Bloodlust (Frailty Book 2)

by Baker, Alex

  Moving deftly, she disappeared, becoming one with the dark. If what he said was true and not a bluff, and other pack members would be keeping tabs on her, then she needed to move quickly and discretely before Roofy came looking for her and walked right into the wolves’ den.

  24

  A thorny branch poked into Roofy’s backside as he squatted for cover near the corner of the attached one-car garage. He shifted some in an attempt to dislodge the irritating pinch, but his movements only succeeded in catching another of the obscenely sharp thorns on his pants, adding to his discomfort.

  “Der’mo,” he cursed softly, purposely keeping his voice low as he swore. Despite the intrusive shrubbery and his waning patience, the big Russian was determined to wait out his target; that meant maintaining a low profile.

  Under the cover of darkness, he had slipped into the yard and believed he had not been noticed by any of the neighbors. The judgment was based on the fact that no police had arrived yet.

  Finding the home had been easy enough. After that, he had scoped it out and determined that most of the wear-and-tear left by car tread indicated his target usually parked in her garage. That was where he would make his move.

  Now, legs and back aching from the uncomfortable position he had held for almost two hours, he was beginning to question his plan. He was not the only one.

  “You deserve those briars in your ass,” the demon mocked. “Sadly, it’s probably still the smartest part of your body.”

  “Hush,” Roofy scolded before immediately feeling like an idiot, since only he could hear the voice and there was no reason to speak.

  “Why are we even here? This is a complete waste of time – time that could be spent tracking the person we absolutely should be looking for. If I were in control, justice would have already been carried out on that freak of nature,” Apocalypse stated.

  “Look who is talking,” Roofy replied, keeping his voice as low as possible.

  “Very funny,” the demon answered back. “At least we would be doing something productive, other than thinking with your dick. Again, you are wasting our time. You don’t even know if and when she might show-up.”

  A set of headlights made their way down the street and began to slow as they approached the yard.

  “You were saying?” Roofy retorted. There was no response.

  Hugging as close to the wall as his big frame would allow, Roofy prepared himself for his next move. It would not be an easy one, requiring perfect timing and a window of opportunity of only a few seconds.

  “You know,” Apocalypse said, “you could just try walking up to her and saying ‘hello’.”

  “Niet. I do not know what her reaction will be. She may shut the door on me or call for police. I need her attention so I can say what I need to say. I need this to happen in private,” Roofy said, struggling to get his English phrasing correct as his concentration was on the approaching lights.

  “Idiot! She is the police. What if you surprise her and she shoots you?” the demon asked.

  Ignoring the remarks, the big Russian leaned back a little further, causing more burrs to jab into his butt and upper legs. The car slowed to a stop in the driveway as the automatic garage door opened. Once up, the car began to move in slowly. Roofy made his move.

  Staying in a crouched position, he slid in behind the trunk of the automobile and followed it in just before the door began its decent.

  Vehicle stopped and turned off, he heard the driver side open and his target exit. Quietly, he crept up the passenger side, hoping she would not walk around in his direction. She did not. Instead, she made her way up the few steps leading to the house, keys rattling, and unlocked the door. As soon as the knob was turned and a small opening appeared, he reacted.

  Vaulting himself up and over the hood, his large frame cleared the vehicle with ease. Shock and surprise crossed the target’s face as she went for her purse and the gun Roofy knew would be in there. He leapt up the short flight of steps and shoulder blocked her through the doorway.

  Laura Stenks landed hard on her back in the middle of the kitchen floor, sliding a number of feet on the tile due to the momentum of the impact. Hand still in her purse, she managed to retrieve her firearm and bring it to bear on her attacker, who stood hunched in her doorway, arms up in submission.

  Slowly shutting the door behind him before raising his hands again, Roofy said, “It is just like old times.”

  25

  Laura lay in the floor, gun aimed at the Russian. How many times had she thought about this moment and what she would do if she had a chance to see him again – to be with him again. Now that the moment was here, she found she did not know how to react. Part of her wanted to leap up and hold him as tightly as she could. The other part began to knot-up in a tangle of resurfacing indecision. So, she did nothing at all.

  Stepping forward hesitantly, the ex-wrestler slowly lowered an arm and offered her a helping hand up.

  Scooting back just a bit, Laura made her way to her feet, keeping her weapon trained on him, although she could not figure out why. Yes, he had frightened her, and the adrenaline of the incident had her heart going like a trip-hammer. Or maybe it was the thought of being near him again that had her heart racing. She was not sure and needed a moment to collect and center herself; to figure out just what she wanted.

  Roofy gave her a playful smile and wandered past her into the living room. “This is a nice house, I think. A lot of room for one person.”

  It was a simple statement, but Laura was having trouble determining what to say back. This is stupid. I’m acting like a teenage girl with a crush. Retrieving her purse, she holstered her sidearm, attached it to her belt, and followed him as far as the casement opening between the two rooms, where she stopped to cross her arms and lean.

  “I like my space,” she finally responded while still trying to quiet the butterflies in her stomach.

  “Perhaps I will go then,” the big Russian replied.

  “I can’t let you do that,” Laura countered.

  “That sounds like it could be fun,” Roofy said.

  His reply took the intent of her words the wrong way, yet she could not help but daydream of what it would be like to physically interact with him again. Just imagining it caused her to cross her legs where she leaned and squeeze them tighter together.

  “Your look is different. It is not the same since I saw you in the Las Vegas,” Roofy said.

  Because I still have my clothes on. Laura scolded herself for being bad. “It’s a long explanation.”

  “How have you been?” he asked, content to take his time in his approach. He was not sure if she was playing coy with him or if she really was as uneasy as she seemed, but he was in no hurry. As a matter of fact, he felt very comfortable being back in her presence, as if all the problems he had been dealing with had fallen out of existence.

  “Speaking of explanations,” Laura began, ignoring his previous question, “there are some things I need answers to.”

  “Here we go,” Apocalypse chimed in, the voice grating through Roofy’s head. “And you thought you were going to get some.”

  “Stop talking,” Roofy demanded and immediately regretted saying it out loud. He had grown too accustomed to speaking out physically at the demon and could tell by the detective’s reaction that it was a mistake.

  “What did you say?” Laura asked, confused by the outburst. Although the words fit as a response to her previous statement, it appeared the Russian was talking to someone else in the room.

  “I am sorry,” Roofy responded. “That was not meant for you.”

  “Okay, you can start by explaining that and then go right to how you walked out of a morgue alive after I watched you die,” Laura shot back, becoming more direct.

  All the playfulness left him as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. Concentrating on his English in order to use the correct words, he explained everything beginning with what he thought was a tumor in his head to sharing his bo
dy with the demon, Mister Apocalypse. Having the creature inside him, it seemed, had caused him to lapse into a death-like coma before awakening and hiding with Father Philippe. He told her of the altercation at the church and how the news report had led him back to Richmond.

  The story did not totally surprise Laura. I mean, I’m dealing with people being turned into animals and feeding on other people’s blood and dead girls coming back to life, so how far of a stretch is it that someone could be possessed by a demon? Besides, everything he said lined up with the information his neurologist had been provided, albeit reluctantly. Calming back down, she could also tell by Roofy’s expression that the experience was taking a heavy toll on him emotionally. Knowing she was not alone in suffering through the ordeal quickly brought back the bond she felt with him. Although, she was concerned with how to go about curing him of his symbiotic problem. Before she could ask him, though, he had a question of his own.

  “Have you seen Ambrose?” Roofy asked.

  “Not directly, no,” Laura answered. “I have witnessed some of his handy-work though.”

  “He has been busy?” Roofy asked.

  “We found bodies that I’m sure were a result of his feeding. He’s killed some people. No face to face contact,” Laura explained.

  “What about the girl?” Roofy asked.

  No surprise getting that question either. Still, she was sure it would not be an easy topic to broach. “I have concerns about Constance, Roofy,” she said as tactfully as possible.

  “Constance is alive then? It is true?” the big Russian asked.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Laura answered. “For all intents and purposes, she was dead. But, then again, so were you. There was a funeral. She was buried. Now she’s back out among the living. Look, Roofy, you need to prepare yourself, though.”

  “She is like him, right? She is an animal like Ambrose?” Roofy asked rhetorically.

  His already knowing the extent of the situation caught Laura off guard, but it would also make the rest of what she had to explain easier. “Then you know what needs to be done?” she asked.

  “Yes,” the big Russian answered, “We need to help her.”

  Okay, so this isn’t going to be as easy as I expected. And based on how animated he had just become, it was obvious how emotionally attached he was to the idea.

  “That’s not what I meant. The girl is dangerous,” Laura directed back at him.

  “What is this you mean?” Roofy replied, his heightened state causing his hold on his English to slip.

  “Constance needs to be stopped,” Laura replied.

  Roofy threw-up his arms in disbelief. “You are one person I thought would understand and help, but you sound just like the demon,” he stated.

  “You haven’t seen what I have,” Laura fired back, voice escalating along with the situation. “That ‘innocent girl’ has mangled and killed a number of people. The person you knew does not exist anymore.”

  The big man did not back down; he was right in Laura’s face. “How do you know this? Maybe she is like me. Just because I have a demon in me does not mean I am not Roofy. You would still help me, yes?”

  He is passionate about how he feels, no doubt about it. More than that, he was right, and the point hit home with her. Laura tried to reconcile her opinions, which were now conflicting with her desire to not back down.

  “Also,” Roofy continued, more subdued than before, “it is, um…nasha vina…”

  “I don’t understand, Roofy,” Laura said. It was obvious to her that whatever he was trying to say bothered him greatly. She took a deep breath and relaxed her approach. “It’s okay. What are you trying to say?”

  The Russian stood thinking until the words came to him. “It is our fault.”

  “What?” Laura asked, feeling exasperation welling up in her again and fighting to keep it down.

  “We left her alone at that costume party. If we had not gone to the room, she would not be this way. I told her I would protect her. I did not,” he said, glancing around the room as if unable to look her in the face from the shame he felt. “I did not save her. You did not save her. We failed.”

  Now Laura felt horrible, for what she had just said to Roofy. Had she let herself become so jaded as an officer of the law that she had lost perspective on being human? Had she turned into one of the detectives that she had been so taken aback by when she was assigned her first case?

  Wait, wait Laura. Don’t go dissecting yourself again. She certainly could not argue his point. However, there were a couple of pieces of business the law enforcement side of her could not ignore.

  First, as guilty as she had felt for what happened to the teen, Laura knew she was being too hard on herself based on recent events. Constance’s actions had been gruesome, at best. The girl was murdering people. Probably could afford giving myself some slack on that.

  Second, she had to handle this situation the right way.

  Her career had taken enough of a hit and having Roofy speak with the chief directly might provide some needed answers and validation to their investigation. Besides, it would be safer for everyone involved. Then again, if he resisted, how could I physically subdue him? Would I want to? We are alone.

  Damn, Laura, pull yourself together, girl. It was the right thing to do. It was bad enough having blood-eaters running amuck in the city, she did not need to have a colossal sized demon on the loose as well.

  “I need to take you in, Roofy. It’s for your own protection, and it’s the right thing to do,” Laura said sternly, but the words did not sound anywhere near as convincing as they did running through her head.

  No resistance came, though. Instead, the large ex-wrestler continued scanning the cabinet full of odds-and-ends in her living room.

  “Interesting collection,” Roofy said.

  Did he just ignore me? Laura put her hands on her hips. “This is no time for games, big guy. I need you to come with me to the station,” she stated firmly.

  “There is an empty spot. It is for something important, I think. No?” Roofy asked, not acknowledging Laura’s directive in the least.

  The detective shook her head in disbelief, and yet, at the same time, she found the need to make him comply harder and harder to ignore. A large part of her wanted him to turn on her – to bend her to his will – to take her sexually. She was determined not to let that show. “Fine,” she said. “Yes, I am missing a piece. The Kladenets.”

  That got the big Russian’s attention. He turned to her in surprise and said, “It is the sword you speak of? This is not possible. The sword is….”

  “Fantasy?” Laura replied, cutting Roofy off. “Mythical? Legend? Yes, all of those things.”

  “Yes. Yes. We are told stories of it as little children, but it is not real. It is like your King Arthur and Excalibur,” Roofy said, still having trouble believing what he was hearing.

  “Oh, I believe it is very real, and I am sure I was close to finding it in Las Vegas,” she stated confidently. “But, it’s not ‘our’ King Arthur; that’s a British thing.” Pulling out a pair of handcuffs from the pouch on her belt, she held them up in front of her. “It’s time, Roofy. I need to take you in.”

  The large Russian stepped closer to her but did not put out his hands. “It is not what you want to do, I think.”

  “Yes, it is. I’m not like I was. Things have changed.” Laura replied, knowing she would have a hard time convincing him of it since she did not mean a word of what she had just said.

  Roofy brought his hands up in front of him. “You say these things, but your eyes say something different.”

  Perspiring was something Laura did not do often, but she was sure doing it at that moment. Add to that the problem she was having with keeping her hands from quivering. Reacting quickly to hide her physical responses to the Russian’s flirtations, she put the handcuffs on him, with them barely squeezing around his large arms.

  Laura felt that would have been fine, except sh
e now found herself standing like a deer in headlights holding the chain that connected the two wrist bracelets and staring into her captive’s eyes. Being with him again had been something she had thought about every day since she thought she had lost him. It was becoming too much.

  Pulling the chain, she led him over to a green and white chaise lounge and, positioning him in front of it, pushed him back. Given the size and strength difference between the two of them, it was obvious to her that he allowed himself to fall backwards, but she did not care.

  Smiling playfully and leaning back against the one armrest, Roofy said, “This is not a very comfortable chair for people, I think. Depending on what you have in mind, of course.”

  The words fell on deaf ears. Laura was busy trying to keep herself from exploding in one violent, sexual attack. A vagilanche. The thought caused herself to smirk at coming up with the word. Back-and-forth her mind went.

  “Show me you want it,” Roofy said alluringly.

  Hell with it. Laura leaned over top of the reclining Russian, with one hand on the lounge to support her. The other hand found its way to his chest and slowly made its way down his strong, tight torso. Stopping at the top of his pants, Laura reached back up and grabbed the top of his shirt, one side in each hand that trembled with anticipation. She would rip the fabric apart and tear into him with such desire and ferocity that he would never forget or question if another woman could want him as much.

  Musical notes erupted from her cell phone, as the tune indicated she had a call from her superior officer.

  “Der’mo,” Roofy cursed dejectedly.

  “If you said ‘shit’, then, yes, shit,” Laura added. “I have to answer this.” She fumbled with retrieving the phone from its holder, her hands still not cooperating normally.

  “Detective Stenks,” Laura answered.

  Chief Epps responded from the other end of the call. She was to come in immediately to investigate trouble at the Kysta household. Apparently, Missus Kysta’s neighbor and friend, Missus Hiller, had shown up at the station with some concerns.