembling hands. Before he could use it, Lucien and his vampires fled with his beloved Annette screaming into the darkness.

  Busson stumbled after them with a barking Papillon at his side. He stopped short of leaving his home when several bullets thumped into the wall by his head. Searing pain erupted in his chest, clutching the bullet wound, he fell face first to the ground.

  Lucien called out, “Bye!” He laughed.

  Busson’s vision blurred with defeat. Papillon whined and licked his face.

  Chapter 45

  The Eternal Moon paled into insignificance while a living nightmare descended upon the innocent village of Douvrey, plunging its occupants into a cauldron of terror. The demonic Mercedes parked up within the impenetrable darkness provided by a grove of walnut trees.

  Lucien dragged a struggling Annette from the car and sank his fangs into her. He reveled in her agony and her glorious blood, so smooth and fruity filled his stomach with renewed vigor to chill the blood fire. For a country bumpkin, she tasted like a Chateau Margaux, perfectly rounded, slightly plumy with an aftertaste of ripe berries.

  Lucien released her neck and stared into her rigid face. “I will set you free if you tell me what I need to know.”

  Annette gagged on her fear. “I cannot tell what I do not know. That is the truth. Please let me go.”

  Lucien allowed her blood memories into his mind. Perhaps she is telling the truth but the game must go on. Think, damn it! Where else would Delicate Rose hide? Not even The Count could help him for his brain was already dying with the blood fire. All he could hope for was enough fresh blood to revive him.

  Francois lay across the rear seat breathing in the heavenly aroma sprayed into his drunken face by Claudette. At first, Francois giggled at Claudette’s playful demeanor. In a moment his face went completely blank and lifeless. He watched Claudette’s fangs stab his jugular vein.

  Monique began to stir from her drunken stupor mixed with Forbidden Kiss. She opened her eyes to see Claudette’s mouth clamp down on hers.

  Lucien joined in the feast, his sharp incisors impaling Monique’s slender neck. He drank the vibrant essence of her life with utter relish. Her wonderfully demure blood had a delightful lust to it, bursting with ripe flavors tainted with brandy – similar to a fine ruby port. Lucien tasted her warmth, so rich, without a trace of bitterness that he was so accustomed to in the big city, where syphilis, tuberculosis and a myriad other poisons contaminated his supply.

  Lucien sniggered at Annette’s torment. He looked up from Monique’s neck to see the sun slowly rising and recalled the makeup pot he’d left behind on the dresser back at the café. Lucien trembled with anger at his own stupidity. Death was too close now.

  “No!” The Count would have none of that. “You are perfect. You are supreme. You are a man!”

  The thought of the searing pain that would soon engulf him was almost as unbearable as missing the Eternal Hour. He clicked his fingers. “Enough! We don’t want to fill ourselves before the Eternal Hour.” He smirked in a callous way. “These bottles are empty anyway.”

  Lucien gave Jacques a hefty kick in the side, “I said now!”

  Jacques groaned his displeasure, sliding off Annette’s limp body.

  Annette watched her own nightmare unfold as it grinned down and blew her a bloody kiss.

  Lucien tugged Claudette from Francois. The waiter looked close to death. Lucien felt Francois’ pulse at his neck and giggled. “C’est la vie!”

  Jacques and Claudette dragged their victims into a watery ditch. They covered them with flotsam then tossed empty bottles to allay any suspicion.

  Jacques settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He looked to Lucien, “What if they should wake up. No witnesses!’

  Lucien shrugged and said, “They’re too far gone for that.” He pointed at the weak sun rising, “Back to the café before we fucking fry.” He grimaced to Jacques. “Before we rest up, disable all cars in the village. There can’t be that many.”

  Chapter 46

  Eternal released the bars with whitened knuckles and hissed away from the early morning sun. She instinctively knew her completion was close at hand. Edouard must stop Lucien this very moment or she will never achieve her rightful place.

  She hoped with all her heart that he would succeed this time and cried softly, knowing the task was almost insurmountable. Lucien was as devious as the Devil and strong as an ox. She hoped for completion before Lucien could intercede. She opened her mind and searched for him.

  ~~~~

  Lucien grunted with satisfaction when Jacques put his foot to the floor. The Mercedes lurched off the grassy verge and skidded onto the lane with the sun growing more intense by the second.

  Lucien pulled his coat over his face feeling his delicate skin prickling with heat.

  “For fuck’s sake, Jacques, move it or we’re toast,” Claudette screamed petulantly.

  Lucien saw the thick cable hanging from pole to pole as they drove closer to Douvrey. “Stop the car!”

  Jacques continued driving with some urgency.

  Lucien screamed, “Stop the fucking car!”

  Jacques slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a jolting stop next to a pole.

  Lucien pulled his coat tight about his face and sprang from the car. The heat was unbearable now, even though it was only four in the morning. Lucien ducked under a tree for protection and scooped up some mud. He rubbed the mud over his face and hands and walked into the blinding sunrise. With tear-filled eyes he found his sunglasses and slipped them on with trembling fingers.

  The car rocked violently when Lucien clambered onto the edge of the roof where the upper door supports were and climbed the pole. With a swish of his blade, the cable was left dangling in a hedge. He slipped and had to use both hands, or fall. In his desperation he dropped his sword which impaled the soft top roof. A grin cracked his face hearing Claudette’s angry screams. More searing pain when his sunglasses slipped off.

  With tears running down his muddy face, Lucien climbed down the pole and jumped the last few feet to the ground. He retrieved his glasses and sword and was about to hop back into the car.

  “Hey you! What the Devil’s going on?” A flic stepped from a copse on the other side of the road and approached with a gun in hand.

  “I don’t have time for this.” Lucien used his sword like a spear and impaled the flic’s chest. He rushed to the quivering body and slashed down with the blade. The flic’s legs quivered then stiffened in death.

  He wiped the blade on the flic’s tunic and dragged the body out of sight. He hopped into the car, breathing heavily.

  Jacqu
es took one look at Lucien and burst out laughing. “Very fetching, man.”

  Lucien scowled with squinting eyes. Just two hours to go. He screamed with rage for it was obvious he would not witness the transformation of his Delicate Rose into Eternal. He calmed down to a trembling anger and slipped on his sunglasses.

  “Back to the café. Those village idiots are no match for us.” Lucien kicked the dashboard with frustration. “We’ll rest up a while. Let our wounds heal and make a fresh start.”

  Claudette asked in an obvious way, “But what about your precious Delicate Rose, Lucien?”

  Lucien removed his sunglasses. He turned around and glared at Claudette with bloodshot eyes. “What do you fucking think ... I want her back, you stupid bitch.” He gave her a withering look. “She’ll be so powerful from the Eternal making I’ll know where she is ... got that.” He turned back to the windscreen. “Besides we’ll all die if we don’t tap the source.”

  Claudette flinched, “I only asked?”

  ~~~~

  Eternal shook her head to remove the after-images of The Count’s evil. He was growing weaker with every beat of his black heart. This gave her hope. A shudder of revulsion disconnected her link to the vile Lucien. Something almost as monstrous was coming her way. She probed within the walls of the asylum and found the demon.

  In another room – equally as Spartan as her own, the dark, hateful face of Bonbon reflected from a mirror. It blew a kiss, touching its scarred face. For a brief moment the demon showed itself. Bonbon jumped in shock.

  “Beautiful Bonbon ... you must take her before she wakes. Show her what it is to hurt Bonbon. Make her understand.”

  The demon glared with such ferocity Bonbon turned away. He snatched a paper bag full of his favored lemon bonbons and a key from a hook on the back of the door. Chewing a lemon bonbon his quivering hand slipped a cutthroat razor into his pocket.

  Eternal gasped at its intentions but stayed inside the creature’s head.

  Bonbon descended the stairs to the corridor where Eternal’s room waited for his presence. Dawn’s first light had now been replaced by the lustrous golden glow of early morning, streaming across the hallway, turning Bonbon’s hospital whites a pale yellow. He waited outside her room and placed an ear to the door. He listened intently and licked his lips in anticipation, massaging his raging erection. With a trembling hand he quietly slipped the key into the lock.