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Message-ID: <58687asstr$1236607802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Dreadpirate Tom <dptom@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} New Story:  Blood Lust Chapters 1-8
Lines: 1972
Date: Mon, 09 Mar 2009 10:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Story codes are:  MF, nc, sad, slow, tort, viol, vampires

 

 

Thanks, 

 

dpt

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<1st attachment, "blood lust chapters 1-8.txt" begin>

Standard disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction that depicts
explicit sexual acts, including some rather nasty S&M (much more S than M)
and what I suppose could be described as snuff.  If you are offended by
such stories or they are illegal in your locality, stop reading now, delete
this file and move on to something else.  Otherwise, please enjoy.



   Blood Lust

   By Dread Pirate Tom

   Chapter 1

   Larry knew he was out of his depth the moment he walked into the popular
night club.  The throng of people crowded shoulder to shoulder on the dance
floor, gyrating with abandon to the throbbing, pulsing music, were all at
least ten years younger than he.  He was momentarily taken aback by the
sheer number of them.  The bouncer at the entrance had said that it was a
slow night!  Pausing near the entrance he tapped his foot, slightly but
noticeably out of beat with the music, and chewed his lip nervously. 
Several times he started to leave but, after a long moment, he found his
resolve, straightened his shoulders and pushed his plump, shorter than
average form towards the bar.  After paying an exorbitant fee for a beer,
he put his back to the bar and returned his gaze to the bouncing, twisting
crowd.

   Briefly, he again questioned why he had come here, but he knew the
answer.  His job as a CPA in one of the most prestigious accounting firms
in the city didn't often leave him with enough free time to do more than
fall into exhausted sleep in his small, one bedroom apartment before
getting up and heading to work yet again.  He yearned for more.  His
strongest desire was to be a part of something more than himself, to share
his life with a woman for whom he cared and who cared about him.  An office
romance was out of the question.  Time and again, he had seen office
politics gleefully assassinate characters and murder careers as a result of
such indulgences.  This club was reputed to be the best place in the city
to meet women.  Gazing around the large room, he gathered that he had
misinterpreted the nuances of that reputation.  With a sigh, he began a
determined effort to drain his beer quickly, steeling himself for yet
another night alone.

   It was then that he first caught sight of her dancing alone at the
fringe of the crowd.  She was taller than average, far taller than he, with
long blond hair and strong features that bespoke of Nordic ancestry.  She
wore a simple red dress that clung lasciviously to every square inch of her
hips and torso.  Her c-cupish breasts bounced gently in time with the
music, the obviously erect nipples demonstrating that she eschewed the use
of a bra.  She turned and Larry took in the taut smooth curves of her ass.
He struggled momentarily to make out any panty lines, but failed.  In an
instant, everyone else in the room faded from his sight and mind.  His half
empty beer stood on the bar, forgotten and abandoned.  His entire being was
focused entirely on the woman in the red dress.

   He had to meet her.  He knew he had no chance with such an exquisite
specimen of womanhood, but he had to try.  For the next few minutes, he
stood and mentally planned out the conversation to come, trying desperately
to think of a way to impress her with his sophistication, intelligence and
poise.  Then he saw her leave the dance floor and head towards the bar. 
This was his chance!  He sauntered over to where she stood leaning slightly
against the bar.  She saw him coming and her ice-blue eyes met his, a fine,
perfectly plucked eyebrow rose in query.  All of his well planned rhetoric
flushed from his mind in an instant, leaving him grasping for something,
anything to say.  He blurted out, "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"
He flushed immediately in embarrassment.  Out of all the things he could
have said, the best he had come up with was a cheesy, cliched pickup line.

   He couldn't hear it over the music, but he saw that she was laughing
lightly.  Defeated, he turned to leave.  His retreat was halted when she
grabbed his tie directly below the knot.  Pulling him in closer, the beauty
in the red dress leaned in to place her lips near his ear.  The feel of her
breath on his skin sent shivers of ecstasy running up and down his spine.
He suddenly realized that she was speaking and struggled to get enough of a
hold on himself to understand.  "That wasn't the best effort that I've ever
heard, but you're the only man in the place who has shown any interest
tonight.  How would you like to dance, stud?"

   He could only nod numbly in response.  With another laugh, she turned
and, still gripping Larry's tie like a leash, strutted back towards the
dance floor, pulling him along in her wake.  Larry followed her willingly,
eagerly.  Despite all of his efforts, he couldn't pull his eyes from her
gently swaying hips.  She finally drew to a halt near the place where he
had first seen her.  She turned and caught the direction of his gaze. 
Bringing her lips to his ear, she asked in a sultry tone, "Were you looking
at my ass, Larry?" He struggled to recall when he had told her his name,
but quickly gave up.  What did it matter?  He stammered, "I'm sorry..." She
stopped his fumbled apology by placing a soft, smooth finger across his
lips.  "It's ok, Larry.", she whispered, her soft exhalation caressing his
ear lobe, "I'm glad you like it."

   Turning back away from him, the woman in red began to roll her hips in
time with the music, gazing over her shoulder with a smile as she watched
the effect this had on him.  With renewed embarrassment, Larry noticed
that, despite all of her activity, she wasn't sweating at all.  He, on the
other hand, was already covered with a sheen and could feel droplets
running down his neck and back.  The embarrassment, and all other thought,
faded to nothingness as she suddenly moved back and began grinding that
beautiful, round rear directly on his crotch.  Larry gazed quickly around
the dance floor, fearful that he was making a spectacle of himself, but
relaxed when he saw that many of the dancers were engaged in similar acts.

   Doing his best to bob in time with the heavy dance beat, Larry reached
out tentatively towards her swiveling hips.  The woman saw his movement and
reached back to take his hands in hers, pulling them to her waist and
running them up and down her flanks.  For the next several songs, Larry was
lost to the feel of her firm shapely ass rubbing against his tumescent cock
and of her smooth, lithe body under the satiny material of her dress.

   Suddenly, the woman twisted in Larry's grasp, turning to face him.  Her
hard nipples drew lines of fire across his upper chest.  She leaned in to
again whisper in his ear, "Would you like to get out of here?" She laughed
as he nodded eagerly.  Renewing her grip on his tie, she pulled him towards
the door.

   Once outside, they climbed into one of the numerous cabs that waited in
front of the popular night spot.  Before Larry could ask the age old
question, the woman in red pressed herself to him and, with a kiss, said,
"Lets go to your place, lover.  My roommate's home and a bit of a prude."
The touch of her cool, sensuous lips against his kept Larry from responding
for a moment, but he finally gave the cabby his address.  The trip passed
in a blur for Larry, who was lost in the feeling of soft cool lips pressing
to his over and over again.

   When the cab drew to a halt in front of his apartment building, Larry
threw a wad of bills at the cabby without checking the denominations, and
led the woman in red to his home.  Inside his apartment, she again pressed
herself into him, kissing him fervently while undoing his tie and the
buttons of his shirt.  Larry returned her passion eagerly.  He had reached
the conclusion that there was only one reason that such a beautiful woman
would have anything to do with him, but that was fine; for this he would
pay any price she demanded.  As if in response to his thought, Larry
thought he saw a look of intense sadness cross the woman's face, but it was
so fleeting that he concluded that it was only his imagination.

   Retreating slightly, Larry panted for breath and said, "I don't even
know your name..." The woman laughed and pulled him fully back into her
embrace, "What's in a name?" Then they were in his bedroom.  The woman grew
frustrated with the remaining buttons on his shirt and tore it from him,
the offending fasteners flying across the room in all directions.  She then
made quick work of his belt and pants.  When he stood naked in front of
her, the woman placed a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards onto the
bed.

   The woman turned her back to Larry's reclined form and began to roll her
hips gently from side to side.  Reaching down she took the hem of her dress
in her hands and worked it slowly upwards, inch by inch.  Larry gasped as
her perfect ass came into view, he had been right about the lack of
undergarments.  Flicking his eyes upwards, he saw that she was watching him
over her shoulder, a coy smile on her full lips.  She finished pulling the
dress above her head and stood before him nude.  After turning around
slowly to give him time to admire her form, she crawled onto the bed,
straddling Larry's supine form.  She bent down and kissed him passionately
before whispering in his ear, "No foreplay tonight, baby.  I want to feel
you inside me." Before Larry could respond, he felt cool, tight, wet velvet
enclose his throbbing cock.  She sat up on him, and Larry took in the sight
of his cock buried fully in her smooth shaven sex.  Suddenly he felt the
muscles of her channel began to rhythmically tighten and release all around
his turgid length.  As he threw his head back in ecstasy, he felt her begin
to raise and lower herself on his shaft without interrupting the delicious
internal contractions.

   Gradually, she increased the speed and force with which she rode him,
her firm round buttocks slapping hard into his upper thighs on each down
stroke before she reversed direction and rose until only his tip remained
inside her.  Larry's eyes squeezed shut in bliss and he began to emit a
continuous guttural moan.  As she gazed down upon him with a gentle smile
on her lips, his hips began to twitch and spasm.  With a cry he hunched his
hips upwards, burying himself fully inside of her as his hot seed splashed
into her depths.  As he basked in the afterglow of the most intense orgasm
of his life, she fell forward onto him, nuzzling her head into his neck as
he enfolded her in a loose embrace.  The muscles of her cunt continued to
contract around him, milking him of every last drop of cum.

   He suddenly felt a brief but intense stab of pain from his neck and then
he was cumming again, thrusting his hips convulsively up into her. 
Panicking, he cried out and struggled desperately to free himself, but she
held him down with ease.  As the strength seemed to flow from his body, his
struggles subsided and then ceased altogether.

   Mia, for that was the woman in red's name, at least in this time and
place, felt her own release the second Larry's blood began spurting into
her mouth.  She sucked greedily as the orgasm suffused her entire body.  It
only intensified as she consumed more and more of his blood, his life, the
very essence of his being.  Beneath her she felt and heard his heart falter
and then go still.  Pulling back, she licked at his neck, cleaning it of
every last drop of blood and, just as importantly, getting her saliva into
the small holes which now pierced his jugular vein.  She watched intently
as the wounds closed, making certain that there would be no sign of them.
Sitting up, she ran her tongue over the fangs which protruded from her
upper jaw, cleaning them of the last drops of his blood before retracting
them.  She then took his head in her hands and, with a sharp twist, snapped
his neck.

   She bent down and kissed his lips a final time.  "Sorry, Larry." There
was real regret in her voice.  Rolling off of him with a sigh, she stood
and pulled the dress over her body.

   She didn't usually fuck her food, though she often did do her best to
make sure that her prey's last moments were pleasant ones.  It had almost
been a mistake this time.  It had taken every last bit of her compulsion to
keep him from taking more conscious note of the fact that her body was room
temperature, inside and out.  It was for this reason that she preferred the
warm south to these cold northern cities, as her condition was much less
noticeable when the air temperature was near that of a human body.  Not for
the first time, she wondered why her Master had insisted that they come
here.

   Again she looked at the body with a sigh of regret.  She hadn't been
able to help herself.  The sound of all the racing hearts at the nightclub,
the smell of all of the phermones, the very texture of thoughts clouded
heavily with lust, had excited her to an uncontrollable frenzy.

   Larry wasn't her usual type.  He was obviously employed, a productive
member of society.  He would be missed.  She usually fed on the criminals
and the homeless who lived on the fringe of society.  They had no family,
no friends, no one to notice when they went inexplicably and eternally
missing.  Not that there weren't benefits to her choice this evening. 
Larry was far more robust than her usual prey, more full of life.  She
would not likely have to feed again for a week.  If only she hadn't had to
kill him.  In the past she had tried to take just a small amount of blood
from her victims, blurring their memories so they wouldn't even notice.  It
hadn't worked; like eating the chinese food of proverb, she had been
ravenously hungry again in less than an hour.  It was then that she learned
that it wasn't truly blood on which she fed, but life.  And anything less
than a whole life was much the same as no life at all.

   She set about removing all traces of her presence.  She gathered the
buttons she had torn loose earlier, placed them in his shirt pocket and
hung it in his closet.  She took another shirt from the closet and folded
it and his pants neatly over the chair in his bedroom.  She then went to
the bathroom and, after locating a hand towel, wiped down every surface she
might have touched finishing by wiping the sticky evidence of their
lovemaking from his shriveled cock before tucking the towel into her purse.
She then dressed Larry in his boxer shorts, arranged his body in a natural
sleeping position and pulled the covers up to his chin.  The illusion that
he had died in his sleep wouldn't hold up if the broken neck were noticed,
but sometimes the overworked coroner's staff overlooked such things, seeing
only what they wanted to see in their haste to complete yet another
thankless job.

   Satisfied, she went to the door.  Before opening it, she closed her eyes
and extended her consciousness outward.  She cursed softly.  There were
people in the hall, and it wouldn't do to be seen exiting this place.  It
was a long way home, though.  She couldn't stay or she would risk being
caught by the sun.  Recalling a large curtain in the living room, she drew
it to the side and was rewarded by the sight of a small balcony.

   She went out on the terrace and looked down.  At this time of night,
there were still plenty of people on the streets and someone would surely
notice if she made the ten story leap to the sidewalk.  She would need to
take another route.  She stood motionless for a moment, her eyes closed in
concentration, her will focused inward.  Such was her concentration that
she didn't notice when a gob of semen fell from between her thighs to the
floor of the balcony.  The skin on her forearms, hands and feet rippled and
changed, shooting forth countless numbers of nearly microscopic hooks, much
like the feet of a gecko.  Once the change was complete, she quickly
scrambled up the side of the concrete building and then leapt from rooftop
to rooftop until she was blocks from the site of her feeding.  When she
finally located an alley with no pedestrian traffic, she jumped to the
pavement, her knees bending only slightly to absorb the six story fall. 
After peering around the alley intently to ensure that there were no
witnesses, she prepared to run the remaining distance to her home. 
Suddenly, her eyes narrowed maliciously.  On second thought, she would take
a cab home.  Still wearing the same red dress she had worn to the
nightclub. Even this small act of reckless rebellion caused her to double
over in pain.  Clenching her teeth, she walked slowly to a busier street
and hailed a cab.

   The cab dropped her off in what had been a wealthy residential
neighborhood in the cities prime, but was now starting to go to seed.  It
was still a decent enough area that she and her Master could easily pass
themselves off as up and coming yuppies, too poor to afford better, but not
so nice that they would be pressured to socialize with the neighbors. 
People here minded their own business, which is exactly what her Master
wanted.  She walked a block down the street and around a corner.  It would
have been entirely too blatant to have the cabby drop her off at her
precise residence.  The resulting pain would have been severe and would
have persisted long enough for him to know.

   Ducking through a darkened yard, she approached a nondescript house and
entered through the back door.  She found her master sitting in the living
room watching CNN, impeccably dressed, as always, in an expensive suit and
tie.  As he stood to face her, she barely withheld a sneer.  The old adage
that familiarity breeds contempt is especially true for immortals as their
familiarity with each other could grow over the span of centuries.  Mia
loathed the being that stood before her, the being that she was compelled
to serve for eternity.  In life he had been known as Arthur Pendleton and
he had grown up in England during the Georgian period.  The arrogance that
came with being a citizen of one of the greatest imperial nations at the
height of its power had stuck with him even after he had undergone the
Change in an alley of some backwater city in Asia.  A Change that had
turned him from a sailor in the Royal Navy into an immortal.

   "I see you have fed, my dear.", he said, a slight English accent still
perceptible.  "Did you remember to make certain that your food wouldn't
rise?"

   Mia couldn't keep the contempt from her voice as she answered, "Yes,
Master.  I broke his neck." How could he think that she would forget such a
thing after more than a century of hard learned habit?

   "And you are certain you left no trace?"

   Mia's voice dripped with sarcasm, "No, Master.  I led the police
straight to our door." She clamped down on the pain that shot through her
body at the half lie, letting none of it show.

   She saw his face harden and knew that she was about to pay the price for
her tone.  "You dare to speak to me in such a manner?", he asked
rhetorically.  "I believe you require another lesson in humility.  Bend
over the couch, my dear."

   Mia did as he commanded without hesitation.  The nature of the bond
between them compelled absolute obedience.  Out of the corner of her eye,
she watched as he removed his belt, twining the end around his hand a few
times.  The end opposite the buckle.  This was going to be one of the bad
ones.

   Arthur smiled slightly as he stepped towards his submissively bent over
fledgling.  A sadist in life, that base nature had only been amplified by
the Change and the years that followed.  He reached down and flipped the
hem of her dress up over her hips, his eyes barely lingering on the lush
alabaster cheeks that he knew so well before traveling to her face.  He
reveled in the pain of his victims, and that pain registered most clearly
in their eyes.

   He raised the belt above his head and brought it down swiftly with every
bit of his supernatural strength.  The report of leather striking flesh
resounded like a gunshot through the small room.  Pleasure suffused his
being as he relished the intense pain which flashed in her eyes.  He
glanced down quickly and watched as the long red furrow left in her flesh
by the buckle swiftly closed, leaving the skin whole and unblemished, the
only sign of injury the thin stream of bright red blood which trickled
slowly down her ass to her thighs.

   Again and again he brought the belt down on her unresisting form, until
even her immortal poise began to crack.  He noticed with delight that blood
stained her chin from where she had bitten through her lip in the throes of
agony and that her entire upper body quaked and shivered in pain.  He took
a step back to admire his handiwork, watching gleefully as copious
quantities of blood ran in small rivers down her legs to the floor.  The
actual injuries were, of course, no longer apparent, but the pain remained,
and that was what was important.

   He still wasn't finished with her.  Reaching down he undid the zipper of
his pants and reached inside to fish out his rampant cock.  With a small
focus of will, he caused the skin of his member to change and sprout bony
protrubances up and down its length.  He smiled as he saw her wince at the
sight of his altered dick and mockingly told her, "Reach back and spread
your arse cheeks for me, dear."

   Mia obeyed as the bond required.  He stepped up behind her and, pausing
only a moment to position the head of his cock at the pucker of her anus,
thrust savagely forward, watching with amusement as his changed skin tore
at her delicate folds.  Cruelly pierced, Mia reared upwards, crying out in
agony.  Rutting into his beautiful slave, Arthur focused his will on his
fledgling's mind, delving back through more than a century of her
accumulated memories until he found the one he sought.

   As her master sawed his horny cock back and forth in her rectal cavity,
Mia was further tormented by the memory of the day of her Change, swelling
upwards, unbeckoned and unwanted, from the dark recesses of her mind..

   The raiders had rolled into her village at dusk, demanding food for the
hungry Ottoman army traveling a day's ride to the south.  Her village had
nothing to give as the Czar's men had taken all that they had the day
before.  The Ottomans had refused to believe this, and had killed the men
of the village one by one, stating each time that the murder would cease if
the villagers showed them where they had hidden their provisions.  But
there had been nothing to show.  When all the men were dead, the soldiers
had turned upon the women.  The Ottomans had taken Mia in every way that a
man can violate a woman, as cruelly if not as painfully as her Master was
taking her now.  Afterwards, as she lay in the street, broken and bleeding,
the moonlight had been suddenly blotted out by the silhouette of a man.  He
bent down to her and asked quietly, "Do you wish to live, girl?" She had
croaked out, "Yes.  Yes, I want to live." He leaned even closer, peering
dispassionately in her face, "Do you wish to live even if it means serving
me for the rest of your existence." He frightened her, but she had feared
her rapidly approaching demise more.  She had nodded her assent.  With a
mocking smile, he had then told her, "As you wish." With a fingernail that
was suddenly long and sharp, he had opened a vein in his wrist and held it
to her mouth.  While his blood dripped down her throat, he had bent and
tore at her neck with teeth that were far too long and sharp.  Her vision
had faded into nothingness.  She cursed that decision now, wishing
fervently with all of her being that she had chosen to die with the rest of
her village.

   With a harsh laugh, her master broke her from her reverie by bringing
the belt down again upon her helplessly clenched buttocks.  He thrust
himself violently forward into her whimpering form and she knew he was
cumming inside her.  He held himself inside her for a moment longer and
then, with a muttered curse, pulled himself free.  He then slapped her
buttock lightly, "The sun will be rising soon.  Go clean yourself off so we
can retire." Cowering and defeated, Mia stood and hastened to obey.  She
had taken several steps when her master asked, in a dangerous tone,
"Forgetting something?" She immediately turned and dropped to her knees,
her Master laughing at the look of revulsion on her face.  Leaning forward,
she took his still hard cock in her mouth, cleaning it quickly of every
vestige of her blood and his seed, thankful that she no longer produced
fecal matter.  When she was finished, he took his shaft in hand and used
his cock to slap her lightly on her cheeks and forehead before tucking it
away.  "Hurry now, my dear.  The sun comes."

   Once she had cleaned the blood from her lower body and wiped the tear
streaks from her face, Mia hastened back to the living room and her master.
He took her arm in his and led her to the basement.  There, in what had
once been a coal cellar, were two identical steel coffins.  They didn't
need to pass their daytime dormancy in such cliched contrivances; they
could pass the day any place that was protected from the sun, even a bed if
they wished.  From a practical standpoint, though, the caskets were
difficult to beat.  Dormancy bore a far closer resemblance to true death
than it did to the slumber of mortals.  While dormant, Mia and her master
were helpless, completely unaware of their surroundings and would not wake
no matter what was done to their defenseless bodies.  The heavy steel clad
boxes with the large bolt locks that could only be operated from within
protected them from far more than sun light.  While inside the protective
casings, the house could burn down around them and they would remain
unharmed.  If any intruders happened upon them, the strong locks would
likely hold them at bay, hopefully long enough for dusk to fall.

   Mia settled into the softly padded silken interior of her casket, her
wounds already healed and the pain faded.  Only the humiliation remained.
With all the blood she had lost, she also knew that her recent meal would
not last anywhere near the week she had anticipated.  She would need to
feed again soon.  As she worked the mechanism to lock her coffin tight, her
eyes narrowed in rage.  Night after countless night she had been forced to
endure similar pain and humiliation at the hands of her Master.  She could
endure no more.  As she had every night for years, she vowed to see her
Master dead, even if it meant her own destruction.  The nature of the bond
between fledgling and master kept her from actively doing him harm, but
even in such a bond, there was room to act if she were careful.  If she
were fortunate, that destruction had already been set in motion by the
simple act of taking a cab.

   Arthur watched his fledgling crawl into her casket before doing the
same. He had thoroughly enjoyed the night's dalliance, but it had left him
vaguely unsatisfied.  When he rose again, he decided, he would repeat what
he had done to Mia with a mortal woman.  A woman whose flesh wasn't
so...resilient.  Perhaps he could even use such an act to further the
purpose for which he had come to this city.

   The sun rose above the horizon and fledgling and master gasped and grew
rigid, their thoughts and schemes consumed by the waiting dark.

   Chapter 2

   Mia's eyes snapped open as she came fully awake the moment the sun
dropped below the horizon.  Immediately, she pushed her awareness outwards
through the house, seeking any presence other than her Master.  Finding
none, she sighed in disappointment before throwing back the latch to her
coffin and lifting the lid.  Perhaps she had given the local police too
much credit.  Maybe she would have to do something more overt.  A metallic
clang from her left drew her attention to her master emerging from his
dormancy.

   He looked her up and down with a thin smile.  "Go dress yourself in
something more appropriate for a chilly evening, child.  Hurry, now, we
have much to do tonight." Mia looked down at the slinky red dress she still
wore.  While she didn't feel the cold, at least not unless the temperature
was far enough below freezing that her fluids turned to ice and slowed her
movement, she understood what her Master meant.  They would be going out
among the mortals tonight and he did not wish to draw attention to
themselves.  Mia hurriedly ran upstairs to change.

   When she walked into the living room five minutes later, wearing jeans,
sweatshirt, athletic socks and tennis shoes, she found her Master waiting
for her with a long black trench coat added to his usual attire.  He looked
her over with a disdainful grimace, but grunted his acceptance of her
choice of dress.  Arm in arm they strolled out into the night, keeping
their pace to a slow mortal walk.

   An hour later, they arrived in Shadyside, one of the wealthier sections
of the city.  As they walked past each of the fine houses, Mia could feel
her Master extending his consciousness into the structures, taking
inventory of the lives within.  He was looking for something specific. 
Finally, he paused in front of a medium sized brick house and, with a grunt
of satisfaction, started up the walk to the front door.  Arthur knocked
and, shortly, a pretty young woman answered.  She looked at them in
confusion for a moment and Mia could feel her Master exerting his will. 
The young woman's eyes glazed over slightly and, in a befuddled tone, she
said, "Oh, Mr.  Baker, it's nice to see you.  My parents are out of town
for the week and I'm just watching the place for them.  Anything I can do
for you?"

   Arthur smiled at the young woman, "Hello, Sarah.  Would you mind if we
came inside and left a note for when your parents get home?"

   "Of course, Mr.  Baker, come on in."

   For the next hour, Arthur made Mia watch as he did to Sarah the same as
he had done to Mia the night before.  Only this poor young woman didn't
heal.  Arthur laughed and taunted the poor woman throughout her ordeal,
until at last, his lust sated, he drained her of life, leaving the husk on
the living room floor for her parents to find.

   Mia was sickened by the display.  It troubled her enough that she had to
take mortal lives to sustain her own, but this....this was pure,
unadulterated evil.  She renewed her vow to bring it to an end.  As Arthur
began to clean the area of their presence, she gathered her courage and
asked, "Master, would you mind if I went hunting?  I'm feeling weak after
last night." Arthur merely waved her off with a condescending smile.

   Fleeing the house that now smelled of agony and death, Mia ran quickly
to the Hill District, blurring the minds of the mortals she ran by so that
they would remember nothing of her passing.  Within moments of entering the
area, she located exactly what she sought.  A large man, arrogant with what
he perceived as strength, stood leaning against the corner of a derelict
building which was so thickly covered with gang tags that it was impossible
to determine its original color.  She watched from the shadows as several
people approached him furtively, passing him cash in exchange for tiny
packets.  When he was alone, she approached him slowly, feigning
nervousness.

   She stood in front of him, looking down at his feet, doing her best to
project an aura of innocence mixed with desperation.  "Please, sir.  I
really need a fix, but I don't have any money.  Any chance we could work
something out?"

   He regarded her silently for a moment and she felt his eyes running up
and down her body like a caress.  She almost laughed at the lust that rose
strongly within him.

   "Tell you what, bitch.  You suck my dick and I'll give you a half gram.
That's all your skanky ass is worth."

   Mia didn't know whether to be insulted or not.  She had no idea what
exactly he was selling.  So, she gave him a quavering smile and said,
simply, "Ok."

   He led her back to into the darkness of an alley.  He put his back to
the wall and pulled a gun from his waistband, tucking it into a coat pocket
before dropping his pants to his knees.

   His cock was at least ten inches long and was as thick as her wrist. 
Involuntarily, she let out a gasp at the sight of this magnificent specimen
of manhood.

   He laughed at her.  "You like the big dick, don't you, bitch?"

   Instead of responding, she lowered herself to her knees and leaned
forward to run her tongue up and down his length before taking the plum
sized head into her mouth, sucking it lightly.  She pumped her lips over
the last five inches of his member, seeking and eventually finding the
large wide vein that ran, pulsing with life, up its length.  On her next
downstroke, she extended her fangs, moaning in ecstasy at the feel of his
hot blood gushing in her mouth as she tore a gaping rent in the vulnerable
vessel.  At the first touch of her teeth to his sensitive manhood, the man
gasped in pain and reached for his gun.  Instantly, though, the pain was
replaced with previously unimaginable pleasure and he took her head gently
in his hands, the gun forgotten.  His knees gave way and he slid slowly
down the wall.  Mia followed his movements easily, supporting his weight
gently, tenderly as his strength faltered, keeping his hard length firmly
in her mouth.  Then he was cumming, shooting his semen into Mia's mouth
along with his blood and his life.  Mia devoured them all hungrily.

   After she had taken from him everything that he had to give, Mia dragged
his body deeper into the alley before partially concealing it with trash.
She regarded her intentionally incompetent efforts for a moment before
bending and pushing her fangs through his jugular, quickly wiping away any
saliva before the wounds could close.  Satisfied, she turned and left the
alley without making any effort to conceal herself.  Brazenly, she caught a
bus a mere block from the body and rode it to within a block of her
sanctuary.  The resulting pain was enough to double her over and the
driver, an ancient wrinkled man with kind eyes, came back to assist her,
offering to walk her to her door.  Shuddering at the thought how Arthur
would react if she accepted the offer, she politely declined and slowly and
painfully pulled herself out into the street.

   She waited until the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn
before hurrying into house and the safety of its basement.  Mercifully,
Arthur was already ensconced in his casket.  She settled into her own with
the satisfaction of knowing that she had managed to work around the bonds
of compulsion and had left a clear trail that led directly to this house,
not once but twice.  The long nightmare of her existence would likely come
to a close this day.

   Chapter 3



   Detective Thomas McNelly brought his battered Ford to a stop in front of
the apartment building and waited for the engine to rattle itself out
before laboriously prying his well over six foot frame from the cramped
interior.  He was not a handsome man by any common definition of the word.
Although still shy of forty, years of caffeine and nicotine addiction
combined with many sleepless nights had put gray streaks in his thinning
brown hair and had left spiderwebs of lines around his mouth and eyes.  It
didn't help that these features were on a face that even his mother had
been known to describe as "unremarkable".  Still, there was something about
him, perhaps the twinkle of kindness in his eyes , the deep smile wrinkles
at the edges of his mouth or the air of carefree good humor that surrounded
him, that inspired people to trust him.  As he quickly walked toward the
building, he showed no evidence of that good humor.  Frowning in irritation
he counted four - no - five, black and whites blocking off the street,
lights flashing blue and red.

   He slowed enough to allow a short, stout uniformed sergeant to catch up
and greet him, "Nice of you to finally join us, Detective."

   "Fuck you, Mark.  What can I say?  Your mom was just too horny to let me
leave."

   "Ha.  Funny." Despite the sarcastic tone, Sergeant Mark Kimmel did have
a grin stretched across his broad weathered face.  The grin abruptly
vanished, "You're going to love this one, Tom."

   "Before we get started, how about sending some of these squad cars away?
We're drawing a lot of attention here.  The last thing we want is more
media attention." The last was an understatement.  There had been at least
three murders and more than a score of missing persons in less than two
months and there had been no leads whatsoever.  The media had been getting
brutal, the articles growing increasingly scathing.  The mayor was unhappy,
to say the least.

   "Sure, no problem." Mark put action to his words and began to circulate
among the patrolmen, gruffly giving orders.  Soon only the two of them were
left on the street.

   Tom glanced around the suddenly empty street, "No ambulance.  No
coroner's van.  Please tell me the body hasn't been moved yet."

   Mark gave a quick shake of his head, "Sorry boss.  The body's been gone
since yesterday.  No one suspected foul play until the autopsy this
morning. If it's any consolation, the CME's livid.  He's threatening to
fire the poor schmucks who collected the body and didn't notice that he was
a gallon or so short and had a broken neck.  Although in their defense,
there's no sign of forced entry and no sign of a struggle.  The whole place
is meticulously neat.  The guy had a bit of an OCD thing going, I think. 
Murder wouldn't have been my first guess, either."

   "Any good news?"

   "The guy's family all live out of state.  They've been waiting for the
body to be released before coming in to close up his affairs.  So, the
apartment hasn't been disturbed since the guys from the coroner's office
were there."

   They started walking into the building.  "How was the body found?"

   "The victim didn't show up for work yesterday.  First day he's missed in
ten years.  His boss tried to call him and, when there was no answer, sent
an intern over to check on him.  Building manager unlocked the door for
him, but the chain was in place, so they called us.  The patrolman who
responded to the call broke the chain, found the body and called the
coroner."

   Tom followed Mark to the elevator and waited while Mark found and
pressed the button for the tenth floor.  "Has anyone talked to the
manager?"

   "Yeah.  Nothing there.  Said the victim was always quiet, paid his rent
in advance.  Yadda.  Yadda."

   "What do we know about the victim?"

   "Name is Lawrence Eugene Scripps.  Accountant.  Worked for that big firm
downtown.  Uh, Morris &..."

   "Appelton?"

   "Yeah, that's the place.  Never missed work.  Worked almost as much
overtime as you.  Everyone apparently liked him well enough, but no close
friends."

   "Injuries?  Cause of death?"

   "Same as the others.  Death was caused by massive blood loss.  No
apparent wounds.  Neck broken post mortem.  It looks like our killer is
moving on up to the nice part of town."

   "Shit."

   "Yeah."

   "Do we know the time of death?"

   "Not with any accuracy.  Bodies don't hold heat well when there's no
blood.  He was room temperature when the coroners got here.  Best we can
figure is sometime Monday night."

   They pulled latex gloves onto their hands as they walked down the hall
and ducked under the crime scene tape stretched across one of the doors. 
"Fingerprints?  Physical evidence?"

   "The CSI boys left right before you got here.  They found a number of
areas that had been wiped down recently.  They found some prints in other
places, but I wouldn't hold my breath.  I'd bet my dear sweet dick to your
dollar that they all belong to our dearly departed Mr.  Scripps.  They used
their vacuum in the bedroom, but you know how hit and miss fiber evidence
is.  Other than that, the place is clean."

   "Your dick isn't worth a dollar."

   "Hell, your mother pays me a lot more than that for it."

   "Ha.  Funny.", Tom parroted Mark's earlier words back to him with a
chuckle.

   They contemplated the compulsively clean apartment in silence.  Using
the end of a pencil, Tom poked unenthusiastically through the clothes
folded over the bedroom chair.

   "Tom?"

   "Yeah, Mark?"

   "How do you suppose the killer does it?  Gets the blood out, I mean."

   "I wish I knew.  I'd also like to know what the fuck he does with it
once it's out.  On second thought, I take that back.  Some things are
better left as a mystery."

   Tom pulled back the living room curtain and walked out onto the balcony.
Leaning on his elbows on the railing he looked down at the street before
turning and peering up and down the side of the apartment building.  Mark
came to the doorway.  "Think that's how our perp got in?"

   Tom sighed, "Only if our killer is the amazing fucking Spiderman."

   Tom moved to reenter the apartment, when something caught his eye. 
"Hey, Mark?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Come here and take a look at this."

   Mark ambled over and the men stood toe to toe, staring down at a glob on
the concrete floor of the balcony.

   "That what I think it is?"

   "Sure looks like a cum stain to me.  Get one of the boys from CSI back
over here to scrape that shit up.  Its been cold the past few days.  If
it's from Monday night, it might still be able to tell us something."

   "Sure thing, boss." Mark grabbed the radio from his belt to make the
call.

   "Oh, and Mark?  Now that we have reason to believe that Larry had
company on the night he died, send some patrolmen to the cab companies to
see if anyone remembers dropping him and a guest off."

   While Mark spoke rapidly into the radio, Tom stood and stared at the
glob that just might be the first real break in this nightmare.  The killer
was almost certainly a man; it took too much strength to cleanly snap
someone's neck for a female perp to be at all likely.  This glob of DNA
might be from the killer himself.  Tom could only hope that it was, and
that it led to a quick arrest.  People were dying in his city, people that
he had vowed to protect.  Tom wasn't naive, he knew that many of his fellow
officers didn't take the oath at all seriously, that for them this was
merely a job to pay the bills.  It was different for Tom.  He had known
what he wanted to be from the moment his father, also a career police
officer, had given him a toy badge and gun for his fifth birthday.  "To
protect and serve" were not merely words to Tom, they were a calling.

   Mark stuck his head out through the doorway, interrupting Tom's
thoughts. "Uh, Tom?  CSI is on the way."

   "Good."

   "Uh, that's not all.  Two more bodies were found within the last hour on
opposite sides of town.  Both drained of blood, but both have injuries. 
Other than the snapped neck, I mean."

   "Shit." There was usually a much longer break between the killings. 
"Think they're our boy's work?"

   "Only one way to find out, boss."

   "True, that.  You riding with me?"

   Mark considered this for a minute.  "Yeah, why not?  I'm in the mood for
living dangerously."

   As they settled into the tiny vehicle, Mark eyed his companion
critically, "So, any luck finding a good woman?"

   Tom rolled his eyes, Mark, a staunch proponent of the allegedly
innumerable benefits of marriage, had been nagging him on the subject since
they had been in the Academy together.  "Nope, not yet.", Tom replied
without rancor.

   "Pity.  All that fast food is making you fat."

   Tom involuntarily sucked his gut in.  He did his best to keep in shape,
jogging and going to the gym whenever the opportunities arose, but the
opportunities were arising less and less these days and it showed.  He had
taken to keeping the front of his suit buttoned up to hide the paunch that
was forming on his midriff.  It figured that Mark would notice anyway.  In
reply, Tom eyed his friend's ample waistline, "Yeah, married life has
certainly helped you stay slim and trim."

   Mark laughed, "Muscle.  It's all muscle, I tell ya."

   Both men suddenly remembered their destination, and the laughter choked
off.

   Chapter 4

   Arthur strolled through the city's cultural district, feeling a tinge of
excitement for the first time in decades.  It wasn't the upcoming show that
had him in this state, although he was curious to find out what passed for
opera in this backwater.  It was Mia.  The girl had always been something
of a disappointment.  Even after a century, he still had not managed to
purge her of such mortal conceits as compassion and mercy.  So, he had
abandoned his plans to make her his eternal companion and had begun to
shape her for another use.

   For years he had felt the resentment and disdain growing within her.  He
had pruned and tended these emotions with care both through the abuse of
her mind and body and with little excesses like that which had occurred the
previous night.  Now his careful gardening was about to pay dividends.

   The girl actually thought to destroy him.  Even now she was out in the
city doing her best to work around the ties of compulsion that bound her to
him in order to bring about his end.  He could feel Mia's pain through the
bond she was actively seeking to betray.  At the very thought of pathetic
betrayal, he threw his head back in laughter, heedless of the stares this
drew in the crowded street.

   Even in such a bold undertaking, though, Mia had proven to be overly
cautious, even timid.  His forcing her to watch as he defiled the young
woman the night before had dissipated the last of her reservations and,
incidently, had also increased the pleasure he had derived from the act.

   The conflict would be coming soon, and it promised to be every bit as
dramatic and entertaining as he had hoped.  And when others of his kind
came to seek vengeance against the one who had betrayed the secrecy of
their existence, it would be Mia who felt their wrath.  Meanwhile, the
inevitable war between mortal and vampire which would grow from the
conflict would not only give him the opportunity to indulge freely and
openly in all of the pleasures of the flesh, but would also make the one he
sought in coming to this city, the one whom he had been seeking for
centuries, reveal herself.  He knew his Maker was here, and he would find
her.

   He joined the growing crowd in front of the Byham theater, idly wishing
that top hats and canes hadn't gone out of fashion.  They had added an air
of elegance to such affairs that was now sadly lacking.  Shortly, the doors
opened and he filed in with the rest, a wolf among cattle.  As he moved
towards his seat, he casually brushed the minds of those around him. 
Finding a local magistrate, Arthur set a few minor suggestions deep in his
mind.  They would likely never activate, but it always paid to strengthen
his position whenever the opportunity arose.

   The next few hours passed quickly.  The performance was...adequate. 
Nothing to compare to the great opera houses of London and Paris, of
course, but acceptable nevertheless.  He joined the cattle when they stood
to applaud the performers after the curtain closed, but he had already put
the show from his mind.  Now his eyes searched among the crowd, seeking an
insurance policy against the coming violence.  A mere two rows back, he
found what he sought.

   He followed the couple as they left the theater, laughing happily and
reliving memorable parts of the night's entertainment.  As they passed
beyond the brightly lit streets of the cultural district to the more
shadowed rows of parking garages, long dormant instincts began to rise
within them.  Their pace quickened and they glanced behind them with
greater and greater frequency.  The happy conversation had come to an end
and Arthur could hear their hearts quicken in their chests.  Part of them
remembered the millennia spent on the African savannah.  Part of them
remembered what it was to be an animal.  That part knew that they had
become prey.

   By the time they reached their car, they were almost running.  Gasping
for breath, the man fumbled for his keys, pressing the button to unlock the
doors over and over again.  They threw the doors open and dove inside the
perceived safety of the vehicle.  Arthur heard them gasp in relief as the
locks re-engaged.  The moment the engine caught, the man threw the car into
gear and sped towards the garage exit.  Arthur smiled with amusement from
the shadows.

   Arthur easily kept pace with his quarry as they weaved recklessly
through the city traffic before finally pulling into a two car garage
attached to a stylish house in one of the affluent residential areas.  As
the garage door began to close, Arthur heard them laughing, deriding
themselves for giving into fears which suddenly seemed so foolish.  With a
final burst of speed, Arthur ducked under the garage door, which slammed
shut behind him like the sealing of a tomb.

   They sensed his presence and the laughter cut off.  Arthur listened as
the man issued tersely whispered instructions to his mate, telling her to
lock the car doors behind him, that it was just some punk and he would take
care of it.  The man came at him around the back of the car, swinging a
tire iron.  Arthur effortlessly caught the man's wrist and took the weapon
from him, reveling in the scent of fear that came off the man in waves.  It
was for the man that he had come, and causing him physical damage would
thwart Arthur's purpose.  Still, Arthur decided, it would be helpful if the
man were more malleable.  Arthur gathered his will and drove it into the
dark parts of the man's mind, opening the doors that held all of the man's
fears, nightmares and insecurities at bay.  Gibbering in terror, the man
collapsed to the floor in a growing puddle of urine.

   Walking along the car, Arthur regarded the plumply pretty woman who
cowered within.  He had no real use for her, but it was not in his nature
to pass by on such an opportunity.  Again he exerted his will.  The woman's
eyes widened in panic as her arm moved, seemingly of its own volition, to
unlock and open the door.  Arthur gently helped her to stand and, dragging
her husband behind him, led her into the place that had been, but a few
moments before, the couple's home and refuge.

   Arthur quickly located the living room and took a seat on the plush
leather couch.  Reaching into the woman's mind, he made several
adjustments. The fear faded from her eyes, replaced by lust.  Sinking to
her knees in front of Arthur, she desperately undid the zipper to his
pants. His engorged manhood immediately popped free, striking her in the
chin.  She swooped forward, taking most of his length into her mouth,
lashing the underside with her tongue.  Arthur reached next to the couch
and grasped her husband by the hair, pulling the man to his knees so he
could observe his wife's actions.  After a moment's consideration, Arthur
reached into the man's mind and diminished his terror just enough to ensure
that he could comprehend what he was seeing.

   Arthur enjoyed the woman's oral ministrations for a few minutes before
he made yet another adjustment, releasing her mind while retaining control
of her physically.  There was no pause in the rapid pumping of her lips up
and down the length of his cock, but her expression reverted from lust to
fear and hatred.  Arthur smiled.  Much better.

   After twenty minutes the woman began to tire, the pumping of her lips
slowing, the movement of her tongue becoming feeble.  With a gesture,
Arthur caused her to stand.  Reaching forward with a hand which had nails
that had suddenly grown into long sharp claws, Arthur tore her clothes from
her in a single savage swipe.  Arthur gestured again and the woman turned
and sat in his lap, taking his full length into her warm, wet cunt. 
Leaning slightly forward, the woman began to rapidly raise and lower
herself on Arthur's thick shaft, waves traveling through the soft flesh of
her wide, round ass each time it impacted with his pelvis.  With a slight
smile, Arthur reached yet again into the woman's mind, triggering orgasm
after orgasm, glorying in the waves of humiliation she exuded as she
experienced pleasure while riding the cock of her rapist.

   The woman's legs were quivering with exhaustion and rivers of sweat were
running down her back and ass when Arthur felt his own orgasm rising.  He
pushed the woman from his lap to the floor, making her twist around quickly
so that his seed sprayed across her face and chest.  The look of horror and
disgust on her husband's face added to Arthur's satisfaction.  After doing
a quick examination of the woman's mind, Arthur released her completely and
she collapsed sobbing to the floor, curling herself into a fetal ball.

   Arthur then turned his attention to the husband.  Arthur grabbed the
man's hair and pulled his head forward and to the side, exposing his neck..
Like a ravenous beast, Arthur lunged forward, burying his teeth into the
man's neck.  When the man's heart began to slow and falter, Arthur used the
clawlike nail on his forefinger to open the vein on his wrist and then
pressed the wound to the man's lips.  When the man's heart grew still,
Arthur threw him to the floor.  Propping his feet up on the sobbing woman,
Arthur turned the tv on to CNN and settled back into the couch to wait for
his new fledgling to rise.  A fledgling whose height, weight, and base
features were nearly identical to Arthur's.

   Chapter 5

   Mia lurked around the periphery of the ongoing investigation at the site
of the drug dealer's death, peering into the minds of the few policeman who
were left on the scene.  When she had awoken earlier in the evening she had
been sorely disappointed by the fact that she and her Master continued to
exist, despite all of her efforts to lead the police to their lair. 
Obviously, they were in need of greater inspiration.  She decided that she
would have to kill one of their own.  The logical choice being the one who
was heading the investigation.  While she regretted the necessity, she
could not abide even one more night of servitude to the monster that was
her Master.

   She had spent the first hour of the evening trying to think of a
pretense she could use as a reason to leave the house for the third night
in a row without raising her Master's suspicions.  It had been a surprise
when none had been needed.  In the middle of one of the endless shows he
watched on tv, her Master had stood and unceremoniously announced that he
was going to the opera and that she could pass the night however she
pleased.  It had taken all of her self control not to show her contempt for
this beast who remained so oblivious of her intentions.

   After waiting a short time to be certain that Arthur was well and truly
gone, Mia had come to this crime scene to learn the identity and probable
location of the man she had decided must die.  Now she had it.  Tonight
would be Tom McNelly's last.

   Tom pulled his decrepit car into the small reserved lot outside of the
drab apartment building in Polish Hill that he called home.  Today had been
the worst in Tom's memory.  The drug dealer had been bad enough.  The
coroner had quickly confirmed that the wounds on the neck were inflicted
post mortem.  Which meant....just the thought of it made him clutch his
hands protectively over his groin.  Far, far worse had been the woman in
Shadyside.  Tom had been to a number of murder scenes over the years and
had thought himself immune to the sight and smell of the horrors that one
person could perpetrate upon another.  He had been wrong.  One look at that
poor broken woman had been enough to send him running out the door to empty
the contents of his stomach in the carefully manicured topiary.  The
evidence there clearly showed that he had not been the first to do so.

   The worst part was that there was no apparent motive.  Nothing had been
taken from woman's house, Larry's apartment or the drug dealer's person. 
The latter had more than a thousand dollars and a gun in his coat pocket.
The only possibility that Tom could see was that the killer murdered his
victims just for the sheer pleasure of it.

   Tom vowed that when they caught the guy who was doing this, he would use
every ounce of his influence with the DA's office to make certain that they
pushed for the death penalty.  He would also kick the living shit out of
any defense attorney who dared try to get the guy off with an insanity
plea.

   Except it might not even be a guy.  They had quickly found the cabby who
had taken Lawrence Scripps and his guest from the nightclub to Scripps'
apartment.  The cabby had insisted that Scripps' companion was a blond
"hotty." The CSI team had also discovered that the blob of semen taken from
Scripps' balcony, while primarily belonging to Scripps himself, also
contained more than a trace of vaginal secretions.  It just didn't seem
possible that the perp could be a woman, especially in light of the scene
in Shadyside.  Could there be two serial killers working together, a man
and a woman?  It was uncommon, but it supposedly did happen.  Tom had sent
sketch artists to visit the cabby and the nightclub and should have a
composite by morning.  With luck he would have the woman, and the answers
he craved, by the end of the day.

   Halfway to his apartment, Tom decided that he couldn't face the night
without some liquid fortification.  Reversing his direction, he went to the
corner bar.  The bar, Zelda's Tavern, catered to the working class and,
typical of such places, its interior was plain, but clean, the bar was well
stocked, but the only beers available on tap were Iron City and Budweiser.
When he entered, the bartender gave him a friendly nod; Tom didn't come
here often enough for the man to know his name.  Tom sat himself in one of
the corner stools, ordered a double shot of JD with an Iron City chaser and
dedicated himself to drowning the day's images from his mind.

   He had only been there a few minutes, staring down into the depths of
his beer, when he heard the barstool to his left being dragged outwards. 
"Hello.", said a soft feminine voice, "It looks like you've had a rough
day."

   "Yeah, it was bad.", Tom answered automatically.  Glancing towards the
speaker, he saw that she was a beautiful young blond, too well dressed for
a place like Zelda's.  Fishing into his jacket pocket, Tom pulled out his
badge and flashed it.  "Look, honey, I'm a cop.  There hasn't been any
solicitation, so I'm not going to try to bust you or hassle you, but you
really might want to take your business elsewhere."

   The young woman looked confused for a moment and then her eyes went cold
and flat.  "I'm not a prostitute.", she said in a low, frosty voice, "You
just looked like a lost puppy that had been kicked a few times, so I
thought you could use someone to talk to.  But, now I think I'll do as you
suggest and 'take my business elsewhere.'"

   Tom immediately felt like shit, and admitted to himself that he deserved
to.  "I'm really sorry, miss.  You just look a lot better than this place's
usual clientele and I jumped to conclusions.  Occupational hazard.  Can we
start over?  Hi, I'm Tom.", he said as he held out his hand.

   The woman appeared to have been slightly mollified by the apology and
indirect compliment, but she still took his hand as though it was covered
in festering boils.  "Mia.", she said simply.

   Several hours and more than a few drinks later, Tom was leading the
beautiful Mia up the stairs to his apartment.  Never before had he met a
woman who was so easy to talk to, and he had talked.  A lot.  More than he
should have.  It was an odd role reversal for Tom, who had often inspired
confidences but rarely given them.  If Mia turned out to be with the media,
the chief was going to have a conniption.  But, he had to admit, even if
this turned out to be the case, it had been worth it.  Sharing his fears
and the guilt he felt over not being able to bring the killer to justice
had been almost like giving confession.  His soul and mind felt less
burdened then they had in years, and he had this kind woman to thank for
it.

   He was shocked that she was still with him.  When he had brought his
long monologue to an end, he had realized with embarrassment that he knew
nothing about her, that her part in the hours long conversation had been
limited to the occasional compassionate murmur of understanding. 
Shamefaced, he had noticed that she hadn't even touched her drink.  He had
been certain that the poor girl must think him a bore and had apologized
and said a hasty good night.  She had given him a look brimming with
compassion and had asked, "Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?" He
had gladly accepted the offer.

   He paused at one of the landings and turned toward Mia.  She flowed
willingly, even eagerly, into his arms and their lips met passionately. 
His tongue darted out and her's rose in response, the two twining together
in wanton abandon.  For a time he lost himself in the feel of her firm body
against his, her heavy breasts crushing into his chest, her soft lips
against his.

   She disengaged with a smile and grasped his wrist firmly, using it to
drag him toward the next flight of steps.  "Which floor?", she queried over
her shoulder as she pulled him along behind him.

   "Two more.", he answered and then they were there.  Again she pressed
herself to him passionately, but suddenly disengaged.

   She looked down at their feet and, in a mildly embarrassed tone, asked,
"I really hate to ask, but would you mind if I took a quick shower first?
It's been a long day and...".

   Tom almost groaned in frustration, but he could understand.  He forced a
smile on his face, "Sure you can.  Bathroom's right at the end of the
hall." She moved past him, and his gaze traveled up her shapely stocking
covered legs to the round, full ass encased by a tight wool skirt.  As he
watched her full bottom sway gently and provocatively from side to side as
she walked down the hall, he whispered to himself, "Damn.  Like two puppies
fighting under a blanket."

   She seemed surprised when he slipped into the small shower stall with
her, but quickly moved away to make room for him and then back to resume
their interrupted kiss.  He almost yelped when the scalding hot water hit
his chest and reached toward the spigot to add more cool water to the mix.

   "Please don't.", she whispered, "I've been freezing all day and I just
can't seem to get warm." Now that she mentioned it, he noticed that she did
feel cold against him.  Instinctively, he pulled her even closer, seeking
to warm her body with his own.  He took the body wash from the shower shelf
and started to bathe her with long caressing strokes up and down her
smooth, well muscled back and the firm, lush curves of her ass, reveling in
the feel of her soft, soap slippery skin beneath his hands.  As he did so,
she twined her arms around his neck and leaned into him, breathing hard
against his neck.  When he finally decided that her back was clean enough,
he gently turned her around and began to give her front the same treatment.
He hefted her breasts lightly in his hands before sliding his hands upwards
to rub and gently pinch her nipples until they stood hard and erect.  She
shivered, her arms falling limply to her sides while her head fell back to
rest on his shoulder.

   He slowly moved his hands down her flat, hard stomach, making certain to
wash every last inch.  When he reached the juncture of her thighs, her
shivering increased and she slowly slid her legs apart to make room for his
hands.  He ran his finger, lightly and gently, across her perineum, up
between her labia to her clitoris.  There his finger lightly circled and
caressed the little nubbin, pausing occasionally to gently pull on the hood
that surrounded it.  Leaning his head towards hers, he began to softly
nibble and lick at her neck and earlobe.  He continued until her arms went
suddenly up and back, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she shook
and quivered against him before going so limp in his arms that he had to
hurriedly catch her before she slid to the floor.  He held her up,
continuing to kiss her neck and shoulders, as she regained her composure.
"Does your hair need washed?", he whispered in her ear.  Mutely, she nodded
her head rapidly a few times in response.

   He leaned her back into the shower spray, shielding her eyes from the
water with the side of his hand.  Filling his palm with shampoo, he began
to firmly massage it into her scalp with all ten fingers, gradually working
the shampoo through all of her long blond tresses before rinsing and
repeating the procedure with conditioner.  Throughout the process, she
stood bonelessly in his arms, panting lightly, eyes closed in pleasure.

   When he finished the final rinse, her eyes slowly opened and, with a
widening smile, she threw herself against him with wild abandon, locking
her lips to his in frenzied passion.  He led her from the shower and gently
dried her and, far more brusquely, himself, before lifting her in his arms
and carrying her to his bed



   After laying her gently down on his pillows, thanking fate that he had
actually washed his linens fairly recently, he bent and kissed her lips,
losing himself in their softness for a time.  Breaking their embrace, he
kissed, licked and nibbled a path down the line of her jaw and then down
her neck.  When he reached her breasts, he ran his tongue firmly over the
entire surface of one before sucking the nipple lightly into his mouth and
teasing it with his tongue.  Turning his head, he repeated the process on
the other.  Mia cradled his head gently in her arms, making little mewls of
pleasure.  Once both nipples were standing hard and proud, shiny with his
saliva, he kissed and licked his way down the center of her stomach,
pausing only briefly to tongue the slight indentation of her navel.  She
suddenly gripped his shoulders tightly.  "What are you doing?", she asked
in astonishment.  Tom couldn't believe that a woman so beautiful and sexy
had never had someone go down on her, but that was apparently the case. 
With a broad grin, Tom whispered, "Shhh, lay back and relax.  I think
you'll like it."

   Her body still tense, she followed his instructions.  Tom continued on
his path, moving down to nibble and lick at her inner thighs while he
admired her smooth shaven sex.  Her labia were the lightest pink in color
and had flowered open in arousal revealing the oily wet interior.  Her clit
was large and erect, protruding from its hood by a good half inch.  With a
groan of desire, Tom moved forward and sucked the button of flesh
ever-so-gently into his mouth, grazing it lightly with his tongue.  Mia let
out a long, deep moan, throwing her head back in ecstacy while seizing his
head in her hands and pulling him more firmly into her.  Tom released his
hold on her clit before it became too sensitive and ran the flat of his
tongue down across her labia before wiggling it into her entrance, which
was still hot from the shower.  He alternated running his tongue around and
between the thick lips with gently licking and teasing her clit, until her
thighs clamped tightly around his head and her stomach arched sharply
upwards.  When her orgasm was at its height, he sucked her clit lightly
into his mouth again.  Instantly, she let out a scream of pleasure and
every muscle in her body spasmed in release.

   Finally, her body settled back onto the bed and went limp.  Tom laid his
head on her thigh and peered upwards to find her looking down at him with
eyes wide in amazement.  Suddenly leaning forward, she grasped him under
the arms and pulled him firmly and easily back up her body where she
fervently, almost desperately, locked him in a kiss.  He marveled at her
strength for a moment before he was again lost in the passion of her
embrace.

   After a long while she broke the kiss and asked, almost shyly, "How
about if I return the favor?" An image of the drug dealer's terminal injury
flashed suddenly in Tom's mind and he could only shake his head no.  She
smiled in understanding; and he recalled that he had shared that story with
her earlier.  Reaching down between their bodies, she grasped his steel
hard member lightly and guided it to her entrance.

   With a sigh of pleasure, Tom pushed himself forward into her hot, liquid
depths.  The moment he bottomed out, she looked up at him with a
mischievous grin and he suddenly felt the muscles of her channel grip and
release him all up and down his length.  It was his turn to look at her in
amazement.  She giggled lightly and pulled him in for another kiss.  Soon
they fell into the timeless and ancient rhythms of the union of man and
woman, her body rising up to meet his thrusts again and again.  The room
was filled with the sounds of their low moans of pleasure and the wet,
rhythmic sounds of their coupling.

   Lost in pleasure, Tom felt his release rising inside of him when he
suddenly realized that they weren't using protection.  He pulled his lips
back from hers and she leaned forward to silence his unasked question with
another kiss.  "Don't worry, you can't get me pregnant.", she whispered,
"Cum in me!" Tom eagerly obeyed, thrusting himself fully into her as he
shot stream after stream of jism deep inside her.  She pulled him to her
and nuzzled his neck.  Briefly, he felt her teeth, which seemed
exceptionally sharp, drag across his skin, but then she pushed him back
slightly and crushed her lips to his.

   They laid together like that until his cock softened slipped from her
still clenching channel.  Tom fell heavily on his back next to Mia, still
panting happily.  She cuddled up to his side with her head resting on his
shoulder and wrapped him in a loose embrace.  He tried to stay awake, not
wanting the night to end, but sleep claimed him all too soon.

   Mia waited until his breathing became deep and regular in sleep before
disengaging herself and standing by the bed.  Extending her will like a
caress, she made certain that he would not wake until after she was gone.

   She watched him sleep for a time, her mind racing.  She had come here to
kill him.  She had thought it would be easy when he had essentially called
her a whore even before introducing himself.  But during the subsequent
outpouring of his soul, which she had carefully nurtured along with gentle
nudges of compulsion, her resolve had begun to weaken.  He hadn't known any
of the victims, but he cared for them nevertheless.  Each new death and
disappearance had struck him like a blow and he considered each to be his
personal failure for not being good enough to put a stop to the killer. 
Unknowing, she had already caused him so much pain.

   When they came to his apartment, she had still intended to carry out her
plan, although she had decided to fill his last hours with pleasure as some
small measure of recompense.  Then he had surprised her again by giving
more thought to her pleasure than to his own.  He had done things for her
that no man had ever done before, even before the Change.  He had even
brought her to orgasm, not once but twice, which she hadn't believed was
possible outside of feeding.  By the time he had found his pleasure inside
of her, her resolve had failed completely.  He was a good man, a kind man
and she could not bring herself to end his life.  In fact, it pained her
that in a few hours he would learn that she was the killer and would hate
her for it.

   She suddenly realized that she could accomplish her purpose without his
death.  She gazed around the room until she located a post-it pad and a
pen. Even as she grasped these items, pain lashed through her entire body,
driving her first to her knees and then to her stomach.  Gasping with the
effort, she laboriously scratched the pen on the pad for a moment and then
laid still, waiting for the pain to fade enough to allow her to stand.

   She felt another brief stab of pain as she stuck the brief note on the
pillow that she had occupied moments before and longed to occupy again. 
She bent and kissed him lightly and then she was gone.

   Chapter 6

   Tom was saddened when he woke to a blaring alarm clock and an empty bed.
He had truly hoped that Mia would still be there.  He rolled over and
caught sight of the note stuck to the pillow.  His lips puckered in
confusion as he read the rough, childlike scrawl.  She had left an address
but not a phone number.  How decidedly odd.  Still, he supposed it was an
invitation to see her again.

   He quickly got ready for work and went out the door, only realizing
belatedly that he had been whistling happily the entire time.

   When he arrived at the station, Mark met him at his desk with a hot cup
of the vile substance that passed for coffee.

   As Tom accepted the cup, Mark gave him a quick double take and arched an
eyebrow in suspicion, "And just what are you so friggin' happy about this
morning, boss?" Then his eyes widened in malicious glee, "Oh my lord, you
got laid, didn't you?  Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick!  Here, I was starting
to think that you might have gone all poofster on us."

   Tom fixed his friend with a look of mock indignation.  "Describing what
happened to me last night as getting laid is like describing the finest
seven course meal at the Grand Concourse as chowing down."

   "Ha!  Details!  Give me details!"

   "Pfft.  A gentleman never tells.  Especially not to brutish louts like
yourself."

   Mark clutched his hand to his chest, "Brutish lout?!  You wound me to
the quick, sir.  I may have to thumb my teeth at you."

   "Heh.  Good to see you're actually getting some use out of that English
lit degree."

   "It never hurts to bring out a touch of class to brighten the lives of
poor ignorant slobs.  Besides, I get a lot of use from my degree.  You
should read some of my incident reports.  Works of art they be."

   "Well, before you launch into a scene from Hamlet to dazzle me with your
brilliance, is there any chance my composite is ready?"

   "Sure is, boss.  Girlie looks like she should be in Playboy and not on
the post office wall."

   Tom chuckled as he accepted the sheet of paper Mark handed him.  And
then his world reeled, the cup of coffee falling from suddenly nerveless
fingers to spatter across the floor.  Mark rushed to his side and grabbed
his arm in support, concern writ large on his every feature.  "What's the
matter, Tom.  Talk to me."

   Tom's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to choke
out, "It's her."

   "It's who, Tom?"

   "Mia.  The woman I was...with last night."

   "Jesus Christ, Tom!  You slept with the worst serial killer in this
city's history?" Mark flushed as he realized how undiplomatic he was being
and asked in a quieter tone, "What the fuck is going on, boss?"

   "I wish to hell I knew, Mark.  I really do."

   "Well, we've had two cabbies give us a positive id and both dropped her
off in roughly the same area in North Oakland.  There are patrolman on
their way now to canvas the neighborhood to see if anyone knows where she
lives.  With a little luck, you should be able to ask her yourself in a
bit."

   Tom looked at his friend blankly for a moment and then groped in his
pocket for a moment before pulling out a rumpled post-it.  "I think I
already know where she is."

   Chapter 7

   Tom crawled slowly through rush hour traffic, praying his pathetic
excuse for a car wouldn't overheat, the red flashing light he had affixed
to the roof proving to be almost completely ineffective at clearing his
path.  The day had been an exercise in frustration.  Four times the
magistrate had screwed up the warrant, requiring it to be retyped and then
taken through the channels all over again.  If he hadn't worked with the
man on numerous times in the past, Tom would have believed him to be an
imbecile.

   The SWAT team, Mark and a number of black and whites had been standing
by at the address that Mia had given him since ten a.m.  It was now well
past five.  Oddly, they had reported no activity in the house, though
neighbors had reported that a dapper middle aged man lived there with a
woman matching Mia's description.  Tom wondered, not for the first time, if
Mia had played him for a fool.  Somehow, he still couldn't believe that she
had.

   Cursing loudly as the light turned red for the third time with no
discernable movement in the line of cars, Tom pulled out his cell phone and
punched in Mark's number.

   "Yeah, boss?"

   "I finally got a valid warrant, but I'm stuck in traffic and it could
take me another hour to get there.  It's your call.  If you want to make
the entry now, you have my blessing.  I'll be there with the warrant as
fast as I can."

   "The SWAT boys have been getting a little antsy, and it would be nice to
have a wee bit of light when we clear the place.", Mark reasoned.  "Hey
boss, I promise that everyone will know that it's important to take them
alive."

   "Thanks, Mark."

   "No problem.  See ya soon."

   Mark gave the order to move and then followed the SWAT team in.  It
wasn't strictly protocol, but he loved to watch the elite unit at work. 
Besides, the day had been one long clusterfuck and he was anxious to at
least be doing something besides cooling his heels.  As he walked across
the lawn of the old house, the sun sank below the horizon.  Idly, he wished
that the city had sprung for the IR gear as it would have made this a lot
easier.

   Mia's eyes sprang open in the pitch black of her casket.  She could feel
that there were a number of armed men in the house.  She cursed softly. 
What had taken them so long to get here?  Why had they come too late?  A
new worry rose in her mind: what if Tom were among them?

   As Mia opened the lid of her casket, she saw her Master glance her way
with a look of pure malice on his face.  "We have guests, my dear.", Arthur
said calmly.  "Come with me and let us make them pay dearly for their
trespass." Mia's body began responding automatically to the command.  There
was no chance of disobedience.  Her Master began walking towards the cellar
steps, power rising around him.  Mia shied back, her eyes widening in fear.
Her kind grew stronger over time and she knew that Arthur, who was much
older than she, was also a great deal more powerful, but she had never
suspected anything of the magnitude he was displaying now.  As she hurried
to catch up to him in obedience to his command, all the moisture in the air
coalesced into a thick fog that flowed and eddied about them, rising
upwards through the house.

   Mark leaned against a wall as the SWAT team quickly searched and cleared
the three story structure.  All that remained was the basement and the team
had regrouped to clear that final area.  As they approached the basement
stairs, a thick white mist flowed outwards from the dark opening.  The well
trained SWAT team responded without thought, shouldering their weapons for
the few seconds it took to don their gas masks before bringing those
weapons back to bear.  His gas mask, of course, lay forgotten in the trunk
of his car.

   Mark began to hurriedly back away from the mist when two figures
appeared out of its depths, one obviously female.  Laser sights homed in on
the silhouettes, but most were reflected or diffracted by the mist.  "Get
down and put your hands on your heads!", commanded the team leader.

   "No.  I think not.", the male figure replied calmly.

   Both figures suddenly lunged forward in a blur of motion.  Mark could
only track their movement by the eddies they left in the fog behind them.
The rapid movements of the team's gun mounted flashlights created something
akin to a strobe effect as the team went hot.

   Mark gaped as both figures moved impossibly, sinuously fast avoiding the
lines of bullets that converged upon them.  Then the woman had one of the
point men by the throat, lifting him one handed and squeezing.  Even over
the gunfire, Mark could hear the sound of snapping bone.  The man had moved
to the middle ranks of the team and lashed out around him with impossible
speed.  It looked...oh dear god no...the man had claws.  Fucking claws!  In
a matter of seconds five men were down staring sightlessly above throats,
chests and Kevlar vests that had been torn to ribbons.  Hot red blood
splashed darkly on the faded paneling on the walls.  Catching motion from
the end of the hall, Mark watched as the woman lifted the other point man
face up above her head before bringing him down across a bent knee,
snapping his back like a twig.  Mark's gaze snapped back to the man who was
approaching one of the last men in the line.  The team member brought his
gun up and emptied the remainder of his clip into the man's chest at point
blank range.  The man merely smiled in amusement as his clawed hand blurred
forward, thrusting through the team member's body armor and chest before
emerging in a gout of blood from his back

   As the man freed his arm, the woman moved forward until she was standing
directly in front of Mark.  Mark suddenly realized that he was the last cop
left standing in the hall.  The woman stalked towards him, her mouth
falling open to reveal long, needlesharp fangs.

   Mark tried to run, but his legs were frozen in fear and he fell over
backwards.  Desperately he started to crab walk backwards towards the door.
All the while, the woman came closer.  The man rushed past him in a blur
and Mark could hear gunfire and then screams which suddenly cut short as
the man fell upon the uniformed patrolmen who surrounded the house.

   Mark knew his death was rapidly approaching and the certainty of it had
a surprisingly calming effect.  "Fuck it," he thought.  "I've lived a
decent life and Tom will take of my family when I'm gone.  Poor Tom.  He's
going to have one hell of a time coping with this.  Hope he's not too hard
on himself.  Who could have guessed that we were after friggin' vampires?!"

   The woman's face suddenly twisted in what looked to Mark like pain.  She
grabbed the front of his bulletproof vest, easily lifting his bulk off the
floor one handed.  Holding him in front of her, she stepped through the
front door to the porch.  Her face again contorted in pain as she bent her
arm back and hurled Mark across the yard into the unkempt hedges that
marked the property line.  He crashed through the shrubbery, feeling the
sharp broken tips of the sticks piercing his flesh everywhere that it
wasn't protected by Kevlar.  He felt liquid warmth spreading outwards from
numerous injuries.  "Well, shit.", he thought before everything went black.

   Mia watched her Master stride towards her over the broken, motionless
bodies of numerous policemen, his lips pulled back from bloody teeth in
jubilation.  "It has begun, child.", he said.  "Let us be gone from this
place." With those words, he turned and ran into the darkness.  Mia
hesitated, her eyes widening in wonder.  He had not specified a direction
or destination.  With only slight pain at disobeying the unstated intent of
his command, she turned in the opposite direction from that he had taken
and ran with all the speed she could muster.  After a few minutes she felt
his confusion over her actions through their bond.  This was quickly
followed by rage.  It slowly faded with distance.

   Chapter 7

   Tom listened to the operation over the radio and had heard the orderly
commands and replies of the SWAT team turn to gunfire and screams of pain
followed by silence.  He arrived at the premises less than five minutes
later to find a scene straight out of hell.  Bodies in blue uniforms lay
everywhere, the entire scene painted in the rich carmine hues of fresh
blood.  He stared numbly for a moment, wondering how something like this
could possibly have happened.  He finally tore his eyes from the grisly
scene and hurriedly put in the call for ambulances and back up before
searching for survivors.

   Mark was the only person he found still alive among the carnage, and
Mark had lost so much blood that he might not remain so for long.  Although
it had pained him to do so, Tom left Mark impaled in the hedges, knowing
that if he pulled him loose it would increase the blood loss.  He applied
what little first aid he could through the thick branches, while beseeching
Mark to "just hold on".

   Moments later, ambulances and squad cars descended on the place in a
wail of sirens and a glare of flashing lights.  The paramedics immediately
started Mark on a unit of blood before cutting him from the hedges with
bolt cutters, leaving the branches stuck in his body wherever they could.

   Tom rode to the hospital in the back of Mark's ambulance and had waited
with Mark's wife, Jenny, for more than two hours before one of the doctors
emerged from the operating room.  Tom and Jenny rushed to intercept him.

   "How is he, doctor?", Tom blurted out, realizing belatedly that he
probably should let Jenny ask the questions.  The slight resentment on her
face showed that he was correct.

   The doctor raised his hands in a placating manner, and a tired smile
appeared faintly on his lips.  "He lost a lot of blood and a number of
major veins and arteries were lacerated.  However, we got the worst of the
damage patched up, and replaced most of the lost fluids.  His condition is
stable and we expect a full recovery."

   Tom sagged in relief and missed Jenny's next few queries to the doctor,
snapping his attention back to the conversation only when she asked, "How
soon can we see him."

   The doctor's voice was sympathetic, "He's in post-op right now under
observation.  He's still unconscious, which is not unusual given the extent
of his injuries.  Unless complications arise, we'll likely move him to the
IC ward in about an hour.  Once there, he will be allowed visitors on a
very limited basis.  I'm sorry, but we really can't have him getting
excited at all for a time."

   Tom and Jenny both nodded their understanding.  The doctor motioned Tom
off to the side and leaned in close, "I've been told what happened,
Detective.  I understand that you need some answers and that the nature of
the situation is such that you need them ASAP.  When Mr.  Kimmel wakes up,
you can have five minutes with him.  I'll have to insist that I remain in
the room to monitor his condition throughout the conversation."

   Tom nodded his acceptance of the conditions, "Thanks, Doc." He then went
to explain the situation to Jenny.  She wasn't happy, but she had accepted
the conditions that came with Mark's profession long ago.

   It was an hour before the doctor came to lead Tom to the IC ward.  Mark
was encased in a corona of plastic tubes and swathed in bandages, his eyes
squinted in pain, his skin pale.  Tom squeezed in among the acres of
blinking and beeping machines that surrounded the bed and reached out to
take his friend's hand.  As the sheer volume of Mark's injuries became
apparent, Tom felt his eyes begin to tear.

   Mark looked up at him and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. 
"You pussy.", he croaked, "Cops don't cry."

   "Shuddup, I was just feeling bad for the guy who got his ass kicked by a
bush.  I mean just imagine what the guys at the station are going to have
to say about this.", Tom shook his head sadly before striking a dramatic
pose with the back of his hand across his forehead, "Ph, the humiliation!"

   Mark started to laugh but immediately collapsed in a fit of coughing. 
Both men noticed the doctor tapping his watch pointedly.

   When Mark got his coughing under control, he motioned Tom to lean in
closer.  "I see you need the abridged version, so I'll make it quick.  Our
two perps were there, your girl and a guy who dressed like some scumbag
lawyer.  They were unarmed, but they still went through all of our guys
like nothing.  Tom, you're not going to believe this, but the guy had
fucking claws on his fingers.  I'm not talking Freddy Krueger knife shit
either, but real honest-to-god claws.  Claws that went through Kevlar like
paper.  He killed most of our men with them.  One of the SWAT team emptied
an M16 in the monster's chest and he fuckin' smiled about it before putting
his fist right through the poor fucker.  And your girl....shit, man, your
girl had three inch long fangs and broke a guy in half over her knee like
it was nothing."

   Mark collapsed backwards on his pillow and licked his lips before
continuing, "They moved so fast.  Too goddamned fast.  She was going to
kill me, Tom.  I knew it.  She was coming for me and there wasn't anything
I could do to stop her.  But she didn't.  Tom, don't ask me why, but I
think not killing me hurt her."

   Mark grinned slightly at the look of incredulity on Tom's face, "Yeah, I
know.  I don't believe in fucking vampires either.  Believe in them or not,
though, that's exactly what they were.  Fucking vampires."

   The doctor was looking at one of the monitors with alarm, and sharply
gestured that Tom's time was up.  With a final squeeze of his friends hand,
Tom said, "Rest up and get better, Mark.  I swear I'll find them."

   Mark looked up sadly, meeting Tom's eyes, "I'd be a lot more worried
about them finding you.  Be careful, Tom.  Good luck."

   As the doctor ushered Tom from the room, he said, "We're not going to
allow any visitors other than his wife until tomorrow.  IC visiting hours
are from noon to one and six to seven.  No more than two visitors in the
room at a time."

   Tom shook the doctor's hand.  "Thanks, Doc.  You heard what he said?" At
the doctor's terse nod, Tom continued, "Is he delusional?"

   The doctor hesitated a moment before answering, "Extreme blood loss has
been known to cause delusions.  But, I have to tell you, word has been
filtering up from the morgue.  From what I've heard, no human being, not
even one on fatally large doses of PCP, could have caused those injuries.
I.....I'm having a hard time with the idea of vampires being real.  Another
possibility is that they had characteristics that fit with the myths
surrounding vampires so that's what your friend decided they were.  Maybe
they're mutants or the result of some government experiment to create super
soldiers." The doctor seemed to realize what he was saying and broke off
with an embarrassed chuckle.  "I know these guesses are almost as
implausible as vampires, but I have an easier time with them than the idea
of the dead rising to feed on the living.  Hell, I don't know what to tell
you other than, whatever they are, they're undoubtedly dangerous.  Follow
you're friend's advice and be careful."

   The idea of going back to his apartment was completely unappealing, so,
after leaving the hospital, Tom had driven to the station to get the
paperwork related to the night started.  The death of over thirty of his
fellow officers brought with it a mountain of paperwork.  How could they
have lost an entire SWAT team, no matter what the nature of the targets? 
It was the first time ever that such a thing had happened since SWAT teams
were first implemented in 1967.

   As he had waded through the fringes of the daunting mound of forms, his
mind turned again and again to what Mark and the doctor had told him at the
hospital.  Could there really be vampires running amuck in his city?  Were
they the undead of myth?  It suddenly occurred to him to wonder, if they
were undead, did that make him a necrophiliac?  How the hell was he going
to explain this to the chief?

   It was going on three in the morning when Tom finally decided to go home
to get some rest.  As he staggered down the hallway leading to his
apartment, he noticed that light was shining out from under his door.  All
thought of sleep vanished as adrenalin rushed through hid body.  Drawing
his gun, he moved slowly and silently to the door and listened, but could
hear nothing.  He took his keys from his pocket and, as quietly as
possible, unlocked the door and eased it open.

   He moved carefully into the interior of the apartment, his eyes
searching all of the corners and shadows of the entry hall.  He crept to
the living room and there was Mia sitting on his couch, her arms wrapped
around the knees she had pulled tightly to her chest.

   "Put your hands where I can see them.  No sudden moves or I swear I'll
shoot.", he commanded.

   Mia slowly turned her head towards him, a look of sadness and loss on
her face.  "Relax, Tom.  If I had come here to kill you, you would already
be lying on the floor in a pile of your own entrails."

   Tom's gun didn't waver.  "What did you come here to do?"

   Instead of answering, Mia again lowered her forehead to the tops of her
knees.  She began speaking in a low monotone.  "For centuries people have
been telling their children that there is nothing to fear in the dark, that
there are no monsters.  In this, they are doing their children a grave
disservice.  There are beasts that lurk in the night.  Watching.  Waiting.
Hungering." She looked up at him again, her face expressionless.  "I am one
of them."

   "Let me ask you one thing: why didn't you kill Mark?"

   "I assume you're referring to the stout cop?" At Tom's nod, Mia
continued.  "Your friend spent what he believed to be his last thoughts
worrying about you.  Under the circumstances I couldn't bring myself to
kill him."

   "But you were fine with killing everyone else?"

   Mia winced and whispered, "Two, only two." She sighed and continued in a
stronger voice, "My Master's express instruction had been to 'make the
intruders pay for their trespass.' That left me some room for
interpretation, even though I knew that his intent was that I kill.  With
the first two men I engaged, there was nothing to conflict with that
intent, so I killed.  With your friend, there was a conflict, so I was able
to obey the express command while slightly ignoring the intent at the price
of pain." She paused a moment before whispering, "If my Master's command
had been to 'kill the intruders', your friend would be dead."

   "Bullshit.  You chose to kill.  The whole, 'I was just following orders'
defense went out with Nuremberg."

   Mia's eyes narrowed in anger.  "You know nothing!", she spat.  "When
a....when one of my kind creates a fledgling, at least an intelligent
fledgling, a bond is formed.  This bond compels the fledgling to absolutely
obey every command, every whim, of the Master.  When an order is given, the
fledgling obeys even if every fiber of her being cries out against it. 
Even worse, the bond reacts to the fledgling's thoughts.  If the fledgling
knows the intent behind a directive, the bond holds the fledgling to that
intent, though to a lesser degree than to an express order.  The bond has
other properties as well.  If a fledgling would ever raise his or her hand
against the Master, seeking to do the Master direct physical harm, the
fledgling's life, such as it is, would be snuffed out in an instance. 
Again, the bond responds to thought.  If a fledgling knows that he or she
is betraying the Master with the intent to bring about harm directly or
indirectly, the fledgling will pay the price of treachery in pain.  The
greater the betrayal, the more it hurts."

   "But after almost two months of no leads whatsoever, you took a cab
almost directly to your house twice and gave me your address..."

   Mia locked eyes with him challengingly, "Some things are worth hurting
for.  My Master's destruction is one of them."

   Tom considered this for a moment, before asking softly, "What are you,
exactly, Mia?"

   Mia sighed and her eyes grew unfocused, "I was born in western Russia
during the reign of Nicholas I.  I have no idea what year.  The people of
my village were strong and proud, direct descendents of the Vikings that
had colonized the land.  They were also poor and had no interest in marking
time other than was necessary to know when to plant and harvest.  During
what would become known as the Crimean War, the army of the Ottoman empire
passed near my village and its raiders came to plunder us for food.  We had
none to give, so they killed our men and violated our women.  I was left
for dead, naked in the street.  I knew I was dying.  Then a man came and
offered me life in exchange for servitude.  I agreed, not knowing that I
was making a deal with the devil.  He bit me and drank my remaining life
while forcing me to drink his blood.  Everything went black.  When I woke
the following night, I was Changed.  My thoughts, hopes, dreams, and
desires were unchanged, but they were subjugated to the both the bond and
the hunger.  I don't know which is worse, the need to feed or always being
able to feel him." She gestured vaguely to the west.

   "And then?"

   Mia hesitated, clearly not wanting to continue her story, but finally
she continued with a sigh.  Tom's eyes widened in horror as she recounted
over a hundred and fifty years of physical and mental torture in a flat,
cold voice.  As she spoke he first lowered his gun and then sat it on an
end table while sinking into the chair opposite the couch.

   When she had finished, Tom asked gently, "You still haven't told me why
you came here, Mia?"

   She met his eyes and, in the forlorn voice of a lost child, said,
"Because I had no place else to go." She hesitated a moment before adding,
"I know I need to die for my crimes.  That being so, I would ask that you
be the one to put an end to my existence." Without waiting for a response,
she reached next to the couch and picked up what appeared to be a two foot
length of fence post that had been crudely broken off and sharpened.  She
opened the top buttons of her blouse and placed the pointed wood on her
chest between the inner curves of her round breasts.  She then said
quietly, "If you drive it in right here, this should do the job.  Or, we
can sit here until the sun rises.  Its direct touch is death to us."

   Tom gaped at her incredulously for a moment before standing and moving
to sit by her side.  He grabbed the stake from her hand and tossed it
carelessly across the room before taking her in his arms.  She stiffened
for a moment, her face filled with confusion, and then she flowed into his
embrace, clutching him desperately as she sobbed out more than a century of
abuse into his chest.

   Tom held her as she cried, rubbing her back gently and nuzzling the top
of her head, until he saw that the sky outside the window was beginning to
lighten with the approaching dawn.  Easing her back, he stood and went to
his hall closet, fetching thick woolen blankets and a roll of duck tape. 
Returning to the living room, he quickly hung the blanket over the window,
taping the edges to ensure that no light could penetrate.

   Mia watched him work from the couch, tear streaks still evident on her
face.  "It would be better for you if you let the sun have me.", she said
quietly.

   He looked at her soberly for a moment before smiling gently, "No, Mia, I
really don't think it would."

   Tom returned to the couch and, with minor coaxing, had Mia lay her head
in his lap.  As he began to lightly rub her back and comb his fingers
through her hair, she asked, "Why don't you hate me?  I'm a monster."

   Tom bent and kissed her gently, first on the forehead and then the lips.
"You're not a monster, Mia.  You're a victim here as much as anyone.  I
promise to do my best to protect you and keep Arthur from ever hurting you
again." As he considered what he had said, Tom almost laughed at the notion
of actually being able to do anything against a creature that could punch
its fist through an armored man, but he knew that he would nevertheless do
his best to keep the promise.

   Mia twisted her head to seek confirmation of his words in his
expression. Tears began to well up again in her eyes.  She softly
whispered, "You do realize that I will eventually have to feed again?"
Before he could respond, the sun rose above the horizon.  Mia convulsed
once, her eyes squeezing shut, and then she went still.

   Tom sat there with her head in his lap for more than an hour, gently
combing his fingers through her hair as he wondered what the hell he was
going to do.  As he sat, he couldn't help but satisfy his curiosity
concerning her nature.  She had no pulse, but he was uncertain whether she
did even when she was active.  There was no sign of rigor mortis; her limbs
remained as soft and supple as those of a living person.  When he gently
pulled one of her eyelids open, he found her eye unglazed, though the pupil
was fixed and dilated.

   Finally, Tom stood and carried the remaining blanket and the tape to his
bedroom where he again sealed a window against light.  Returning to the
living room, he picked up Mia and carried her to his bed.  If someone would
happen to stop by during the day, it would be hard to explain an apparent
corpse on his couch.  For that matter, it would be hard to explain one in
his bed, but a casual visitor would be far less likely to see her there.

   Sitting on the edge of the bed, Tom pulled out his cell phone and called
off work for the day.  The head of the homicide department was surprisingly
understanding, despite the massive amount of priority paperwork awaiting
Tom's attention.  Tom then settled onto the bed with Mia, pulling the
comforter back over them both.  Although more than a little creeped out by
her apparent condition, in a short time he fell into exhausted slumber.  As
sleep claimed him, his arm reached out and enfolded the undead woman,
pulling her to him.

   Chapter 8

   Shortly before noon, Tom was awakened by the sound of heavy footfalls
moving through his apartment.  He reached to the night stand for his gun
before recalling with a curse that he had left it in the living room. 
Before he could think of any other course of action, his bedroom door
banged open and Mark walked in.

   "Rise and shine, lover boy.", Mark called out boisterously.  He didn't
seem especially surprised to see Mia occupying the bed.  "I used the keys
you gave me so I could water your plants while you were on vacation to get
in.  Hope you don't mind."

   "Mark?!"

   "Yep.  Mark.", Mark said in the tone of an adult speaking to an
especially slow child.  He squinted his eyes suspiciously, "You feeling
alright, take a knock on the head or something?"

   Tom sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his palms, "Aren't
you supposed to be in the hospital with a bunch of tubes sticking out of
you?"

   Mark looked surprised.  "Didn't your girl tell you?", he asked while
gesturing at Mia's supine form.  When Tom looked blank, Mark continued,
"Huh.  How about that?  Well, your pretty little piece of fluff there came
walking into my hospital room like she owned the place about a half hour
after you left and a few minutes after they pried Jenny, kicking and
screaming, from my side.  Scared the bejeezus out of me, I have to tell
you. Those little machines they had me hooked to were beeping and squealing
enough to wake the dead.  I was hollerin' for help and trying to push
myself back through the wall when she told me, 'I'm not here to hurt you. I
just wanted to make amends.'"

   Mark had moved to Mia's side of the bed and was checking her pulse,
eyes, and limb rigidity much as Tom had a few hours before.  "Huh. 
Certainly seems dead enough.  Anyway, I quieted down and she walked up to
the side of my bed and told me, 'Don't be alarmed, this will help.' Then
she started peeling back those big ass band-aids they had me covered with
and began licking my wounds.  Hope you don't mind, boss, but once I figured
out that she wasn't just finding out how I taste before eating me, I got a
bit of a chubby.  Everywhere she licked, those big bloody holes sealed up
as if by magic.  Even the stitches fell out.  Once she was done, she told
me she was sorry and just up and left.  Odd thing was no one seemed to
notice she was there.  A nurse walked in to shut down the alarms and check
my vitals right after your girl got there and paid absolutely no attention
to the pretty girl kneeling by my bed giving me a tongue bath."

   "Really knocked the doctors for a loop this morning, finding me all
healed up with nary a scar.  They checked me and rechecked me and then,
just to piss me off, checked me again.  Couldn't find a thing wrong.  They
wanted to keep me there for 'study', but I told 'em that if I was healthy I
needed to get back to work.  And here I am." Mark struck a pose with his
arms flung out to the sides, "Ta-da.  I do kinda miss that morphine drip,
though."

   Tom turned his gaze to Mia, "She didn't tell me.  She came here to ask
me to kill her, and never told me what she did for you."

   Mark pursed his lips thoughtfully.  "She asked you to kill her?  Wow,
that's a new record for you isn't it?  Usually your girls have to live with
you for a week or so before asking that." Mark dodged a hastily thrown
pillow with a laugh.  Then his face sobered, "So, what the fuck have you
gotten yourself into, boss?"

   Tom sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead on his palms.  "I'm
still trying to figure that out." He then briefly recapped what Mia had
told him the night before.

   Mark pondered the information he had just been given for a moment before
saying, "Well, we're a lot better off than we were yesterday at this time.
We know what we're facing.  We know sunlight and wooden stakes through the
heart can kill them.  And, we know that if your new girlfriend gets
anywhere near her old boyfriend again, she's probably going to get all
feisty on us.  How about the other classic cures from the movies for
vampire infestation: holy water, crosses, garlic and the like?"

   Tom shrugged his shoulders, "Didn't ask."

   "Well, when she wakes up, you might want to.  In the meantime, do you
have any plans floating around in that lump you call a head?"

   "When she was talking about the bond between her and the other, I got
the impression that she could feel where he was, or at least knew what
direction he was in.  If that's the case, I would bet the bond works the
other way, too.  If so, I bet he comes looking for her."

   "That's a lot of 'ifs', boss."

   "Yeah, I know, but its all I got at the moment."

   "So, you're thinking of setting a trap using her as bait?"



   "If she's willing.  If not, we'll have to think of something else."

   "Well, sounds good to me, I guess.  What do we do now?"

   "I was thinking that I would head to the library and read up on vampires
a bit and then head over to that archery store to stock up on some weapons
that might hurt him.  If you're up for it, I would like for you to talk to
some of our friends at the station and see if there's anyone who both
believes that we have a vampire in the city and is willing to help kill
him."

   Mark smiled amiably.  "No problem.  Meet back here at dusk?"

   "See you then."

   Mark started for the door but stopped and looked back, "She's right you
know, she will have to feed again.  How are you planning on dealing with
that?"

   Tom grimaced; he had been trying to put that thought out of his mind. 
"I really don't know.  Maybe animal blood will do?"

   Mark shrugged his shoulders, "Lets hope." He then trudged down the
hallway, whistling a tune.  Tom listened for a moment before chuckling.  He
recognized the song Mark was whistling.  It was quite dirty.



   To be continued?

   You decide.  If I get favorable responses in ASSD or by email, I'll
start writing the next chapter.  If not, I'll assume that I'm just not cut
out for my new hobby of writing erotic fiction.


   

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