Bloodlust (Frailty Book 2)

by Baker, Alex

  “Obvious drag marks,” Dwayne said as they moved down the hall and entered Constance’s room.

  Unlike the area they had just passed through and considering what had been transpiring, it appeared to be surprisingly clean to Laura. Dwayne must have thought the same thing as he made a comment about the condition.

  “Sheets are off the bed. Must have been what her mother had in the dryer,” Laura said. “Guess she likes to keep her work area clean.”

  “Maybe,” Dwayne added, “but nothing’s going to get that blood out of her mattress. Although, it does look like someone tried.”

  “Sure that was the mom too,” Laura said.

  “Yes sir, girl has quite the little nest going on up here,” Dwayne said.

  “Jealous?” Laura chided.

  “Hey, this girl doesn’t have anything on my digs,” Dwayne joked back.

  Despite the lack of bodies in the room, the smell was not much better, and it was starting to get to Laura. The only saving grace was that the window had been left open, providing a breeze of fresh air. She moved closer to it and stared out into the night as she breathed in deeply and cleared her head. Noticing the large nearby oak in the backyard, she wondered if it were possible that she was looking at the girl’s entrance and exit. Climbing and navigating that tree would be quite a feat. Laura dismissed the notion.

  As important a piece of the puzzle as all of the findings in the Kysta house was, her mind drifted to the large, naked Russian waiting for her back at the hotel. She suddenly felt very impatient about finishing up. She also knew she had probably the best moment she was going to have for addressing another issue that was weighing on her. Roofy was going to have to wait a moment longer. There was no need to learn any more lessons about guilt and reacting; Laura decided what had to happen was far more important than her embarrassment and pride. Plus, Dwayne could be trusted, no two doubts about it.

  “Girl goes through almost as many dates as you do,” Laura said, turning her attention back to Dwayne, who was making note of his findings. A gust of cool night air raced in and across her back, giving her the chills and leaving her wishing she had brought a heavier coat.

  Dwayne’s cell phone indicated a call was coming in. He looked at the display, touched the ignore call choice, and pocketed the device. “Speaking of which.”

  “Your newest conquest?” Laura asked, stalling as she tried to decide how to broach the personal matter.

  “Oh, let me tell you about this woman,” Dwayne responded dramatically.

  Another breeze blew in, rustling the tree right outside the window and behind Laura and calming her nerves a bit. Unloading what she knew would not be easy, but she needed to act before the Superheroine Stalker attacked any more victims.

  Laura could not wait to see what his reaction would be to what she had to say.

  28

  With every step that Constance had taken through the woods going away from the old Tredegar factory building she felt her freedom and control return, reinvigorated as the crisp air whipped around her. Heightened senses tracked wildlife all around her as she moved.

  Feeling alive had returned, albeit within certain unwanted boundaries.

  Her hunger had returned as well, and she was eager to get back home to make sure her mother had completed her chore of cleaning her bedding. Having company on soiled sheets just would not do. No. Her pristine body required pristine trappings. Once done with that, it was time for a hunt. Oh, how she needed a good hunt. Maybe an older man: someone with confidence and strength and someone that would present a challenge.

  Roofy. I bet he would be a challenge. Constance recalled how big and powerful he was. She could not help but wonder what he smelled like; what he tasted like. Of course, there really was no reason for him to resist her.

  What about Apocalypse, though? The demon Roofy carried would definitely fight her if it was in charge of his body. Or would it?

  Constance licked her lips. How unstoppable would she be if she controlled the demon? She wondered what scent the demon carried, thinking amusingly that he probably reeked of burning feces.

  In the distance she could make out the lights coming from windows filtering through the branches and wilting leaves. She was close. Her mother had better be finished with the laundry, or she would withhold her food again. Screw Ambrose; she knew what control was.

  If I were in charge, I would create a social networking site just for blood-dealers. Then I would take a selfie of my mother scrubbing the floor at my feet and post it. Maybe I’d enslave her nosey neighbor and add her to the pic.

  Stopping and holding her position behind a tree, she found something was wrong. There were too many scents in the air, with one in particular catching her attention. Keeping still and concentrating, she thought she could make out the faint flash of blue lights. Police maybe? Could it be her house? Even with her heightened senses, she was too far away to be sure. I need to get in closer.

  Proceeding carefully, Constance closed the distance. It did not take long to confirm her concerns.

  “Dammit!” she uttered in frustration through clenched teeth. She could try taking them all out. It would be one hell of a meal. Ambrose’s words came back to her, though. As much as it sickened her to admit it, he was right. She needed to be careful; no kneejerk reactions. For a moment she stood stewing in the thought of what a shitty day it had turned out to be. Worse, she had to find somewhere new to set up her nest.

  Almost preparing to depart, the aroma she recognized before caught her attention again. There was no doubting it, it was the detective. Her luck was changing. Focusing on just Laura, Constance was able to pick-up the sound of her voice and the direction her scent was coming from. It was her room.

  That bitch was personally invading her privacy and probably loving it. She certainly knew what Constance had been doing; that would complicate things. Still, Laura had not played out her uses, with the main one being that she would probably know where Roofy was. If she was alone in the room, Constance considered that she might be able to get to her. Removing the female investigator would be tough, but she may be able to take her down quickly, using the element of surprise to keep her silent and cut-off from anyone else in the house long enough to make her talk.

  Whatever the teen was going to do, she decided she must act quickly. Once Laura left, she would be hard to keep up with in a vehicle. Constance was fast now but not that fast.

  Taking inventory of what she was up against revealed the distinct fragrance of two officers positioned near the back door of the house and multiples out front. Numerous people were inside, but Constance was confident the detective only had one guest with her.

  This will be easier than I thought. Constance brandished her claw-like nails and scaled the tree she had stayed cloaked behind. Part way up there was a slight tug at her skirt and the sound of fabric ripping. Once at the branch she had targeted, the teen took stock of the damage to the clothing.

  The tear was near the back right side of the garment and opened up more of what was an already revealing article of clothing. Her mother certainly could no longer be ordered to fix it. Ruined. Then again, she reconsidered as she took another look. How could showing off more skin be bad? She was certain it would catch attention and decided it was best to leave it as it was.

  Nimbly, she made her way out to the farther section of the large branch before leaping to the next tree over, using the momentum to repeat the process and land in the tree directly behind her parents’ home.

  The move had caused more rustling than she had anticipated, forcing her to hold her position while the police looked around. It took only a moment for them to decide it was a scared animal. Animal is right; scared is so wrong.

  Using a more careful and cautious approach for the final leg of the acrobatic transition, Constance landed with hardly a thump on the roof and quickly scuttled her way to a squatting position on top of the covering that jutted out over her bedroom window. There were two voices, and she r
ecognized the second as Laura’s fellow officer from the graveyard; the one that took her rabbit. Dwayne was his name, if she remembered right.

  He was making comments comparing Constance’s feeding habits to his dating trends. Laura teased him about the number of women he had exploits with. Apparently he was quite the lady’s man and player. Maybe it was his smell.

  Swine. There was no mistaking it. Not in a bad way. Not like a nasty, dirty pig. No, she recalled watching a documentary that had delved into the similarities between the perspiration of male humans and male swine. Apparently, at its most potent, the swine sweat caused a subconscious animal-like attraction when smelled by females. It was not straight pig juice, she recalled the show explaining, as the extract had been mixed with some other chemicals. Still, the effect was clear.

  Constance named him Pork Chop, and her mouth watered. It would be easy to get to him, to isolate him, to suck on that succulent brown skin, and to turn him. She glowed at the idea of how shocked Laura would be to find her friend changed and to beg helplessly as he devoured her.

  Speaking of the detective, her aroma was easy to identify, and Constance could see why Roofy would be drawn to it. She smelled like sex.

  Dwayne asked Laura if he had told her about the problematic woman he had been dealing with, stating he had created a monster. Apparently he had been so good that this woman had found herself attached and unable to resist wanting more. He had made it clear that they were not committed to each other. Despite that, his fatal attraction continued to hound him.

  The woman had sent emails, texts, nude photos, etcetera. The more Dwayne bragged about his sexual prowess the more Constance felt she might gag, and she wondered if he had ever laid eyes, much less hands, on someone as stunning as she was. He would probably stutter and fumble as he tried to pick her up, and she would toy with him for a while, allowing him to believe he actually had a chance with someone of her caliber, before breaking him.

  Comical but boring. Bored – bored – bored. Taking them both out was sounding better and better. At least better than playing a gargoyle on her own roof. She risked a glance, leaning over and peeking through the top of the window. Hair pulled back with one hand and gripping the framing with the other, she could see Laura’s back. Aside from the new drab ensemble, it was the same ole detective that had interfered way too much in her life. Dwayne was on the other side of Laura and blocked from direct sight by her. Suddenly things got interesting again.

  Laura said that she had something to tell Dwayne along the lines of creating a monster. She told him she was sure she knew who the Amazing Woman murderer was and that she thought she had started him on the path.

  Constance sat back up and settled in. This just got juicy.

  Dwayne was stunned, as expected, and wanted to know what she was talking about.

  Laura lowered her voice to barely over a whisper, which was no problem to still detect thanks to Constance’s keen hearing, and recounted her one night encounter with a man named Wes Richert. She explained her fetish and how she had sexually recreated the brutal assault and murder of Sarah Whent; how she had dressed in the same costume, scouted out a willing accomplice from the same bar that their victims had frequented, and how the whole escapade had gone down at the same hotel the current murderer had used.

  Dwayne’s response? “Damn, girl! I didn’t know you rolled like that.” Constance agreed. The woman was a freak in a way that made her own condition seem almost normal.

  Detective Stenks had shushed him and told him it was a serious situation. The forensics officer had questions, though. Of course he would. She wanted to jump through the window and ask a few things herself.

  He wanted to know how she was sure it was this Wes guy, and Laura explained all of the similarities, most of which she had already mentioned. She was sure he was using the same locations because of the comfort zone. It was what he was doing, though, that she thought was the most incriminating evidence. He was trying to recreate what she had done to him; to replicate that first moment.

  There was a thrill to it that she had unlocked for him, and he had a real taste for it now. Unfortunately, just like the first high from a drug, he was never going to get the same feeling that he did the first time. So, she was sure he would continue, and his appetite would only grow, as would his brutality.

  Dwayne wanted to know how she knew his name, given the circumstances. Laura answered that she made it a habit to see the licenses of anyone she had hooked up with; that maybe it was the investigator in her.

  “This happened more than once?” Dwayne asked back, surprised again. He received another shushing from Laura.

  She continued divulging details, stating that she had put things together a while back and began checking into Wes’ whereabouts. Unfortunately, since she was having to do it on the down-low, anything she had come up with was just circumstantial. That prevented her from being able to secure a search warrant, and she did not want to go to the chief until she had absolute proof. Her main concern was that, if she pursued the situation further in any capacity, though, it would just compromise the case because of her previous actions and associations with the suspect, and she would end up being blamed by any half-decent defense lawyer for compromising and contaminating any evidence collected due to how close she was to the case, while he got away. She felt boxed in and needed help.

  Laura provided Dwayne with Wes’ home and work addresses.

  Oh, Mister Richert will not be getting away. Constance had quickly formulated an idea to resolve all of her problems, and this man would be most useful in it.

  Back inside the bedroom, Dwayne had reassured Laura. He said he would help her in any way possible but that she had to be very careful because the line she was walking was getting thinner and thinner, like razor thin.

  Laura expressed guilt over creating such a beast.

  “It could be worse,” Dwayne said. “You could also be harboring a fugitive.”

  That remark apparently had drawn a telling facial expression from Laura, because the forensics officer went right back into utter surprise mode.

  “Damn, girl! What – you can’t help yourself? You have to see how far down the rabbit hole you can go?” he said in reaction to her, before drawing yet another harsh shushing.

  Laura confirmed that she had Roofy at a safe house and had not decided yet how to broach that situation.

  That was the meat that Constance wanted. He was here. The detective had him. Initially, she was excited at the news, with thoughts of how their reunion would go. The Russian would be so happy to see her, and he would be even happier to accommodate her needs and help her.

  Elation gave way to resentment, though. Yes, Laura had him. That self-indulging bitch had taken what was hers; had inserted herself between them once again. Slut.

  Be that as it may, all the pieces were there. Everything Constance needed to solve all of her problems was present, and it would not be long before she would eliminate the two road blocks in her way. There were a few steps that had to be performed in order to prepare everything, though.

  Quietly, Constance inched away from the window and towards a leap-off spot where she could make her way back to the trees.

  She would have to remember to thank the good detective for providing her with the means to rectify all of her issues – that is, right before she sucked the last drops of blood from Laura’s body.

  Like a wisp in the wind, the teen bounded back to the large branch near the house and took off into the night, moving with a new found purpose.

  PART FOUR – PLANS AND URGES

  29

  Laura stood in the soft glow of the building’s lights outside of hotel room 209, knowing full well what awaited her inside. She had been in the same position for the past few minutes, overwhelmed with anticipation and expectation. Once again she reached for the door handle, but her hand was still trembling. This is happening way too often. She stared down at her fingers as if to will them to stop twitching. They did
not.

  Grasping her two hands together and grunting in disapproval, she noticed her fingernails. Almost all signs of the garnet red nail polish had disappeared, leaving just flesh tone tipped in off-white. “Clean slate,” she muttered, although she also reasoned she would never get them painted again given her reoccurring propensity to shaking at the drop of a hat.

  Another long deep breath and she decided it was time. She was ready, she thought, trying hard to convince herself. Besides, if she did not do something soon she was definitely going to start attracting attention. That was all she needed, for someone to call the police and have them find her with some Russian with an APB out on him plowing her from behind.

  Was that what she wanted? Laura reprimanded herself for second guessing and thought about the image again, chuckling. At least the levity had relieved a little bit of the tension; enough so that she managed to unlock the door.

  Opening it revealed a room that was completely dark except for the light coming through the partially closed door of the bathroom. The limited illumination did not disclose the ex-wrestler’s presence, but she knew he was there, watching her and plotting his first move. She could hear his breathing.

  The scene had been laid out with intention, though, as the room’s desk had been moved near where the bathroom door was, and there lying on it, placed just where she would obviously see them, were her handcuffs.

  Shutting the door and locking it, Laura was all too eager to play the game that her Russian captive had prepared.

  She began by setting her purse in the chair that used to accompany the desk and followed that by removing her duty belt and placing it on top of the handbag. Air of confidence in place, she then strode over to the desk and leaned against it with both hands, keeping her eyes locked on the open restraints.