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

by Travis Luedke

  Eternal was lifted by Edouard’s immense strength. His fangs sank into her buttocks, over and over, leaving sets of bloodless pock marks. His probing fingers parted her moist petals where his tongue snaked around her wetness, delving into every crease. She whimpered when his tongue slipped deep inside her. She ground down on his face, gasping, his fangs nibbling her tender folds. She quivered with an impending explosion of rapture and was gratified when he released at the same moment.

  Edouard lifted her from his face and entered her with a gentle grind of his hips, teasing her need to have him to the hilt. Ever so tenderly he pushed deeper, savoring each orgasm that convulsed her body, gripping his erection like a fist. His teeth nipped at her neck and shoulders and her fangs found his flesh. His mouth discovered her tongue. He sucked it slowly wrapping his tongue around hers while they tangled their bodies, creating perfection. He stayed within her, as hard as steel – their hearts now silent as one – their minds in perfect unison. The eternal vampire lovers fell into a deep slumber wrapped in each other’s embrace.

  Chapter 57

  The vampire lovers awoke entwined as one, instinctively thinking each other’s thoughts in the dissipating afternoon gloom. They embraced the otherworldly, eternal storm for serving its purpose to protect Eternal from the sun.

  Edouard could feel the storm dwindling in strength, relenting to nature’s irresistible force to return the land to daylight. The power of this false twilight tugged at Edouard’s inner fire.

  Edouard sprang from the bed and swished the curtains apart. He opened the window and attempted to breathe in fresh air but his chest refused to expand, proving his young vampire mind still refused to believe he was now to all intents and purposes – dead!

  He frowned, realizing he couldn’t feel his bare feet on the wooden floor. The sensation of floating on air was immediately attractive. It seemed natural that his sense of touch had evaporated with his transformation. And yet when they made love or merely fondled, his skin tingled all over him and he sensed every nuance of Eternal’s sexual pleasure too. This vampire thing would take some getting used to.

  He was amazed to see a ghostly apparition reflected in the window. His complexion was that of fine white porcelain and those black-green eyes had something darkly brooding behind them now – his inner fire. He could see every fine hair on the back of his hand and even determine their exact length – without glasses!

  He placed hands to ears and cringed at the garbled signals of nightlife creating an entire orchestra in his head. An instant pain throbbed where blood once flowed, no longer providing oxygen to his grey matter and yet he could think as never before. And the night music did play to the direction of Mozart once more. Mozart! Eternal had mused him.

  He recalled a frantic Mozart, scribbling down his music while Eternal stroked his feverish head. The musician drank blood from a cup with trembling hands, his Requiem becoming his epitaph.

  Edouard let his hands fall to his sides and was bombarded by an explosion from the horn section. He was tempted to cover his ears but resisted the impulse. The familiar sound came from a barn owl hooting from a cedar in the garden. In his mind he envisioned the owl ripping a rat apart with its beak. It was as if he sat on the same branch. The wise old owl!

  The owl transformed into Plinius Secundus, a personal hero of Edouard’s and the author of the first encyclopedia on natural history. With a strange fascination, he watched Eternal muse Plinius with her blood. Plinius became so weak his body suffered the ravages of asthma. Edouard witnessed Plinius lead the Roman fleet to save victims at Pompeii only to die, the ash from Vesuvius smothering him. In a blink the owl hooted and flew off. He turned to Eternal with a look of boyish wonder.

  Eternal giggled. “You will get used to it, Edouard ... my muse is in my blood and living in the dark hours has its own benefits. You’ll see.”

  Edouard listened by the window, in the same manner he had often seen Eternal do. The owl was precisely fifteen meters away drifting along the night currents. He didn’t have to see it to know where it was. Astonishment replaced wonder at his heightened senses.

  He wanted more. His ears picked up a fox yelping with excitement, playing with a vole. Again, he couldn’t prevent images of Eternal’s past muses flashing across his mind. The fox reminded him of The Prince of Foxes, Cesare Borgia. The wicked prince dropped his goblet of blood for the last time, the fire burning out his brain. Eternal laughed with triumph.

  Birdsong of every kind bombarded him along with every creak and groan emitted by the chateau’s worn timbers.

  A second pale reflection joined Edouard’s. Eternal wrapped her arms around him and soothed him with her sweet dark music, the very essence of her allure. She used her inner fire to explain how to filter out the white noise of everyday life and concentrate on her music that filled him with a deep, dark love. She took his hand and led him back to bed.

  Drifting off to sleep, Edouard listened with a sad fascination to the church roof crackling under fire and the desperate cries of the villagers of Douvrey.

  Chapter 58

  While the eternal storm battled nature’s brilliant design, Father Papineau and the remaining villagers of Douvrey, worked tirelessly. A column of villagers, including several Gendarmes, handed buckets of water up the line to contain the fire within the church of Saint Madeleine. The effort was futile.

  Father Papineau wept when a shaft of sunlight struck the steeple for the last time. How many times had he rejoiced seeing the bell turning a liquid gold when the evening sun kissed its cold iron? He and the villagers stood back to watch the steeple collapse, ringing the church bell for the final time. Had God exacted a penitence for his refusal to destroy the abomination born this same day, nineteen years ago?

  The damage was almost too much to bear, not only for the fine old Norman church but to the decimated townsfolk of Douvrey.

  The priest collapsed outside his ruined church and wept at God for saving his life but not Doctor Colbert’s, Jean Busson, Francois Labiche, Monique and Lisette Rousseau and so many more. He sat there and mourned while the strange stifling storm grumbled over the horizon without sending a single drop of rain.

  ~~~~

  Several black Citroens were parked in the square. A very glum Inspector Gerard walked past a dismaying array of bodies shrouded in linen. His coat was smeared with blood. He walked past each corpse with a shake of his head. For the second time that day he gasped upon seeing the shattered skull of Doctor Colbert. His head slumped to his chest for a brief moment, mumbling a silent prayer for his close friend. Guilt welled up from his gut burning his throat.

  Gerard turned to see Father Papineau sitting beside the ruined church, head in his hands. He crossed the blood-spattered cobblestones.

  Inspector Gerard sat next to Father Papineau, placing a placating hand on the priest’s shoulder.

  Papineau jumped and grimaced. “Did you catch them, Inspector?”

  Gerard’s voice shook in unison with his hands, “I have just come from the asylum.” He saw the inquisitive glance from Papineau. “The news is not good, I’m afraid.” He saw the shock on Papineau’s face.

  “Not Henri?”

  Gerard confirmed with a nod.

  Fresh tears flowed down Papineau’s face.

  “The massacre at the asylum reminded me of The Somme. The killers were indiscriminate, both staff and patients alike were systematically executed.” He paused for a moment, not sure if he should mention the insane statements given by the two nurses he had rescued from the surgery. With a flat, listless voice, he continued, “Busson barely survived.”

  Papineau jolted at the wonderful news. “Busson is alive!” He looked to the heavens and silently thanked God, crossing himself.

  “He’s recovering at the hospital in Auxerre. He told me everything that occurred from the moment he rescued the witness right up to the atrocity at the asylum.” He paused, shaking his head with dismay. “Damn it to hell, Doctor Vernier lied to protect her and pa
id the ultimate price.”

  Gerard never liked Doctor Vernier but to be callously slaughtered like that jarred his very soul. He shook his head in remorse.

  “Did you find your missing Gendarmes?”

  “One is dead ... as for the other ... I have men searching the countryside right now ... but I don’t hold much hope for a favorable outcome.”

  ~~~~

  Father Papineau mourned his close friend, Henri. Who else could he argue with over the virtues of religion against the cold reasoning of psychiatry?

  For only the second time in his life Father Papineau decided to break the sanctity of the confessional. “This could all have been avoided, you know.”

  Gerard paused while in the process of lighting his pipe. “How so, Father?” He lit his pipe with shaking hands, puffing furiously to keep the tobacco alight.

  “If I had not agreed with Henri’s assessment of Lucien Dupont’s affliction, I am sure this tragedy could have been prevented,” Papineau said, wiping tears from his face. He saw the curious look from Gerard. “He suspected Lucien Dupont was merely displaying the behavior of normal teenage boys, if you know what I mean?” He waited for Gerard to give an understanding nod. “But, you see, the boy’s mother thought he was a vampire, possibly possessed by a demon ... and I knew there was more to it but kept it to myself ....” His voice trailed off with a fresh bout of tears preventing further conversation.

  Gerard stared aghast at the priest. “I have heard quite enough of this vampire nonsense. Preposterous!”

  Papineau became angry. “I assure you, Inspector, they were vampires.” He saw the incredulous glare on Gerard’s face. “Lucien was their Sire ... huh, still is for all we know?” He gave the Inspector an inquisitive look.

  Gerard blew out his cheeks along with a trail of smoke. “Lucien Dupont and the Negro have gone to ground.” He thought for a moment. “I have two men at the Moreau Chateau ... you never know.” He thought for a ponderous moment. “I don’t expect the murderers to return to their first crime scene ... but all precautions have to be taken.”

  Father Papineau nodded with the finality of it all. “Lucien’s mother came to me, desperate to help her son. I listened with mounting dread when she confessed her son’s addiction to drinking blood ... his love of that book, Dracula, and worst of all, his evil love for a young girl working at the chateau.”

  Gerard interrupted, “Busson insisted this Rose was born in his barn ... an unholy birth ... he kept babbling about the three sixes over and over ... and of course, he claims she was a vampire, along with Lucien and the Negro ... he saw their fangs.” He paused in thought on seeing Papineau’s shocked face. “He did ramble on somewhat incoherently about her powers ... no doubt due to the painkillers.”

  “You must believe me, Inspector. Busson speaks the truth.” He looked away in shame. “Lucien’s mother took Rose from the Auxerre Orphanage to become a servant at the chateau.” Papineau went red with embarrassment. “She became convinced the girl was unnatural, possibly possessed by the cycle of the full moon.” He cleared his throat. Papineau looked sad.

  “What are trying to say, Father?”

  “His mother believed father and son were the Devil.” Papineau shrugged on seeing the disbelief on Gerard’s face. He stopped short of confessing the illicit exorcism, even though Busson had mentioned it – some things in this world should stay between him and God.

  Gerard thought for a moment and said, “Hmm ... that’s it then ... this Lucien fellow and his gang must have been responsible for the Moreau murders.” He puffed on his pipe. “If only I knew this yesterday, perhaps this carnage could have been avoided.” He glanced furtively at the priest. “You are absolutely certain they were vampires?”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Father Papineau declared. “I saw their fangs ... we all did.”

  Gerard looked at the ruined church and shrugged with resignation. He puffed on his pipe and blew out smoke. “Damned if I know what I’m going to put in my report ... my superiors would have me locked up for mentioning vampires.”

  Chapter 59

  Eternal sat bolt upright disturbing Edouard’s vampiric slumber.

  “We must leave now!” she declared, her thoughts filled with desperation that were transmitted into Edouard’s mind. Groans and creaks of tortured timbers banished the silence.

  Edouard visualized the cellar ceiling collapsing without the central support. The weakened chateau trembled in its death throes. The increasing sounds of structural anguish sent a naked Eternal and Edouard leaping from the bed. Fear gripped them with images of the building entombing them, filling their minds with the need to escape.

  Eternal flung a wardrobe door open to reveal a dazzling array of haute couture. Snatching a familiar dress from its hangar, she slipped on the black Chanel number. Blue velvet trousers and a white silk shirt were tossed at Edouard who hurriedly slipped into them. She found several empty valises and filled them with clothes and shoes.

  They scrambled into the first floor hallway with their luggage and peered down into the gloomy grand hall from the balcony. Large cracks gradually crawled up the plaster work, snaking all the way to the ceiling. The noise was a crescendo of screaming wood and shattered plaster.

  Eternal’s music washed away the fear from Edouard’s mind. She gave him a reassuring glance.

  The stairs trembled and creaked in their death throes. Wooden floorboards bent, straining to remain intact before they splintered apart. Windows screeched with hairline cracks spreading like spiders’ webs then shattered, cascading shards of glass across the hall. Shafts of evening sunlight streaked through the haze of dust clouds swirling in the grand hall. To their horror, the hall floor cracked wide open and sank into the red froth in the cellar. A section of the left-hand stairs detached from the wall and wavered in mid-air before crashing into the swirling lake of blood-red wine below. The oak armoire trembled before sinking through shattering floorboards taking the cellar door with it.

  Edouard tossed the valises across the hall to land by the front door. He spun with fear.

  Eternal had gone rigid, a low moan of terror escaping her lips. She pointed.

  A hand with long black fingernails reached out from the dark pool of wine.

  Eternal gasped. She turned to Edouard with her mind. “We must use all our vampiric strength to rid us of Ba’al, the Lord of Lies. This demon is the only one that can defeat us.”

  Edouard cringed at the images inflicting his mind with Ba’al. Massacres on a grand scale, cities laid waste, bodies impaled on long spikes and Ba’al – standing tall, hideously hairy, drooling fangs, glowing eyes, leading his army of demons through the gates of Oblivion – the entrance to Khufu’s Great Pyramid.

  Edouard grimaced into her dark eyes and kissed her mind with his inner fire. He raced back into the bedroom and removed a sword from a fireplace display. It seemed only fitting that he face Ba’al in a duel to the death. He swished the sword through the air with a flourish just like he had seen in those swashbuckling films. He hugged his true love with all the confidence of an eternal vampire but faltered when he picked up her doubts.

  Edouard stepped back to see terror etched across Eternal’s face. He glanced down at the object of her fears to see Lucien staggering across what was left of the hall floor. He threw up copious amounts of wine then looked up with a grin.

  Lucien screamed, “You once promised to be mine forever. Now I will take all your blood.” He snarled with hatred. “You know I am stronger, superior in every way.” He laughed hysterically.

  Edouard jumped over the balustrade to the hallway far below and landed with a heavy thud, dipping low into a crouch. He stood erect and brandished the sword. He advanced, skipping nimbly around the beams of light.

  Lucien stepped forward, removing his Samurai blade from its scabbard. “You are no match for me, Lancelot ... or is it Paris now?” Lucien sliced the air with his sword. “You dance with the Devil ... you sleep with the Devil.” He lunged with
his deadly steel. “I am going to put you to sleep forever.”

  Edouard evaded him with ease. He instinctively knew how Lucien would attack. He sensed Ba’al’s hatred like a projector of dark images searing his inner eye with hearts ripped from chests, brains devoured and limbs torn asunder in a feeding frenzy. He saw his opponent as Vlad the Impaler staking out his victims and drinking their blood.

  Lucien whirled around to find Edouard behind him. A flicker of fear and confusion crossed his face.

  Ba’al screamed his anger at Lucien’s weakness, “Kill him!”

  Lucien grimaced and snarled, “Your pathetic vampire games don’t fool me, lover boy.” He feigned movement to the left then struck to his right.

  Yet again, Edouard had guessed his intentions and now stood behind him.

  Lucien spun around and attacked in a flurry of expert swordplay.

  Edouard parried each strike with little effort. He sidestepped Lucien’s increasingly desperate plays, tapping the blade aside with a flash of sparks.

  Lucien became enraged with Edouard’s adept swordsmanship. He changed tack and thought about attacking Eternal. He feigned a lunge coinciding with a massive tremor that split apart more floorboards. The sneaky ploy worked.

  Edouard was taken by surprise having to step away from the crack appearing between his legs.

  Lucien stabbed the Samurai blade into Edouard’s chest.

  Eternal screamed out, “Nooooooooooo!”

  Edouard stumbled and fell in slow motion into the wine lake now lapping the floorboards of the hallway giving Lucien just enough time to tug the blade from his chest.

  Eternal backed away from Lucien’s grinning advance.

  Lucien limped and stumbled to the remaining section of stairs hanging precariously by a few wooden rivets and heaved his body up each step with considerable pain.

  Edouard sank to the bottom of the wine lake for he had no air in his lungs to keep him afloat. He sensed Lucien’s deadly intent and could do nothing about it. Once more he had failed his beloved.

  Lucien faltered a mere sword’s distance from Eternal. A momentous groan filled the grand hall, the upper hallway slowly detaching from the wall.