While Herb wrestled for self-control, the man’s head slowly returned to an upright position. His face was slack, almost peaceful. Almost. Like he was about to fall into a deep, irresistible sleep but desperately wanted to stay awake. Herb quickly bit his finger, the sharp pain helping to bring his whirring mind back under control. Rubbing it over the twin wounds in the man’s neck, he then licked his thumb and used it to scrub away the smears of blood until the skin looked mostly clean again. Taking the man by the shoulders, he gave a gentle shake to ensure he had his complete attention.
“Uff dah. Ok! That was something. Wow. You’re tasty.” Herb shook his head again, tried to stay on topic.
“So, I guess we should wrap this up. OK. Here’s what happened. You wanted to get a little air, right?”
“Air,” the man sleepily agreed.
“And uh, that’s it. You had a smoke. Cleared your head a bit. You didn’t see anyone. Just a quick smoke, and now you’re gonna head back in, settle your tab and call it a night.”
“Night,” he offered with a faint smile.
Hoping he’d done it right, Herb gave a quick nod. “Ok then. Um. Good night. And thanks. So. Right. See ya.” With a last probing look deep into the man’s eyes, Herb fought down the impulse to take one more sip, just a little chaser, a nightcap, if you will. Instead, he took his hands off the man’s shoulders and slowly backed away, holding the man’s gaze as he drifted backward into the shadows, waggling his fingers for good effect.
“I was never here. You never saw me. You won’t remember... OH SHIT!”
The rock caught the back of his heel, sent him flailing backward, arms wind milling as he dropped onto his rear. He froze like a raccoon in a spotlight, heart thumping. The man looked at the shadows Herb was sitting in, eyes returning from some far-off place. Comprehension followed as his eyes widened in fright and a hand flew to the side of his neck.
“You... you bit... who are you? Goddammit, you bit me! You bit...”
The crack of a snapped spine split the air like a rifle shot. Herb’s hands trembled as they gripped the man’s head, holding the body up like a limp puppet. What the hell just happened? His eyes refocused as he looked furtively around. Voices from inside the bar were uncomfortably close. Acting more on instinct than with deliberate intent, he slung the lifeless man over his shoulder and ran into the trees. Sighting a fallen oak, he dumped the body to the ground and shoved it half under the trunk. After pushing leaves and dirt up around the body, he crashed through the brush and finally reached his car. Only when he was safely back inside the Pinto did he dare make a sound.
“Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap,” he repeated, a mantra of horror and disbelief as he drove off into the night. He was completely, totally vamped.
Chapter 24
Herb drove, manic with fear, zigging and zagging through the backwoods, watching the rearview for the inevitable red and blue flashing lights. It was hard to stay panicked, though. The guilt of murdering the stranger dwindled, eclipsed by a dark euphoria. He had to keep reminding himself that he’d killed someone, actually killed a guy. Then the panic would spark again, he’d drive faster, cast frantic glances at the rearview. Had he been able to cast a reflection, it would’ve shown the whites of his eyes ringed in blood red. It wasn’t sustainable, though. No matter how hard he tried to stay scared or be appalled at himself, it would dwindle. How could he be scared when he felt so powerful, so alive? Soon he was simply driving instead of fleeing while someone else’s blood sang in his veins, and had pulled into Nekked’s parking lot before he even realized he had a destination.
Helen of Troy was on stage as Herb paid ten bucks at the door and walked in. “Wild Thing” pumped through giant speakers hung in the corners, and strobes cast shifting, multi-colored light across her very naked body. Her eyes instantly locked onto Herb, something he found disorienting given the fact that she was hanging upside down, her long, shapely legs wrapped firmly around a chrome, floor-to-ceiling pole. Her smile was one part playful, two parts devious and entirely for Herb. She slid the rest of the way down the pole, rolled gracefully onto her stomach, pushed herself forward and arched her back as she extended her arms. Boobs? he asked himself. Boobs, his eyes confirmed with awe. Teeth barred in a mock-growl, she started to crawl forward across the stage, oblivious to the truckers, frat boys, business travelers and other assorted men watching in rapt fascination. They whistled and yelled, most waving ones and fives, the high-rollers waving tens. Spinning around onto her behind and leaning back, she scissored her legs. Pulling them back into her chest, she rolled gracefully into a crouch and slid her hands from ankles to thighs, up her tummy past the sparkling little gem in her navel. Twisting her arms elbows out, she continued to draw the backs of her hands up past her bare breasts, past her wicked smile. Stretching her arms in a Y above her head, she cat-walked toward the front edge of the stage, each step slow and deliberately sensual, knee raised high, stiletto heel placed inches in front of fuchsia toenails. Helen plucked bills from outstretched hands, but her eyes never left Herb’s as he stood frozen in the middle of the room. Using the convenient shoulders of two front-row fans, she lowered herself to the floor. Stiletto heels still clicking in time to the music, she strode across the room toward Herb. Pulling up within inches of having her breasts brush his chest, she looked into his eyes and smiled.
“You came.”
Herb involuntarily looked down before catching himself. “No! I mean not yet. I mean, yes! I’m here. I came here. And you’re... here.”
“Yes I am,” she purred, taking his hand. She led him across the room, past a red velvet rope, into a section clearly marked V.I.P. and toward a couch surrounded by thick curtains. Shouts of “Atta boy!” and “Lucky bastard!” followed, but Herb was oblivious to everything except Helen’s bare behind and the hand that held his, drawing him further into a Penthouse letter.
The whistles and cheers faded as Helen pushed Herb back on the couch and turned to draw the curtains. Sound still reached them inside the semi-private booth, but it was muffled and indistinct, strands of fuzz wrapped around pounding bass. An amber glass lantern was suspended over the space, casting a warm glow and unusual shadows down on Helen as she moved toward him, all sensuous curves and seductive smiles. Looking up at Helen as she crawled on top of him, he couldn’t help but think that not only could she launch a thousand ships, but make damn sure that all their sails were at full-mast.
Climbing him like a jungle gym, Helen’s body moved in ways Herb wouldn’t have believed possible. His attention was torn between rapt fascination and shoring up his wavering self-control. His fangs kept snicking into place, requiring a tremendous effort of will to make them go away, only to have them pop right back as Helen doused him with wave after wave of raw sexuality. Herb kept his mouth stubbornly shut, causing his nostrils to flare as he fought to keep from panting in desire. For her own part, Helen, was so completely engrossed in the lap dance, eyes half closed as she turned, slid, twisted, thrust her way over and around him that she didn’t seem to notice Herb’s internal struggle. Making things even more difficult was the unshakeable feeling that some strange undercurrents were at work, pulling and shifting below their skins. Why had he come here? The obvious answer was stark naked and doing her best to make sure he had an unobstructed view of every square inch of her skin. But there was something more. Beyond the raw physical chemistry, something darker, deeper swam in lazy, dangerous circles.
“...so cold. C’mon baby, can’t you warm me up? Just a little?”
Herb had been so lost in her body and his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized Helen was whispering, her breath hot on his ear, his neck, his cheek.
“I’m hungry. C’mon Herby. I knew you were going to come, I knew you’d warm me up, feed me. I need it, baby. I need you...” Helen purred, her sultry voice laced with a brittle edge.
Of their own volition, Herb’s hands slid out, gripped her thighs, and traced their shapely form. Oh gosh, this has gotta be against t
he rules, a small part of his mind protested, the old, weak Herb that always had to park in the back and never got the cheddar puffs, much less the girl. But that voice was getting harder and harder to hear. In its place, the whispers were growing. As they grew and twined through his mind, his hands moved up and down her thighs, around her back, pulling her in closer and closer.
“What’d you say sweetie? Oooh, yeah. You can tell me. You don’t need to whisper. You’re here now, I’m here. There’s no one else... Tell me, tell me you want it too.”
Herb’s hands paused. “But I ah, didn’t say anything...”
She kissed him then, hard, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Without thinking, he responded and kissed her back. He heard a faint snick and felt a sharp pinch on his tongue, followed by the warm, familiar, enrapturing taste of salt and iron. Blood. His blood. His tongue was bleeding and suddenly the kiss had become something else, something primal. Helen’s body has ceased its sensual pulsing and was pressed hard against him, her hands on his face as she sucked on his tongue, as she drank his blood.
Herb pulled back with a “Wooahhh!” Eyes wide in shock, he looked up at Helen’s face. The amber lamp was behind her, casting her face in shadows but her eyes held a faint glow, like fool’s gold in the moonlight. Her lips were dark red against pale, smooth skin, and her fangs were...
“Holy shit!” Herb tried to scurry back, but was effectively sandwiched between the couch and Helen, her thighs straddling him, her hands now pressed against his shoulders as she arced back a bit, her head tilted quizzically to the side.
“Oh baby, what’s wrong? I just wanted a little taste. I need it, baby. I need you.” She pouted as she wiped at a drop of blood in the corner of her mouth with a finger, and then slowly licked it clean. “I’m hungry,” she whispered in a petulant tone. “Do you have any meat?”
“You’re a.. but you’ve got... but how’d that...” Herb’s earlier arousal thrust into a dunk tank full of ice, he gasped and sputtered as his muddled brain tried to absorb the situation.
“Shhhh,” she purred, leaning back in, heavy breasts against his chest, head nestling into his shoulder. Helen’s now-licked-clean finger started tracing lazy patterns through his hair, the back of his neck as she spoke. “Let’s get out of here. I’m hungry.”
Herb nodded mutely, completely at a loss of what he should do, but firmly convinced Nekked’s wasn’t the right place for doing it.
“What’s that? C’mon Herb. You really need to speak up a little,” she cooed playfully. “There’s no need to keep whispering.”
“But I didn’t... Oh. Right. Huh. I just, um. Said that we should. Probably go. Out. Somewhere.”
Her smile went from jack-o’-lantern to simply wide as he watched her fangs shrink back to normal incisors. Taking him by the hand, she led him from the couch, out the side of the curtained booth, along the dark back wall of the club to a small, black door near the stage. Slipping through the door, she pulled Herb into a place he didn’t know actually existed, a place where all the women were gorgeous and none of them wore clothes.
Still leading him by the hand, Herb’s head swiveled, unable to stop himself from looking at one wall adorned with feather boas, French Maid costumes, leather bustieres and sparkly patches of sequence held together with gossamer thin strings, the other lined with vanity mirrors occupied by women in various stages of undress applying makeup and primping their hair. High heels and knee-high boots were scattered haphazardly across the floor. Helen made her way cat-like through the narrow room, Herb following in a stupor.
“How many times do we have to tell you? No boys, Helen!” a brunette called over her shoulder.
“Shove it, Brittany. We’re just heading out back.” Helen’s voice had switched from purrs and promises to sharp-edged ice. The brunette turned back to the mirror, huffing a comment about double-D’s and entitlement issues. Helen’s eyes glowed dangerously for a split-second and Herb’s breath caught in his throat, but she just kept walking through the dressing room toward a large door marked “Fire Exit” in the back.
Grabbing a deep red satiny robe, Helen wrapped it around her shoulders and cinched the front closed, no modest feat given the smallness of the robe and largeness of her breasts. Technically, her nakedness had been concealed, but the result was even more alluring. Herb grunted in surprised annoyance as he felt another snick. Helen just smiled a too-wise smile, pushing open the back door and drawing him outside. The warm night air cleared his head a little and he glanced around at his surroundings. Behind the strip club was a small patio, surrounded by a high privacy fence and lit by a single bulb, moths circling the light like tiny versions of the men inside circling the stage. A small picnic table listed to the side, topped with an overflowing ashtray and surrounded by a smattering of mismatched lawn chairs. One of the chairs was occupied by a fiery redhead wearing a black version of Helen’s red robe. Long fingers held a cigarette to her lips, cherry glowing.
“New flavor of the week, huh Helen,” she asked with a devilish grin. “Looks yummy.”
Helen’s sultry smile turned predatory. “Oh hi, Candy. Why yes, I do have a new flavor, but it isn’t him. I’m craving something a little sweeter.”
Stiletto heels clicked and satin swished as Helen closed the distance to the other girl. Before Herb could register what was happening, Helen pounced. Candy spasmed and squealed in shock as fangs pierced deep into her neck. Helen climbed on top, a gruesome parody of the countless lap dances happening inside. As Helen drank more deeply, Candy ceased her struggles and went limp in the resin chair.
Herb stood frozen in shock, unable to process the scene unfolding before him. After a minute or two, Helen arched her back, robe parting to expose a heavy breast. A thin rivulet of blood was working its way down her chin and neck to her cleavage.
“Holy crap that’s good. So, so good. Herb, you gotta try some,” she offered with a bloody smile.
Herb felt stretched to breaking. The whispers roared, his nostrils flared with the scent of fresh blood and his pulse pounded with desire. He took a tentative step forward when the panic and fear he thought he’d escaped earlier swooped in like a murder of crows, wheeling and clawing around his head. This isn’t right, some small part of him cried. He’d taken hours to plan his hunt, and never meant to hurt anyone. For Helen to just attack like that, to just pounce like some wild beast just wasn’t ok. Was it?
Trembling, he reversed course and stepped back and back again until he thudded against the wall of the strip club. Hands clenching and unclenching, arms trembling, fangs aching, he managed to shake his head from side to side.
Helen leaned in close to Candy, turned the listless girl’s face toward him. Her hand slid down Candy’s cheek, slid inside her robe, stroked and caressed. Candy moaned softly and closed her eyes. Helen’s hand continued to explore while her glowing eyes devoured Herb.
“You sure?” she purred. When Herb remained frozen against the wall, she shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just remember later when you grab someone that I offered to share.” With a playful wink, she slid back on top of Candy, pressed full lips to the side of her neck and continued to drink.
It might’ve been a minute. I could’ve been an hour. Herb had lost all sense of time as he watched Helen feed. Finally, she pulled back with a long, satisfied sigh. Climbing off the semi-conscious Candy, she stretched her arms above her head and gave a most unladylike burp. “Oh that was good. You really should’ve had some.”
Herb’s thoughts started to finally coalesce into some semblance of order. Candy was still alive, her chest rising and falling slightly while her eyes roamed aimlessly from Helen to Herb to the moths circling the light bulb over the door.
“She’s still. I mean, you gotta. You’re gonna whammy here now, right?” Herb asked hopefully, voice cracking.
Helen gathered up a fistful of Candy’s red trusses, pulled the girl limply to her feet and dangled her above the patio for a moment before giving her head a violent shake. The snap
of a spine, a sound he’d hoped to never hear again, rapped sharply against his ears.
“What’s a whammy?” Helen asked, genuine confusion on her face. As she released the girl’s hair, the now lifeless body fell in a tangle to the patio floor. “Be a dear and clean that up. I put the other ones in the dumpster out back. There should still be room.” Helen wiped her lips and licked her fingers. “OK sweetie, I’m just gonna duck inside and get a little color, then we can get outta here. I’ll just be a minute.” Sauntering past Herb, she swung open the door to the club, sliding her robe off as she walked inside, giving Herb a parting glimpse of her shapely behind before the door shut completely.
Panic finally thawed his frozen muscles. Not knowing what else to do, Herb crossed to the body on the ground and rolled the dead girl onto her back. Gently, he closed the front of her robe and pushed bright red strands of hair back from her face. Candy looked almost serene, as if the violence of the past few minutes had never happened and she was simply sleeping peacefully. Choking back a sob, Herb lifted her easily. Even without his vamped up strength, she hardly weighed a thing. Red tears welled up as he shouldered open the door in the privacy fence and spotted the open top dumpster squatting in the shadows. Walking toward it, his keen nose made sense of Helen’s earlier comment. Reaching the dumpster, he looked inside and saw two 20-something guys sprawled across bags of empty bottles and trash. One’s shirt had been ripped in half, his chest scored with deep red welts. The other’s UW Badgers hoodie was soaked in what Herb already knew was blood, and both necks were bloody ruins.
Monsters in the Midwest ( Book 1): Wisconsin Vamp Page 13
