The Blind Vampire Hunter

by Tim Forder

  “Actually, I was about to ask for directions to the little girl’s room,” Isabella answered, slipping a little shyness into her act.

  “Sure, sure ... it’s just past the kitchen, first door on your left as you enter the hallway. If you should miss it, you will end up in my bedroom.”

  Was that a blush blooming on your checks? Don’t tell me you are a virgin, Mr. Bowman. This could really be one special holiday dinner.

  Isabella almost purred, “Play your cards right, and we might just end up in there anyway.” That got his heart pumping and smell of the endorphins starting to flow as well. She left him, her ass waving sensuously to head in to the “little girl’s room” while considering a real surprise that would be in store for him before the evening’s end.

  In the lavatory, Isabella freshened up and removed her dress to display a little, black, baby doll number that would surely get his endorphins surging, if it doesn’t give him a heart attack first. She recalled how she actually did have a client die of a heart attack while feeding on him. The old man just got too excited. She had fed to her fill and left him dead in that dive of an apartment room that one rents by the hour, instead of by the night. When she left, she had made a point of enthralling the bellman who took their money and gave them the key to the room so he would not be able to remember her when the constables came.

  As she was leaving the room, she noticed that the door had a full-length mirror that showed nothing of herself, not even the way the nightie separated ever so slightly in the middle to nicely display her sexy black panties and her long, luscious bare legs. She was confident that if her legs were not as young and muscular looking as they felt, to her gentleman they would truly appear to be, due to her supernatural magic.

  When she entered the living room, she was disappointed not to find the man there to enjoy her surprise entrance. A voice from the kitchen announced, “I’ll be there soon. I can’t find the corkscrew for the wine.”

  As the noise of his routing around in the kitchen continued, she started looking at the titles of the books on the shelf. He had a large collection of horror and science fiction books, including a section of vampire tales. One of the hardbacks was entitled, “The Blood Countess.” She removed that from the shelf and found a picture of herself on the cover. It was an old picture, truly, from back in her living days. She remembered the long hours sitting for the large oil painting that was this cover art. She slipped the book beside her purse on the couch. She called out to the man in the kitchen, “Have you read this entire book collection on your library shelves?”

  “Not all, but most.”

  “What about all these vampire books?” she asked.

  “Oh yes, especially the vampire books, I’m a big fan of vampires.” He continued his rummaging while yelling out from the kitchen.

  “Phil, forget about the corkscrew. I really did not come for the wine,” Isabella announced. She quickly walked over to the couch that faced the kitchen so he would see her as he entered into the room from the hallway. He had not yet seen her, as the kitchen entrance had saloon-like bat doors, and he had been busy as she walked by the kitchen. Isabella made a point of not crossing her legs as he walked in. Now was not the time to be demure.

  As she waited for the entrance of her holiday meal, she noted that the fireplace was going, but she also noted that it was a false fireplace with a real fire burning within, she could smell the gas and hear the gas flowing, most likely a human would notice neither, noted both through her heightened vampire senses. Phil had probably started it with a flick of a switch. It did give off a nice warm glow, while giving warmth to the room, giving a feeling of a real fireplace.

  Just then Phil entered the room. When he saw Isabella, she thought he was about to faint. I guess this nightie still has it. Isabella noted that Phil had removed his suit coat, tie and had unbuttoned his shirt halfway down his chest. He had a very hairy chest. What a turnoff. He still looked as if he was going to faint, so Isabella instructed, “Phil, why don’t you come sit beside me.”

  Isabella was planning to make a nice evening of it until he showed off that horrid, hairy chest. When Phil started to come to her, she asked, “Phil, dear, please bring me that book on the other couch, the one sitting next to my purse.” He did as requested just like a faithful servant.

  Once he got seated, she noted that his heart was beating very hard. She figured that his endorphins were just gushing through his system, but Isabella thought, I’ll try to season my dinner just a little more. “Phil, look at the book cover and tell me what you see.”

  He obeyed as a well-trained servant. He started in with, “This is a great read. It’s all about this crazy bitch who tries staying young by killing off virgins and bathing in their blood.”

  “Yes dear, but look more closely at the cover, and tell me what you see,” Isabella said more commandingly.

  He looked at the cover of the book, then looked at Isabella. “You know, if you put your hair up, you would look a lot like this cover picture.”

  As he studied her face, Isabella smiled and let her fangs extract. Phil looked as if he was truly going to faint. That would not have ruined her dinner, but some of the seasoning would have been lost, so she ordered in her best enthrall voice, “Do not faint.”

  He did not faint.

  As a look of total horror contorted his face, Isabella slipped in close and kissed him. He shivered in shock. She moved her lips down, to the side of his neck, oh so lightly. Phil started shivering like a man with the black plague. Actually, he was just reacting to being a highly-seasoned dinner – endorphin and adrenaline overload for him, fine seasoning for her.

  Isabella so slowly, almost lovingly, slipped her fangs into his neck and began to shake in orgasmic pleasure as Phil’s properly seasoned blood gushed down her throat. He gushed so freely that she almost choked on the pure pleasure of tonight’s holiday meal.

  After Isabella had her fill of Phil, she shoved his drained, lifeless corpse aside to drop down onto the couch, where the momentum made him roll over and flop on the floor at her feet. After that slightly painful comment about “the crazy bitch” on the cover of her book, she had lost interest in Phil for anything but dinner.

  Originally, Isabella’s plans called for a night of multiple dining, all possible without doing any killing. Phil had changed those plans. Phil was so delightfully filling. It was too early to head back to her room, so she chose to enjoy the fake fire and read a good book about herself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Mole is Back

  After some very pleasant horizontal exercise with my wife, I rolled over for a bit of a nap. My tripping to dreamland was interrupted with Di feeling my back. Hasn’t that girl had enough?

  “Jack, your mole is coming back.” Diana’s voice was filled with concern.

  I could sense her anxiety, so I answered the concern in her voice, “The doctor said that was a possibility. I’ll just set up another appointment and have it removed again.”

  The next day, I did set up an appointment with the dermatologist. Having gone through having one mole removed, I was the cool, experienced one this time. I set up the appointment for a Friday afternoon in hopes that Diana could start her weekend a few hours early and take me to this appointment. My plans turned out to be workable with Di.

  Thursday evening the phone rang. I decided to let one of the sisters (Di or Chris) get it, as I was getting to a really good climax to the audio book I had been listening to for days. The vampire of this tale, a real she-beast was about to get hers.

  The great climactic ending was interrupted with Di calling down the stairs, “Jack, it’s your dermatologist on the phone. The doctor wants to talk to you.”

  “OK.” The phone was in easy reach, so all I had to do was turn off the audio book machine, pick up the phone and hit a big button that I recalled had “TALK’ on it. “Hello, this is Jack.”

  “Jack, this is Dr. Peterson. I understand you have an appointment with me to
morrow afternoon pertaining to a reemerging mole. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you can, I would like you to come down to the lab and have some blood work done. Today is Wednesday, and on Thursdays the lab is open evenings until 10 p.m. If you can get to the lab today, I’ll set it up so that I will have the results in my possession before you arrive for your appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

  Diana, still on the phone answered, “I can drive him down right now.”

  I thought, That’s my girl, but what I said was, “I’ll go get the blood tests done and see you tomorrow, doc.”

  “Fine, until then, have a good evening.”

  Right, a good evening sitting around the waiting room of the lab for an hour or two, then getting needled. I considered taking my audio book with me, but I hate earplugs, and people sitting around me might not have a strong enough stomach to overhear this great vampire tale. As Di called down, “Ready to go?” I decided to leave the book behind.

  “Coming,” I called back.

  Luckily, we only had to sit around for about an hour before I was called in to have blood taken. Di spent the time keeping Elaine happy. Chris had volunteered to watch Elaine while we were out, but Di wanted to take Elaine along, to give Di something to do in the waiting room.

  When I was called in to “the Vampire Room,’ my favorite name for the room where blood is taken, the med-techs were quick, proficient and almost painless—but not quite.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dr. Peterson

  The next day I was on time for my appointment. I was trying to play it cool, but Diana kept sharing horror stories that friends at church and at work had told her, stories with the person going through hellish treatments only to die of cancer anyway. I know my loving with meant well but too much information right now.

  Eventually, my wife’s string of loving nightmares ended with the nurse summoning me to see the doctor.

  As I walked up to the door, I heard the nurse’s voice so I asked, “OK if I take your shoulder?”

  Taking my outstretched hand and placing it on her shoulder, she answered, “No problem.” She led me down two hallways to an empty exam room. I couldn’t help but notice that the nurses were getting quite proficient at leading me around. I also noticed that this nurse had no bra strap under her uniform or under my touch.

  After the usual taking of my blood pressure, temperature, and pulse, Dr. Peterson finally made his appearance. He waited until he sat down before he said anything. This was not a good sign. “Mr. Poisner, you have signs of melanoma in your blood tests. This means that you must likely have stage IV melanoma. Stage IV is the hardest type to treat.” He paused to let that information sink in, and then he continued, “What we need to do now is to get you into a hospital for a total body scan to see where and how far the melanoma may have spread. I feel I must tell you this up front. The fact that the melanoma is spreading through your blood instead of through your lymph nodes is a very bad sign. BUT, don’t be picking out coffins just yet. Let us perform some hospital tests and see what we shall see. Any questions?”

  “Yes, what about treatment? How long have I (the words “to live” choked in my throat and never made it out)?” That was just two of a mass of swarming questions I could grab hold of and put to words.

  “Let’s just wait on that until after the body scans are available. Any other questions?”

  I was a little too freaked to verbalize any of the other questions tumbling over each other in my mind for now, “No. I guess we will just have to wait to see those hospital tests. When will that be done?”

  “I’ll have to make some calls and see when the machine is free. I will get in touch with you as soon as possible, but it may take a few days. How did you get to your appointment?”

  “My wife brought me.”

  “Would you like me to get a nurse to bring her in so I can discuss this with her?”

  Recalling all the horror stories she was just sharing with me, I answered, “No. I’d really like to keep this cool until we know more from the tests. Friends have already filled my wife with doom and gloom stories. I’d rather wait until we know more before bringing her into this.”

  “OK. Do you need me to help you back out to the waiting area?”

  “Yes, please.” So he did. By now I could normally find my way out on my own, but for some reason I just felt too mentally numb to do so this time.

  On the way home, Diana had lots of questions, but I kept to my guns that I should wait until after the hospital tests to begin to worry her. I kept to my guns until we got home. After she put the baby to bed for a nap, she walked into the bedroom and announced, “Spill it. What did the doctor have to say?”

  I spilled the beans. I told her of the doctor’s suspicions that I had cancer, but we would not know more until after I went to a hospital for additional body scans. With a forced tone of joviality, I made a point to mention the doc’s comment on not going out looking for a coffin. That may have been a mistake. By the catch in her breathing, I don’t think she was persuaded to stay calm until after the tests.

  I did share the stage IV diagnoses with Eric, and my concerns about the hellish treatments. When I added my thoughts of putting off the treatment, he could not pass up making me feel better by reminding me that his mother died of brain tumors as a result of her stage IV melanoma. When he started getting a bit too graphic as to what I might have to look forward to, I cut him off so I could try to get some sleep between now and the hospital test results.

  I failed—another sleepless night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nuts

  Paperwork, it never ends. There was a quiet presence in the office doorway, almost like that of a ninja (Have I seen too many of these imports?) He’d better have a really good reason for interrupting or...

  Looking up from my paperwork, I said, “Mr. Masterson, this must be a first, you coming to my office instead of requesting I see you in your plush owner’s office.” Isabella had choked down the first impulse to give the intruder a good verbal beating for interrupting her paperwork. Who are you kidding? You’d be tempted to give the intruder a raise for intruding your paperwork grief. But this is the boss; this has to be bad news.

  He disrupted her musings...

  “Remember the plumbing work in the ladies’ room, right next to my office? All that banging is giving me a headache.”

  “Would you like to use my office? I can get back to this paperwork after you are done here.”

  “Thank you, but I will be leaving soon. First I have some business to discuss with you.”

  I just know this is going to be bad news...

  “The other owners and I are getting very concerned over the recurring police presence required here during the showing of the import movies.” Pausing to let that sink in, he continued, “Don’t get me wrong. You are doing a great managing job. You’re handling these flare-ups very well, and we realize the problem is the violent nature of the imported movies. There has been a constant need for police presence AND the homicide department due to a number of killings around the theatre. Some of these homicides seem to have been customers who were killed after watching one of these imported movies here. Well, I thought I had to warn you that there is some discussion.”

  Just then the door crashed open.

  Jeff started in, but when he saw the boss with her boss, he visibly froze, possibly pondering if he just blundered into losing his job.

  “Well, what is it, boy?” Mr. Masterson orders.

  “We have nuts in the theatre,” Jeff almost stammers.

  “Nuts?” Mr. Masterson asks, perplexed.

  Isabella explained, “Nuts. This is a code for a customer using or flashing nunchucks in the theatre.” She turned her attention back to Jeff, “Red nuts?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Jeff answered.

  Getting into action by rushing out from behind the desk, “911 has been called?”

  “Yes, ma’am, Ben is placi
ng the call now.”

  With Mr. Masterson’s concerns put aside for now, Isabella rushed out of the office with Jeff in front for about a pace or two, then she quickly left him behind.

  As she rushed into the theatre, she saw a full blown mob scene with a group trying to rush not one, but two “nuts.” One was currently in the act of smacking a would-be hero in the side of the head. As Isabella ran in and saw what was happening, the would-be hero dropped like so much lumber piling up at the feet of the “nuts.” Currently the second “nut” was content in just standing by, waving his nunchucks around and around his body, showing off.

  Using her best enthrall voice, she commanded, “This stops now.”

  On her command, the mob scene turned into a freeze frame. This freeze frame, which included both “nuts,” ceased their dangerous actions.

  The more dangerous “nut,” the one who wasn’t just standing around showing off, challenged her, “You want some of this?” The mob backed off with the relief of seeing some authority intervening into this hazardous situation.

  Deliberately keeping eye contact with both “nuts,” she approached slowly like a snake considering its next meal, slowly, cautiously, but in command. The two just stood watching her every move as she kept moving in, showing by her approach that she was the one in command.

  The enthralled silence was interrupted by the audible intrusion of sirens from forthcoming law enforcement, EMS or both.

  With the help of the audible distraction, the enthrall ended. The lumber jack of bloody bodies jumped over his log pile of downed bodies, with the full intent of making Isabella yet another (dead?) log for his pile. He brought his weapon down on her head.

  Isabella, timing it right, just stepped to the side. She reached out and grabbed the weapon on its downward arc, originally intended to cleave her head in two. The action of Isabella grabbing the weapon with one hand surprised the nut. With her supernatural quickness it was quite easy to pull the weapon out of the “nuts” grasp. With the “nut” frozen in shock it was even easier work to karate chop him into unconsciousness, more lumber for the floor.