The Kindred

by L. L. Foster

  His hands shook, and that infuriated him. He needed to be precise to expedite the problem.

  And to mete out punishment.

  Marginally composed, he faced the small crowd of four. “Our meal has escaped.”

  At his announcement, panicked inhalations sounded.

  The man behind him sidled away to join the others, feeling a false sense of safety in numbers. Fools. Idiots.

  Eyes burning and fury thrumming, Fabian studied the five of them, trying to divine the guiltiest. “One of you is to blame.”

  Nervous murmurs whispered in the air. The group tightened.

  “Who saw her last?” Fabian asked.

  Three men and one woman looked to the young nurse. She blanched and shook her head in frantic denial.

  Fabian saw it in her eyes. Ah, yes. She was the one who’d fucked up his plans and put them all at risk.

  She’d been appointed with obtaining the anticoagulants for their captive. Obviously, she couldn’t go free. Not now.

  He swelled with resolve. “Shari, isn’t it?”

  She tried to back up, but ran into the others. “Yes.” Her gaze shot this way and that, seeking an avenue of escape. Conspicuous culpability trembled through her limbs.

  Fabian smelled her intoxicating fear. He breathed it in and let it infuse his objective, transforming him and how he reacted to the loss.

  Holding out a hand toward her, he commanded softly, “Come here, Shari.”

  The others shuffled back, anxious to separate from the realm of punishment. Shari went pale enough for alarm; if she fainted, what fun would that be?

  Annoyed by her lack of immediate obedience, Fabian snapped, “Bring her to me.”

  The others showed the extant deference he expected. Against her frail protests, they dragged Shari to stand right before him.

  While she remained contained by human fetters, Fabian touched her face. “Lying will only exacerbate my temper, child. I suggest we get through this peaceably. Yes?”

  Eyes flared so that the whites showed all the way around, Shari gave a faint nod.

  “Excellent.” Fascinated, Fabian touched the wildly throbbing pulse in her throat. Her blood pumped hard, inciting him, pressing him to haste. “You gave her the anticoagulants?”

  A fat, glistening tear slid down Shari’s cheek. Lips quivering, she nodded. “Yes.”

  The most appealing facet to Shari’s personality was her extraordinary urge to give pleasure to men. Offered the opportunity, she would willingly scar herself just to make a man smile.

  Knowing this, Fabian stroked her hair. “You’ve been a valuable asset to me, Shari. I hope you know that.”

  “I try,” she said, and gratitude seeped color back into her pallid face.

  “Tell me now, how did she get free?” Fabian did his utmost to sound sympathetic. “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. I would never have let her go without your permission.”

  “Of course not.” He smiled. “What happened?”

  No longer straining against the hard hands gripping her, Shari relaxed. “I gave her the anticoagulant, as you said to do, and she revived enough to tell me how uncomfortable she was. Because her arms were chained up too high, her toes barely reached the floor.”

  A vivid image flooded his brain. “She was straining? Her muscles stretched taut?” A curl of lust slithered into his guts. Such a delicious picture she would have made.

  “Yes.” Shari lowered her eyes in apology. “I only unfastened the main chain so I could loosen it to give her more slack.”

  As if cattle needed comfort? An edge entered his tone. “And?”

  Frowning as if she still didn’t quite understand how it had happened, Shari swallowed. “She took me by surprise, Fabian. She was stronger than I expected, given the state of her body.”

  “Fear is a potent thing.”

  “That must be it, because she struck me and ran, yanking the chain right out of my hand. I was dazed. I swear, Fabian. I tried to go after her, but my head was spinning . . . ”

  “My poor girl.” Sifting his fingers through her hair, over her skull, Fabian located a large lump. “Oh my. She did strike you hard, didn’t she?” He pressed a thumb to the spongy lump and felt Shari flinch with pain.

  “I . . . I think the wrist manacle got me. It felt like she’d hit me with a pipe.”

  Working his thumb over the painful swelling, he saw her eyes water, her lips tighten.

  But she didn’t protest. Not Shari. No, if he wanted to hurt her, if he took enjoyment in that—and he did—then she would suffer him gladly.

  Stupid bitch. She took all the fun out of his torment.

  Annoyed with her silent submission, Fabian brought his hands down to her throat, encircled the slim white column with an unnerving lack of haste. “How long ago was this, my dear?”

  His kind tone led her to misunderstand the precarious-ness of her position. “Maybe an hour or more. I’m not certain.”

  Alarm jolted him. Much could happen in an hour. If the cow hadn’t died in the street, if she’d made it to the police to bleat about her abuse, they could all be collared. Even now, teams of cops could be circling the house.

  Pulling his lips back from his teeth, Fabian rasped, “And you didn’t think to alert me right away?”

  She tried to draw away, and couldn’t. “I . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry—”

  “Apology not accepted.” He smiled—and tightened his hands until her eyes bulged, until her lips parted and she gagged for air. But he wouldn’t offer her such an easy death, so he loosened his grip. “You do realize that you have put us all at risk, don’t you?”

  “She was bleeding out,” Shari gasped. Her nails dug at the backs of his hands, but to no avail. “Fabian, please. She was weak, too weak to get far.”

  “Strong enough to escape you, though?” He wanted to snap her neck. He wanted to drain her of every ounce of her blood and then quarter her flesh for a later feast.

  Common sense prevailed.

  Jerking his hands away before he changed his mind, he allowed her to sink to the floor, sobbing in pity. He wanted to kill her, and he wanted to sate his ever-growing hunger. But if he killed her here, he’d not only waste precious time better spent escaping, he’d also have the added burden of moving her so that she couldn’t be used as evidence against him.

  Allowing her to live—for now—meant she would carry her own weight in their rush to vacate the premises.

  “All of you, listen to me. Shari made a near-unforgivable mistake, but forgive her we shall.” He smiled down at her, and the brainless twit wilted with pleasure at his benevolence.

  Sickening. At the earliest opportunity, he would dissect her heart and use it to season gravy.

  Drawing a deep breath for clarity, Fabian redirected his talents. “Our efforts must now be concentrated on destroying this site.”

  Always, as a precaution, he kept tools nearby to use in just such emergencies. Now they would come in handy.

  “Get the fuel canisters stored out back. Pour gasoline in the basement. Be certain to douse anything that might hold fingerprints. When that is done, torch it, and get out. I’ll contact you later with further instructions. Make it quick.”

  When Shari started to move away, Fabian grabbed her arm. “Not you.” Leading her toward the back door where he would make a safe escape, Fabian explained, “You will remain by my side.”

  She licked her lips with nervousness. “You require something of me?”

  Dark red bruises encircled her throat, and a definite rasp sounded in her voice, but she wanted only to gain his favor. Pathetic bitch.

  With every second, his loathing of her escalated. “Yes, I want you near me where I can ensure you won’t err again.”

  “Oh.” Crestfallen at the mild rebuke, she dropped her head and wrapped her arms around herself, following him in silence.

  Someone had treated her poorly, someone male, and now she lived only to serve men. Would s
he willingly give him her blood?

  Probably. He’d test that theory once he had them both safely away from the house.

  After reaching the reasonably secure position of his vehicle, Fabian and Shari got inside. Watching for any sign of detection, he drove down the empty gravel road to the main street where he blended in with other drivers.

  Putting the car in park, he turned to look back through the rear window.

  Through the darkness of the night, he detected the flicker of flames in the windows of the old house. Before long, raging fire consumed the building, licking through the roof and sending smoke to billow into the sky.

  Somewhere in the distance, sirens went off. Soon the fire department would be on hand.

  But they’d be far, far too late to find anything valuable. Only ashes would remain.

  “Where will we go now?” Shari wanted to know.

  Fabian put the car in drive and eased into traffic. “I’ll take you someplace to freshen up.” Not his home; never that. He kept his private abode sacred of the foul idiots who so recklessly followed his lead. “And then, my dear, you can begin your efforts at making amends.”

  Sexual interest darkened her eyes and spiked her breaths. “I would relish the opportunity to show my remorse.”

  “Of course you would.” Fabian favored her with an utterly false smile. With her big innocent eyes and vulnerable demeanor, Shari would help him to gain the trust of the young girl. And once he had her trust, he would enslave her and present her as a gift to the others.

  As one, they would commit the gravest sin, an orgy of taboo wickedness, and in that act, he would cement his dominance over them, and secure them all as his slaves.

  Filtered sunlight penetrated the bedroom drapes, announcing the dawn of a new day. Gaby stared toward the ceiling, watching dust motes dance in a stray sunbeam. All along her side, her skin tingled in awareness of Luther’s proximity. After hours of sexual indulgence, he’d fallen asleep with a protective arm draped around her midriff, one heavy thigh over both of hers.

  Through a remarkable infusion of carnal stimulation, he had obliterated her unease.

  But the night was long, hours had passed, and the conviction that an anomalous personal defect tied her to a grotesque monster gnawed on Gaby’s peace of mind.

  Luther stirred, stretched, drew her closer. Voice rough and deep, he murmured, “Good morning.”

  He sounded so pleased with himself, and with her. She knew men enjoyed sex, so he’d probably appreciated her method of cure.

  Gaby turned her head to look at him. “Thank you for last night.”

  Sexy bristles covered his jaw, his chin, and upper lip. He leaned in and kissed her, soft and light, then rolled to his back and stretched again.

  Going up on one arm, Gaby looked at him. He had the most impressive chest, at least to her. In fact, his entire body seemed designed to push her buttons. Before Luther, no man had physically impressed her.

  “Today is going to be rough.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “I need coffee before you tell me anything horrendous.”

  Gaby scowled, but the pinch in her brows faded as he sat up on the side of the bed, giving her a seductive view of his broad back and firm backside.

  She sat up, too, and though it stunned her, her attitude softened. “We have time for coffee.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He pushed off the bed and strode into the bathroom.

  Grumbling to herself over his cavalier attitude, she left the bed and headed for the kitchen. She was far from domestic, but she could put together a pot of coffee.

  However, the longer Luther took, the more her agitation rippled and surged. She listened as he showered, heard him dressing, and a minute later he strode into the kitchen, but pulled up short to find her naked.

  Paused in the doorframe, he devoured her with a look, shook his head, and smiled. “We need to get you a house-coat.” He walked up to her and touched her face. “How did you sleep?”

  “Good.”

  “Not cold this morning?”

  She shook her head. “Luther—”

  He put a finger to her mouth. “Whenever possible, coffee first.” He got down two cups.

  His mood today confounded her. “Nothing has changed, you know. The evil is still out there.”

  “An evil that we’ll catch. I have faith in that.” He took two worshiping sips of his coffee, made a sound of pleasure, and sat down in a kitchen chair. “Okay, I think I’m ready. Let’s start with what had you so upset last night.”

  Not an unreasonable suggestion, but she felt pressed to clarify. “I wasn’t upset.”

  “Course not.” He sipped more coffee.

  Her agitation growing, Gaby got her own coffee and leaned back on the counter.

  “I wasn’t upset. But I did need to burn off steam.”

  “Because?” he prompted.

  Infuriated with his attitude, Gaby jerked out her own chair and sat opposite him. “Several reasons. It pisses me off to like Ann in spite of myself.”

  “She’s a likeable person. And since there’s nothing of a romantic nature between her and I, you have no real reason to dislike her.”

  Reason had nothing to do with her jealousy, so she let that jibe slide. “It really had me irked that you deceived me and left me in the dark.”

  “I do apologize for that.” He took her hand, ran his thumb along her knuckles. “I promise, whenever possible, I won’t do it again.”

  Whenever possible? She pulled away from him and curled her fingers into a fist. “And then to see all that crazy shit at the rave . . . God, Luther, I wanted to kill some people, I really did. And I could have.” She put her arms around herself and slouched in her chair. “You know that.”

  “I do know it.” He looked down at his coffee cup, but brought his gaze right back to hers again. “I want you to know how much I appreciate it that you handled things so well.”

  “But you think you could have done better without me there?”

  He studied her for several seconds before speaking. “You’re being honest, so I’ll try to do the same.” After finishing off his cup of coffee, he stood to get more. At the coffeepot, his back to her, he said, “You did great, Gaby. You gave Fabian just the right attitude to keep him interested, and to convince him that you were on a par with him.”

  She turned in her seat to face him. “I am on a par with him.” Her chest tightened. “And that’s the biggest part of what had me so itchy in my own skin.”

  “No.” Forgetting the damn coffee, Luther reached for her hands and drew her out of the seat. “Not for a single second do I want you to think you have any semblance to a lowlife cretin like Fabian.” He cupped her face. “You infuriate me, and you take things to extremes, usually well outside legal limits. But your purpose is always to protect innocents, not take sick pleasure in torturing them for your amusement.”

  As her agitation grew, Gaby had to accept that it wasn’t only her association to Fabian. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  Standing still proved impossible, so she paced away from Luther, but quickly returned to the comfort of his nearness. “It’s difficult to explain, but I recognized him on some other level. You saw how he looked at me, that he thought we were acquainted.” Her muscles began to tighten. “I think he’s right.”

  Luther rubbed her shoulder, showing his concern. “Maybe you met him during one of your foster home stays. He could have been—”

  “No.” Before he’d even finished voicing the possibility, Gaby shook her head. “I never connected with any of them. My stays were short-lived and, for the most part, the people who tried to take me in just ignored me. We sure as hell never bonded.”

  “Maybe he was a member of Father Mullond’s congregation?”

  Mentions of Father, the priest who had first shared her burden, always perturbed her on a deep level. “Evil is not influenced by morality, so I doubt Fabian is a churchgoer. But it wouldn’t matter, because I barely a
ttended myself. Father tried, but . . . ” She sent a narrow-eyed look at Luther. “God and I have a more personal relationship. It’s not meant to share with the masses.”

  Luther nodded. “Then where have you met him?”

  “I don’t know that I have. What I felt wasn’t a simple recognition. It was more than that.” When she’d looked at Fabian, neared him, awareness had beset her in a panoply of impressions, both emotional and physical. “It’s a connection, a bond of some kind. I understand him, Luther. I feel him, know him.” Her head pounded, and she closed her eyes tight to admit, “I’m . . . drawn to him.”

  He showed his dislike of that in the stiffening of his shoulders and the edge in his tone. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Gaby pressed a fist under her breast as if she could remove the ache in her heart. “But I feel it, I know it’s real. And I have no idea what to do about it.”

  Chapter 13

  Luther pulled Gaby into his arms. When she would have pushed free, he hugged her tighter. “I need it,” he said near her ear, “whether you do or not.”

  At that, she subsided and returned the embrace with enough force to make his ribs ache.

  God, what now? How the hell did he handle this?

  If he tried to keep Gaby from investigating further, she’d buck big-time. Gaby was not a woman to be ordered around or contained. But if she got close to Fabian, would he have an unnatural hold over her?

  The crazy fuck drank the blood and ate the flesh of humans. How the hell could Luther let him get anywhere near Gaby?

  Hoping to reason with her, Luther cupped her face. “Listen, honey, I know you’re tough as nails. I swear I do. But—”

  Luther’s cell phone rang, halting him in mid-sentence and bringing on a low curse of vexation.

  “Better check that,” Gaby suggested as she wormed out of his embrace to grab more coffee.

  One glance at the number showed Ann calling. Without mentioning that to Gaby, Luther clicked the TALK button and said, “Yeah?”

  “Surly, huh?” With her usual good humor absent, Ann said, “Well shake it off, partner. Something big has come up and I need you.”