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Message-ID: <58804asstr$1239149401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Dreadpirate Tom <dptom@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} Cont. story Blood Lust, chapters 14-18
Lines: 1441
Date: Tue, 07 Apr 2009 20:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


Story codes:  MF, vampires, viol, caution, slow
_________________________________________________________________

<1st attachment, "Blood Lust chapt 14-18.txt" begin>



Blood Lust, Chapters 14-18
By: Dread Pirate Tom

   Chapter 14

   Tom pushed his shaking, rattling car to the limit, trying to get to
Sam's Tavern as quickly as possible.  When he arrived at the scene, he
found that the area had already been cordoned off by a number of black and
whites, their red and blue lights reflecting off the nearby buildings,
alternately creating and destroying monstrous shadows.  Tom wryly noticed
that, despite the late hour, a small crowd of onlookers had already begun
to gather outside the yellow tape.

   As Tom exited the vehicle, the officer in charge of the scene rushed up
to him, his relief at being able to pass off responsibility to another
clearly evident.  The OIC quickly briefed Tom on the situation, "Detective,
glad you're here.  We have the block secured and eyes on every exit, but,
as per your orders, no one has gone inside.  We got the call from a man who
was out for a late night walk and saw blood seeping out from under the
door. We have him over in one of the cars if you need to speak with him. 
We tried calling the bar's number, but there was no answer.  I have a
sniper and spotter on standby, but haven't deployed them as the bar's
windows are too filthy to see through.  Every man I have available from
Zone Two is here, though we still have a few off covering for the, uh,
losses in Zone Four."

   Tom replied, "You've done a good job, officer.  Could you do me a favor
and secure and cordon off an additional block in each direction?  We really
don't want the press to be able to get any good pictures of the task force
we'll be using.  Also, as my task force arrives, please send them over to
me."

   The OIC nodded and replied, "You got it, Detective." He then moved off
to shout orders at his men.  The small crowd was quickly pushed back as a
new line was formed, much thinner than the original but much further away
from the bar.

   Mark and the other task force members arrived over the course of the
next ten minutes.  Tom quickly passed out sharpened dowels to Mark and
eight of the men while retaining one for himself.  He then divided the
nineteen task force members into two spear teams of four each, headed by
Mark and himself.  The other eleven, including his eight experienced
bowman, were divided up into two fire support teams of five each, with the
most experienced archer commanding both.

   Once they were prepared, Mark asked, "What if this isn't our boy's work
and there's a guy with a gun in there?  This is known as a rough place, you
know."

   Tom pondered this for a moment before answering, "If the blood was from
a bar fight, the bartender or another patron surely would have called us.
If someone, or a lot of someones, had been shot, there would have been
calls reporting gunfire; this isn't exactly a secluded area.  The parking
lot is nearly full but there have been no signs of activity.  That means
that there are a lot of people still in there and they're not making any
attempt to leave even though the bar was due to close for the night more
than an hour ago.  So either they're all dead or badly injured or they have
been taken hostage.  Were this a hostage situation, the hostage takers
would have answered the phone to give their demands when the OIC called.  I
don't think this could be anything but our boy."

   Tom called the OIC back over, the young officer looking askance at the
team's choice of weaponry.  Tom told him, "We're going to move in.  Could
you have one of your men bring over a hydraulic door ram and standby in
case the place is locked up?"

   After the OIC had nodded and moved off to make the appropriate
arrangements, Tom turned to his task force.  "Ok, here's the plan.  My
spear team will go in first by twos." Gesturing to one of his spear team
members at random, Tom continued, "You and I will be the first ones in. 
Mark's team will follow immediately.  Once the entrance is secured, the
fire support teams will move in to cover us.  We will then move as a unit
to secure the rest of the building.  Any questions?" There were none.

   The task force moved toward the entrance of the bar, the bowmen staying
around ten yards behind the spearmen.  As they drew near, Tom noticed that
there were a number of bloody footprints exiting the bar heading south
across the sidewalk, but they were only barely discernable outside the door
and quickly faded to nothing before they even reached the street.  Tom
pointed out the prints to the others in his team so that they could avoid
stepping on what might be critical evidence but cautioned them that the
prints did not mean that there weren't still more hostiles inside.

   Once at the door, Tom tried it and found it unlocked.  Waving off the
officer with the door ram, Tom threw the door open and he and his partner
jumped in, spears at ready.  A figure loomed in the darkness and Tom's
partner lunged, his spear sinking into the figure with a meaty thud.  Even
as this occurred, the other spear team members completed their entrance and
someone turned on the lights.

   Tom could hear one of his team being noisily sick behind him.  The
entire bar area was in shambles, shattered remnants of chairs, stools and
tables lay willy nilly throughout the room.  The entire floor was heavily
coated in a layer of thickly congealed blood and it appeared that more had
been sprayed, as if from a hose, over several places on the walls.  Four
bodies were scattered around the room while another had been nailed to the
bar with a variety of switchblades and buck knives, its head fixed in place
so that it seemed to stare toward the door.  This last body also now
sported a thick wooden dowel rod protruding from its chest.  With an
embarrassed shrug, Tom's entry partner pulled the makeshift spear free.

   As the fire support teams moved into position, Tom assessed his task
force; although all of them appeared pale and drawn, they also looked
resolute and had their weapons at ready.  With hand motions he directed
them through the bar until they had secured the tap room, storage room and
small, long unused kitchen.  Once the sweep was complete, there was a
collective exhalation as pent up tension flowed from them all.

   Tom directed the team to follow him back outside and, once there, he
called the OIC back over.  "The place is clear.  Call in CSI and tell the
coroner's office that we have five stiffs, one of which will take some work
to remove.  Also, run checks on the vehicles in the parking lot and get us
some names and addresses.  Finally, contact the bar's owner and find out
who was bartending and check that name against the list of vehicle owners
and stiffs."

   Once the OIC had again nodded and moved off, Tom turned to face his task
force.  "Ok.  I think that went pretty well.  Everyone responded quickly to
the call.  We worked as a unit and everyone kept their cool despite the
nature of the environment that we entered.  Anyone have any suggestions for
improvement?"

   One of the spearmen on Mark's team cleared his throat, "What about
having the, uh, spear teams carry two different lengths of spears, this one
and another twice as long?  That way when we're in tight places, like that
doorway, the second rank would be able to bring their spears to bear to
support the front rank."

   Tom nodded thoughtfully, "That's a good idea.  It would be too
cumbersome for everyone to carry both lengths all the time, but we could
have both sets available and choose accordingly based on the situation. 
I'll get on it."

   Another officer raised his hand and, at Tom's nod, said, "Do you think
we could get a SWAT designation, Detective?  These are certainly 'special'
weapons." The nervous laughter that broke out among the task force helped
ease the tension further.

   Any response that Tom might have made was drowned out by the blare of
approaching sirens; CSI and the coroner's vans had arrived.  Tom dismissed
the team and he and Mark moved to watch the newcomers at work.

   Within moments of entering, one of the deputy coroners rushed back out
and clung to the back of his van as he threw up into the street.  As Tom
averted his gaze, he noticed that the back of the van was windowless. 
Moving to peer into the driver's side window, he saw that there was a solid
partition separating the passenger compartment from the rear.  An idea
struck him which suddenly seemed so obvious he couldn't believe that he
hadn't thought of it before.

   Tom turned to the recovering coroner, "Hey, can I borrow your van for
about two hours?"

   Nonplussed, the man replied, "I don't know, Detective, I would have to
get that cleared from..."

   "I think I know a way to get the guy responsible for what happened in
the bar, but I need that van," Tom interrupted.

   "Keys are in it."

   Tom turned to Mark, "I'm going to need you to drive, Mark.  My place
first.  Go as fast as you can."

   Mark gave him a curious look, but only said, "You got it, boss."

   Tom crawled into the back of the van, ignoring the smell of death and
its unpleasant consequences.  He carefully examined the interior checking
for any signs of pinholes capable of admitting light.  So intent was he on
this exercise that he almost fell over when Mark quickly accelerated the
van away from the scene of Arthur's crime.

   Once they had arrived back at Tom's apartment building, Tom sprinted up
the steps to his apartment.  When he burst into the room, Mia was already
moving towards him, her face relaxing in relief upon seeing that he was
still alive and unharmed.

   Tom took her into his arms, but before she could speak, he said, "I have
an idea to locate Arthur.  Would you come with us?"

   Mia looked dubious, "Sunrise is..."

   Tom interrupted, "We've got that covered." His voice softened, "Trust
me, I would never let you come to harm."

   Mia gave him a warm smile and nodded, "Okay."

   Tom ran to his desk and rooted around in the drawers until he found a
handheld GPS and a compass left over from when he was an Eagle Scout.  He
then did a quick google search to find out the precise time that the sun
would rise.

   Mia effortlessly kept pace with him as he ran back to the van and
together they crawled into the back, Mia wrinkling her nose slightly at the
smell.

   Once inside, Tom said, "I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but where is Arthur
now?"

   Without hesitation, Mia pointed.  Tom checked his compass and found that
Arthur was almost due south.  After jotting down the exact bearing in a
notepad, Tom pounded on the partition and yelled for Mark to travel due
west as quickly as possible.  While the van bounced and jittered from the
high speed impacts with potholes, Tom dug around in the van's rear
compartments until he located the supply of body bags.

   As he spread one out on the floor, he looked apologetically at Mia, "I
really hate to ask you to do this, but it's the only way to make sure
you're safe."

   Mia smiled at him and climbed into the bag until only her head and
shoulders were sticking out.  "I think I know what you're up to, and this
is no problem at all."

   Hesitantly Mia asked, "How bad was it at the bar?"

   "Very bad," Tom replied.

   "Would you like me to take a look to see if I can figure out what he was
doing there?" Mia asked.

   Tom knew what she meant.  After giving her a brief nod, he concentrated
on recalling every last detail from the time his team had started to move
toward the bar until the time they left.

   Mia gasped in shock at the gory images that she caught from Tom's mind.
After he had finished mentally running through the events, Mia whispered,
"There is really only one explanation for the footprints leading from the
door and the bar being covered in more blood than the bodies that were
found could possibly hold: Arthur has made new fledglings.  It's impossible
to tell if they are of the sentient type or ferals, but you can be almost
certain that nearly every person who was in that bar who is unaccounted for
is now a vampire."

   "What do you mean by 'nearly every person'?" Tom asked.

   "Sentient fledglings need to feed shortly after they rise for the first
time, or there is a possibility that they will go mad from hunger and
revert to a feral state.  At least that is what Arthur taught me.  So, if
he made true fledglings, it is possible that he took some of those people
from the bar with him alive, with the intention of feeding them to the
newly risen."

   This grim possibility silenced both of them for the remainder of the
ride.

   As they traveled, Tom checked his watch with ever increasing frequency.
At two minutes before dawn, he pounded on the partition and told Mark to
stop.

   He turned to Mia expectantly and she pointed to the southeast.  Even as
Tom was writing down the bearing and checking the GPS to get a precise fix
on their current location, a troubled look came over Mia's face and she
said, "Something's not..."

   The sun peaked over the horizon and Mia fell lifeless to the floor.

   Chapter 15

   Arthur rose from the couch with a troubled look of his own.  He had
known that the police, and the rest of the city, would eventually accept
what it was that they faced; that was, after all, the entire point of this
exercise.  He had not, however, expected that this would occur quite so
quickly.  In his experience, mortals were extremely reluctant to
acknowledge the existence of vampires in their midst.

   Arthur recalled that he had one more errand to run before his rapidly
approaching dormancy, an errand that he'd had to postpone while he had the
ferals in tow and Alicia over his shoulder.  Moving to the front door, he
extended his senses to make certain there were no witnesses and slipped
outside.

   Arthur gazed along the row of neat, well maintained homes.  Any of the
occupants would do for what he had in mind, but, in the common vernacular
of this age, you don't shit where you eat.  Another disappearance could
well focus attention on this place and he was already pressing his luck. 
It had been less than three full nights since he had so rudely intruded on
the Bollingers and already neighbors were coming around, wondering why
Jimmy's wife had missed the weekly meeting of her card club or why she
wasn't returning calls.  That was the problem with fairly affluent areas,
Arthur decided, too much of a sense of community.

   He began to run to the east, passing like a fleeting shadow among the
darkened homes.  He had hated being forced to hold back while guiding the
ferals to this place; the sluggish pace that they could maintain had made
him feel vulnerable and weak.  To make up for it, he pushed himself to his
limit now, quickly passing through the outskirts of Pleasant Hills and
skirting swiftly around the edge of a large mall.

   As he ran, Arthur mulled over the events of the evening.  It suddenly
occurred to him that while the police had been armed with wooden weapons,
weapons that could hurt him, they had not been encumbered by the usual
impotent trappings of self-styled vampire hunters.  There had been no
crosses, no sun lamps, no fool with a squirt gun filled with holy water. 
As he considered this, Arthur realized something else: after resonating
with utterly disgusting emotions for hours, Mia's bond had suddenly flashed
with fear, and not for herself, shortly before the police had made their
entrance.  That fear had remained until a short time after the dangerously
armed force had left the bar, at which point the bond had flooded with
feelings of relief.

   While Arthur had learned centuries before that correlation is not the
same as causation, the possibilities raised by this particular correlation
were far too dangerous to ignore.  The bond had made it obvious that Mia
had taken up with a mortal lover, but it had not occurred to Arthur that
her lover might not only be with the police, but a part of the team hunting
him.  This changed everything.  With Mia's assistance, the police could
locate his lair; perhaps they already had.  He would need to abandon the
Bollinger home as soon as possible.  It is fortunate, he thought, that he
had prepared his sheet anchor within a week of his arrival in the city,
purchasing several homes in disparate parts of the city and renting a
number of storage units and basement apartments.  He did not believe that
Mia was aware of any of them.

   He would also need to alter his other plans dramatically.  First and
foremost, Mia would need to be destroyed sooner rather than later.  The
only problem being that, if she were working with the police, there would
likely be a trap waiting when he moved to eliminate her.  Reviewing the
knowledge that Kei had given him, Arthur realized that there was a single
elegant solution to all of his problems.  He hated risking his ferals so
soon, but there were always more to be had.  He was also reluctant to take
a chance of granting Jimmy's wish before the fledgling had even begun to
suffer, but perhaps Alicia would prove as entertaining.  The best part of
his nascent plan, he decided, was that it didn't matter whether his new
strategy was completely successful.  Even if it failed entirely, he would
survive to vanish into the night.  Then, after his enemies had grown
complacent in their arrogance over the supposed victory, he would reappear
from the shadows to spur their terror to even greater heights.  On the
other hand, if he were victorious, his only real opposition would be
destroyed and fear would rule the city within days.

   Thus decided, Arthur returned his thoughts to the task at hand.  As he
rounded the county airport, his extended senses found the perfect target of
opportunity: a lone man was standing,
bored and inattentive, at a nearby bus stop.  Moving swiftly and

silently, Arthur was upon the man in an instant, striking him brutally in
the temple before the man had even registered Arthur's presence.  Catching
the unconscious man before he could hit the ground, Arthur settled the limp
form across his shoulders and turned to make the return journey. 
Fledglings need to feed soon after they rise for the first time and a good
Master always provides for his flock.

   By the time Arthur made it back to his temporary lair, the sky was
already beginning to lighten with the coming dawn.  He would need to act
quickly if he were going to set his revised plan in motion.  After ensuring
that there were again no witnesses, Arthur entered the home and quickly
trussed and gagged his captive in what had been Jimmy's home office. 
Rushing to the basement, he found James leaning against a stack of boxes,
tears still running down his face.

   "Oh, stop your bawling," Arthur commanded irritably.  While existing
tears continued to trickle down James' face, no new ones appeared in his
eyes.

   Arthur leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of James' head
before again making use of Lei's gift.  When he had finished his chant,
Arthur staggered backwards, shaken by the sudden aching void within him. 
That which had been a part of him for well over a century was irrevocably
gone, and he felt unexpected sorrow at the loss.  Before he could examine
this emotion, the sun rose and with it came oblivion.



   Chapter 16

   After Tom and Mark had returned Mia to Tom's apartment, Mark running
interference to insure that no one saw Tom carrying a full body bag into
his home, they drove to the station to develop their new information.

   Fortified with the station's vile coffee, they laid out a map and
protractor on Tom's desk.  After a few minutes of bickering over the proper
method to do so, they placed their baseline coordinates and used the
compass bearings from Tom's notebook to draw lines from each coordinate to
the edge of the map.  Both men stared at the point at which the lines
intersected.

   Tom sighed in frustration as he leaned back from the table, "That can't
be right.  Why would he be smack dab in the middle of nowhere thirty miles
south of the city?  We must have fucked this up somehow."

   They quickly repeated the work with identical results.

   "Well, shit," Tom said, "we're going to need another bearing.  This
really can't be right."

   Mark grunted in agreement before saying, "Still, it can't hurt to check
it out.  I'll call the location over to the chief of police of the town of
Elizabeth and ask him if he can send someone to take a look."

   "Okay, Mark.  While you're doing that, I'm going to go prepare our
ambush at the Old County Jail.  I don't know that it'll be necessary
anymore, but..."

   "Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it," Mark
finished for him, before adding, "I'll swing by maintenance and grab some
chains, too."

   "Sounds good.  See you later."

   The Old County Jail, which had been diverted from its original purpose
years before and turned into a warren of courtrooms and administrative
offices, was a massive granite fortress that sat within sight of the
Monongahela River.  Tom had chosen this place as the site of the ambush as
most of the building was surrounded by a thick stone wall and, even where
it was not, the first floor windows were far to narrow to admit a man.  The
building only had two first floor entrances, each capable of being sealed
by gates of strong steel bars.  One of those entrances breached the thick
stone walls of the building directly below an enclosed arched stone bridge
with high, narrow windows that connected the building to the courthouse
proper across the street.  Passing through this doorway, Tom entered a
narrow hallway that ran roughly fifty feet before opening up into a large
room that had once been used to process incoming prisoners.  Standing in
the middle of the high ceilinged room, Tom looked it over carefully before
deciding that it was perfect.

   Making the preparations took a good bit longer than Tom had hoped; it
took several calls from the chief before the frantic building administrator
allowed Tom to commandeer the maintenance personnel and use them to clear
the room of its clutter of desks, computers and other office furniture.  It
had then taken Mark's arrival and expert bullying before the administrator
permitted Tom to have a huge wooden chair, specially commissioned by an
especially corpulent former judge, carried to the room and bolted securely
to the floor adjacent to the wall opposite the entrance hallway.

   Once the chair was in place, Tom called the members of his task force
and had them assemble in the large room.  The group then spent several more
hours perfecting the tactics they would use should the ambush take place.

   Tom closed the training by briefly addressing the group, "I know it's
not easy accepting the nature of our adversary.  His very existence goes
against everything we thought we knew about this world and our place in it.
But he does exist and, for so long as he continues to do so, he poses a
threat to every last living man, woman and child.  We have each taken an
oath to protect those people and, by your presence here, I know you take
that oath seriously.  This is not going to be an easy fight; some of us
probably aren't going to make it.  But I have every confidence that in the
end, thanks to your courage, dedication and strength, you will be able to
look into a mirror and know that you prevented thousands of murders in the
future and avenged thousands more from the past.  Dismissed."

   After the sober faced men and women had filed out of the room to return
to their regular duties, Mark walked up to Tom with a grin, "Real
inspirational, boss.  Should you manage to outlive me, please turn down any
requests to speak at my funeral; my family will be traumatized enough by
the event without you adding to it with shitty rhetoric."

   With a shrug of his shoulders, Tom replied lightly, "Bah.  Your mom
never complains about my oral skills."

   Mark shook his head in mock sorrow, "Ha.  Funny."

   Leaving the jail, Tom and Mark drove to the strip district and purchased
several garlic presses, several mesh bags and every last whole clove of
garlic that they could lay their hands on.  A half hour later, they were
sitting by Tom's desk crushing garlic cloves into a bucket when an officer
from CSI approached.

   "I have the preliminary results of the investigation of last night's
incident, Detective," said the officer as he approached Tom's desk with a
thick folder.

   Tom replied, "Can you give us a quick summary?"

   "Sure.  From the amount of blood present at the scene and the degree to
which the bodies that were recovered were drained, we estimate that between
twelve and twenty people were completely bled out.  We're running blood
tests now to see if we can get a more accurate count.  Running the plates
of the cars in the parking lot produced the names of fifteen men, including
those of all five of the bodies recovered.  We have a shit load of
fingerprints, but, given the public nature of the place, I doubt that will
lead anywhere.  We also found out that the bartender on duty was one Alicia
George of East Liberty.  We contacted her husband, but he said that they
have been separated for months and he hasn't seen her in weeks.  We also
took a K9 tracking unit down to the scene to see if the dog could follow
the scent of those tracks that led from the bar.  The dog took one whiff
and tucked its tail between its legs."

   The officer shifted around nervously for a moment before adding, "One of
the bodies we brought back has a, uh, unique dental abnormality consistent
with what you and the sergeant here have been telling us for the past few
days.  So, it's really true then?  There are real honest-to-God vampires in
the city?"

   Tom and Mark both answered with a nod.

   After the CSI officer had left, Tom turned to the mountain of paperwork
that still needed to be completed regarding the failed raid.  Mark chuckled
slightly at Tom's sigh of despair and returned to crushing garlic.  They
had only been at these tasks for a few minutes when another officer
approached.

   This officer gestured slightly at Tom and said, "Chief wants to see you,
Detective."

   Chief Dennis Jacobs was a huge figure of a man.  Although not quite as
tall as Tom, he was more than half again as wide.  Despite being in his
late fifties, only a little of that girth was fat.  He had a thick
square-jawed head topped with low cropped hair that was a solid iron grey
in color.  All in all he had the stereotypical look of the ideal policeman:
incorruptible, solid, dependable and tough.

   When Tom entered his office, the Chief looked up from the report he was
reading, "Close the door and have a seat, Tom." After Tom had complied, the
Chief continued, "Look Tom, I understand that murders aren't solved in a
day, a week, or, sometimes, even a year.  But, given the nature of our
killer, this one needs to be resolved a lot more quickly than any other. 
I've been getting nightmares from the thought of the panic that would erupt
in this city if the people knew that there was a real fucking vampire in
their midst.  So, let me hear the plan that will get rid of my nightmares
and let me get back to dreaming of nothing but rainbows and tits."

   Tom quickly outlined his plans, both the one involving using Mia to
triangulate Arthur's position and the one using her as bait for an ambush.

   As Tom finished up, the Chief nodded slowly, "Not bad.  Better than I
had hoped.  But it does bring to mind another question: Why in the hell do
you have one of those monsters living in your apartment?"

   "Mia's not a monster, Chief.  She's..." Tom began.

   "Don't give that bullshit, Tom," the Chief interrupted.  "I've read the
files.  She is implicated, strongly implicated, in at least two murders
and, given what she is, I have little doubt that she's actually committed
hundreds if not thousands more."

   "And what do you suggest we do about that, Chief?" Tom replied angrily.
"Even if she's not human now, and I would argue that she is in all the ways
that matter most, she was human at one time.  Does that give her a right to
a trial?  If so, do murder laws apply when the killing was performed to
obtain necessary sustenance?  Assuming that she does go to trial and is
found guilty, what do we do then?  Throw her in jail?  Even if we could
make modifications to a cell that would hold her in the long term, how do
you think the other prisoners will react when they find out what she is? 
How do you think the press will react when they find out that we have a
vampire in captivity?  Or perhaps you were thinking of capital punishment?
I doubt that the electric chair or the gas chamber would have much of an
effect on her and, last I checked, pounding a stake through a prisoner's
heart isn't a legally accepted means of carrying out the death penalty in
this state.

   "Not to mention the fact that, without her help, we would have no hope -
none - of putting an end to the truly dangerous monster that killed maybe
twenty people just last night and killed more than thirty of our own the
night before that.  Mark and I are working on a way to supply Mia with
animals to feed on and she's perfectly willing to give our idea a shot.  If
it works out, I know her well enough to be able to guarantee that she will
no longer be a danger to anyone.

   "I guess it all boils down to one thing.  Tell me, Denny: Could you live
with yourself if you repaid the person who was instrumental in saving our
city, perhaps even our country, from the biggest threat it has ever faced
with eternal imprisonment or summary execution?"

   The Chief cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Wouldn't the arguments you just
made concerning the right to a trial and the dubious application of the law
also apply to our killer?"

   Tom replied, "Probably, but, from all Mia has told me, I don't think any
of those issues will arise with him.  Mainly because there's no way we're
going to manage to take him alive, err undead.  Whatever.  You know what I
mean."

   The Chief sat silently for a long moment before saying, "Tom, first let
me say that I think that pretty much everything you just said is a load of
shit.  These are monsters who feed on people.  The logical and responsible
solution isn't a trial or any of that kind of happy horse shit, but
immediate eradication.  But, just for the sake of argument, what do you
propose that we do with Mia?"

   Tom replied, "I may be biased, but I think we should let her go. 
Justify it as a pardon in exchange for services rendered."

   Again the Chief was silent for a long time.  Finally, he nodded his head
slowly and, with a sigh, said, "We'll do it your way on two conditions. 
First, I want proof that she can and will live on animals.  Second, I want
the other one, this Arthur or whatever his name is, destroyed without
question.  I'm sorry, Tom, but if the first of those conditions isn't met,
I will have to order her destruction as well."

   Tom nodded grimly, "Understood, Chief."



   Chapter 17 (Wherein, for no good reason whatsoever, there is a shift to
present tense)



   Alicia awakes to find herself lying naked on a cement floor.  For a
moment, she struggles to recall what had happened the previous night but
fails; finally deciding that someone must have slipped her one hell of a
mickey.  She rises smoothly to her knees and then stands, marveling at the
fact that, despite her odd sleeping arrangements, all of the aches and
pains that she has accumulated over her forty years do not trouble her in
the slightest.

   Peering about curiously, she determines that she is in a large basement
that is shaped like a "U" with the center being partially taken up by a
small bathroom.  Alicia can hear movement in the other arm of the "U", but
decides that her full bladder has a higher priority than meeting whoever it
was that brought her here.

   Even as she walks towards the bathroom door, she wonders at her lack of
fear.  As she considers this, she realizes that there are a number of
things that are glaringly wrong with the current situation, even beyond the
obvious fact that she is naked in an unknown basement: What is that knot of
emotion, of cold, hard resolve, that she can feel in her mind but which
doesn't seem to truly be a part of her?; What is that odd coppery taste in
her mouth that makes part of her want to be violently ill but makes
another, larger, part of her hunger?; and, Why does she feel no chill even
though she can tell that the cement floor is freezing cold?

   As she walks past the bathroom mirror, she catches a sight in her
peripheral vision that makes her stop and do a double take.  With eyes
widening in confusion and wonder, she leans closer to the mirror.  The face
looking back at her is her's, but as it was twenty years before.  In
disbelief, she brings her hands to her face; her skin, while pale and
rather cool to the touch, is soft, smooth and completely unmarred by any
blemish, wrinkle or line.  Stepping back slightly, she sees that her
breasts stand high and firm, with no sign of the sag that had been
developing over the past fifteen years.  She traces a finger down across
her stomach and is astonished to find that the stretch marks that had been
present since she was fourteen are completely gone, leaving only smooth,
taut skin.

   Grinning in delight, she spins, stands on her tiptoes and peers over her
shoulder.  Her ass is round and tight with no trace of the cellulite
dimples that she knows were present just the day before.  Her survey of the
changes that had occurred to her body, seemingly by magic, is interrupted
by her bladder again making its urgent need known to her.  As she sits on
the toilet, she can feel a change in that knot of emotion in the corner of
her mind; a sense of growing nearness.

   The cold resolve of that knot becomes tinged with amusement and she
hears a voice speak calmly from the doorway, "That is the last time that
you will ever have to do that, Alicia."

   The sound of that voice causes the memories of the previous night to
resurface and crash around her in waves of pain and fear and humiliation.
She begins to cower away from the dark figure in the doorway but then she
forces herself to straighten and, pushing her fear aside, asks quietly,
"Did you do this to me?"

   "Yes," the voice answers simply.

   Alicia is quiet for a moment, the memories of the pain that this man had
forced her to endure warring with the joy she feels over the changes that
he had wrought in her body.  Finally, she replies quietly, "Thank you."

   She feels the amusement grow in that knot of emotion inside her mind. 
With a slightly mocking laugh, the man answers, "You are welcome, Alicia. I
know you must be hungry.  I will take my leave of you so that you may clean
yourself.  When you are ready to eat, you will know how to find me."

   As the man turns to leave, Alicia calls out, "Wait!  Who are you?"

   Turning slightly back toward her, the man answers, "My name is Arthur.
You may call me, 'Master.'"

   A protest begins to rise to her lips but dies before it is even half
formed.  With a nod she says, "Yes, Master."

   As her Master again turns to leave, Alicia calls out again, "Master?"

   "Yes, Alicia?"

   Alicia is silent for a moment, unable to put words to the question to
which she must know the answer.  At last she fumbles out, "What are you,
Master?"

   The amusement in the knot of emotions grows even further as the man
laughs at her.  "When you are finished with what you are doing, return to
the mirror and bare your teeth.  I believe that will answer the question of
what I am, of what we are."

   Confused, Alicia remains silent as she feels a growing sense of distance
in the knot of emotions.  She suddenly realizes that, although her Master
is out of her sight, she could point directly to him using that knot of
emotions; the knot that could only be her Master.

   When her bladder is finally empty, Alicia stands and moves again to face
the mirror.  Timidly, she leans forward and pulls her lips back, but can
see no difference in her teeth from the way they were before.  Still
looking into the mirror she opens her mouth.  When it is fully open, her
canines slide downwards, extending into three inch long fangs.  She falls
backwards with a cry, suddenly recalling fangs, nearly identical to the
ones in her mouth, being revealed by a smile, sinking into her breast, and
biting into her throat.

   For a long while, Alicia sits huddled on the floor, her knees clasped
tightly to her chest, her mind in turmoil.  "There are no such things as
vampires; they do not, they can not, exist!" she whispers to herself over
and over again.  But the evidence is undeniable.  She looks down her body
while considering the benefits of what she has become.  Finally, her mind
again calm, Alicia rises smoothly to her feet and turns toward the shower.
Her Master wants her clean.

   Fifteen minutes later, Alicia, still nude and now dripping from her
ablutions, ventures back out into the basement proper.  Walking around the
bottom of the "U" she finds the stairs leading up into the house, noting
that whatever had made the noises that she had heard earlier is now gone.

   Emerging from the basement, Alicia, following the knot in her mind,
turns right into a hallway.  After just a few steps, she finds her Master
talking with two heavily armed men in a well appointed living room.  She
not only can see the men's eyes widen as they take in the sight of her but
can hear their hearts begin to beat faster in their chests.  She can even
smell their lust.  Her nipples tingle and thicken under the weight of their
approving gaze.

   Her Master glances at her with an eyebrow raised in amusement.  "Come,
child," he tells her, "It is time for you to feed."

   As she follows her Master across the room, she adds an extra swing to
her hips, laughing quietly as she hears the men's hearts beat even faster.
Her Master leads her down another hallway and through a door.  Inside the
room, a man kneels on his knees.  His hands and feet are tied; his mouth
gagged.  He stares up at Alicia and her Master with eyes that are wide and
fearful and Alicia can hear his breath quicken and become shallow as his
heart begins to race.

   The room is filled with the most deliciously wonderful aroma that Alicia
has ever experienced.  Eyes closed in sensory euphoria, she weaves her head
from side to side trying to home in on the source of the incredible smell.
Following the strongest concentrations of the scent, Alicia moves slowly
into the room.  She leans forward and realizes that the scent is stronger
closer to the floor.  She drops to her hands and knees and continues to
slowly crawl forward until her hands encounter an obstacle.  She opens her
eyes and sees that it is the bound man.  His eyes are even wider now,
nearly bugging out of his head, and, even through the gag, she can hear his
muffled screams.

   She suddenly knows that the man is the source of the heavenly aroma. 
Effortlessly, she throws him onto his back, and drops her head to his
stomach.  Inhaling deeply she slides the side of her face up the man's
stomach and chest; her nipples becoming painfully erect as they rub on the
rough fabric of his shirt.  Soon she is straddling him, her head even with
his throat.  Breathing heavily, she nuzzles her nose into the side of his
neck while twining her arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.  She
can tell from the man's frantic struggles that their combined weight is
hurting the hands which are trapped behind his back, but she doesn't care.

   From behind her, Alicia hears her Master whisper, "You are smelling his
fear, Alicia."

   The scent is even stronger along the prisoner's throat and the line of
his jaw.  Pulling herself even more closely against him, she extends her
tongue and runs it over the taut muscles of his neck.  The taste of his
sweat brings a moan from her lips; it is everything the scent had promised.
Alicia rears forward so she can lick at his face and ears.  As she does so,
her clit rubs against his lower stomach, sending an almost electrical jolt
through her body.  She can feel her cunt moistening.  Even as she continues
to run her tongue up and down the skin of his face, she begins to hump her
hips slowly and sensuously into his stomach.

   Alicia slides the left side of her face up along the right side of his,
rubs her chin over the crown of his head and then completes the circle by
moving the right side of her face down along his left until her mouth is
again at this throat.  There she traces her tongue over his Adam's apple,
which bobs and quivers at her touch.  Her tongue slides to the side until
she can feel his rapid pulse.  As she lightly kisses a trail up and down
the artery, she feels a ravenous hunger rising within her and her canines
extend and lock into place.  Yielding to instinct, she bites into his
defenseless throat and, as his hot, thick blood jets into her mouth, her
body explodes in orgasm.

   His scent shifts slightly and she somehow knows that he is climaxing as
well.  Ripping her mouth from his throat, she lifts her chest off of his
and tears away his gag, heedless of the blood that sprays briefly over her
chin and breasts before his wounds miraculously seal.  She lunges forward
and presses her lips to his, kissing him deeply and tenderly; her
excitement only heightened when he screams his terror into her mouth.

   Pulling her lips from his, she stares into his horror struck eyes for a
long moment before she again goes for his throat, this time sucking
hungrily until his body goes limp and lifeless beneath her.

   As Arthur watches his newest fledgling feed, he idly wonders how this
one will respond to the act.  Mia and her predecessors had withdrawn into
themselves for days, overwhelmed by the horror and guilt of killing a human
being for food.  James had, of course, curled into a weeping, sniveling
ball but, in all fairness, his first meal had been his loving wife.

   Alicia lifts herself from the lifeless form of the captive and turns to
stare at Arthur with wild eyes; the emotions feeding back to him through
the bond are far too chaotic to read.  "Is it always like this?" she
whispers.

   Arthur replies, "Yes, feeding and sexual response are closely connected,
for both us and our food."

   Arthur sighs with disappointment as she charges at him; he'd had high
hopes for this one.  He could stop her with a single command, of course,
but, if she were going to reject the gift to the point of violence, it
would probably be best for her to die now.  The last thing he needs at the
moment is another rebellious fledgling.  So, he stands and watches calmly
as she rapidly closes the gap between them, waiting for her to drop
lifelessly to the floor next to her prey at the culmination of her attack.

   But she doesn't die.  Arthur is too surprised to react as she hurls him
to the floor and squats over him.  He feels her fumble with his belt and
then with his zipper before reaching into his pants to fish out his cock;
stroking it rapidly until it stands erect.  Arthur stares up at her in
shock as she mounts him, taking him fully inside her dripping wet cunt in
one violent plunge.  She begins to raise and lower herself on him with
increasing rapidity until her hips are a blur of sensuous motion.  The room
is filled with the susurrus of the soft skin of her thighs rubbing against
the silk of his suit and the staccato rhythm of the cheeks of her ass
slapping violently into his upper thighs.

   After riding Arthur hard for several minutes, Alicia abruptly drops her
chest to his and presses her lips hard against his.  Then, just as
suddenly, she breaks the kiss and rears upwards, her canines extending to
their fullest length.  Pain lances through Arthur as Alicia's fangs sink
into his shoulder, her tongue lapping at the fluids that ooze from the
wound.  As Arthur feels himself begin to climax in response to her bite, he
twists his head and sinks his own fangs into the soft skin of her neck. 
Their bodies twitch and spasm and moans explode loudly and continuously
from their throats as the orgasmic power of the vampire's bite feeds back
on itself in a closed loop.

   After an eternal moment, they disengage their fangs almost
simultaneously; the sensation has simply become too great.  For several
more minutes, they lie limp and panting on the floor, until the moment is
finally broken when Alicia nips lightly at Arthur's ear and whispers,
"Thank you," over and over again.  Then, without prompting, she rotates her
body around so that she can take his softening member into her mouth and
clean it of their combined fluids.

   Arthur rises shakily to his feet and pulls Alicia up to stand before
him. While quickly returning his clothing to order, he tells her, "I fear
this place has been compromised.  You will find a dress in the room where I
was speaking with the two men.  Put it on and they will take you to a safe
house.  I will meet you there later tonight."

   Alicia responds as her bond requires, "Yes, Master."

   Arthur exits the house into the garage where he meets up with his
waiting minions.  As the garage door opens, Arthur's expanded senses detect
a police officer watching the house intently from an unmarked car.  Even as
the policeman lifts the mic of his radio to his lips, Arthur reaches out
with his will and burns away the man's memory of the preceding week.  The
policeman looks around in dazed confusion, barely noticing Arthur strolling
casually toward him with a friendly smile on his face.

   When Arthur reaches the unmarked car, he punches forward as his
fingernails lengthen and grow sharp.  His fist passes through the hardened
windshield as easily as his claws pass through the skin, cartilage and
muscle of the policeman's throat.

   Pulling his hand free, Arthur calls his minions to him and leads them
out into the night.



   Chapter 18



   Mia wakes to find Tom lying stretched out on the bed next to her, a
gentle smile appearing on his face as he watches her eyes open.  She rolls
over into his embrace, bringing her lips to his.

   As their lips separate, he smiles again and whispers, "Good morning."

   Mia returns his smile and, pointing slightly southwest with a wince of
pain, says, "Before you ask, Arthur's that way.  "

   With an apologetic shrug, Tom grabs his compass from the night stand and
quickly writes down the bearing.  He then leans in for another kiss before
saying, "Mia, I don't have much time.  We're going for Arthur tonight and I
need to get this information to the station so we can get a warrant. 
Mark's out in the living room and, although he doesn't know it yet, he's
going to stay here with you.  If you feel Arthur move at all, let Mark
know."

   Mia looks at Tom, aghast, "You're going after Arthur at night?!"

   Tom nods grimly, "Yes.  The Chief wants this situation resolved and,
even if he didn't, we can't in good conscience give Arthur the chance at
another killing spree like he had last night."

   Tom's eyes focus on a distant point for a moment before returning to
Mia's.  With a nervous smile he tells her, "I know we haven't known each
other for very long, especially from your perspective, but before I go I
want you to know that I love you."

   A smile spreading across her face, Mia pulls Tom back into her embrace
and kisses him softly before replying, "I love you, too.  Be careful and
come back to me." She chews on her lip for a moment before adding, "Tom, I
don't know what use it will be, but there's something else you should know.
I've told you before that I can feel some of Arthur's emotional state
through the bond.  For as long as I've known him, the primary feeling I get
from him is cold purpose.  Other emotions may flicker fleetingly across the
surface, but the core has always been the same.  This morning just before
dawn that core turned into what I can only describe as suicidal depression.
Tonight some of the resolve is back, as well as some excitement, but the
primary feeling I get is still depression."

   Tom purses his lips in thought, "What do you think it means?"

   Mia shrugs helplessly, "He came here looking for something.  Maybe he
found it and it wasn't all that he expected.  I really don't know, though."

   "Well, thanks for the info, it may very well help us tonight during the
fight." Tom twists around and picks up a bulky package from alongside the
bed before continuing, "In the event that we do end up having to use the
trap, I brought this for you."

   Mia opens the bag and pulls out a police issue hooded rain slicker, long
kitchen gloves, plastic rain pants and rubber boots.  She looks over at Tom
with an eyebrow cocked questioningly.

   Tom laughs at her expression before explaining, "They'll keep you from
getting a rash.  I'm sorry, Mia, but I need to get going.  Shall we go tell
Mark the bad news?"

   Laughing, they walk hand in hand out to the living room.

   The passage of an hour finds Tom pacing restlessly back and forth in
front of the SWAT van that has been assigned to his team.  The new bearing
he had gotten from Mia had crossed one of the lines from that morning over
top of a house in Pleasant Hills belonging to Mr.  and Mrs.  James
Bollinger.  He had immediately dispatched an officer in an unmarked car to
observe the place, but getting a warrant was proving to be far more
difficult than he had hoped.  Even with the Chief calling in favors, not
many magistrates were willing to accept the minimal information that they
had been able to put on the affidavit of probable cause.  After all, they
could hardly state that they had targeted the residence because a fledgling
vampire had pointed in the direction of her Master.  The Chief had also
forbidden Tom from assembling his team at the suspect residence until the
warrant was in hand as the Chief didn't want to give Arthur any advance
warning of the strike.

   As Tom turns to make yet another pass in front of the van, the call
comes from the Chief; they have their warrant.  Within seconds the team is
loaded and the van is underway.  Twenty minutes later they pull to a stop
in front of the Bollinger residence and the team quickly offloads and
assembles in the yard.

   Tom peers up and down the street looking for his observer.  Finally
picking out the unmarked car he runs towards it only to stop in horror at
the sight of the broken glass and the officer's torn throat.  Stepping
slowly up to the car while yelling for his radioman to call the incident
in, Tom examines the body more closely.  Blood is still oozing from the
wound and has not yet begun to coagulate; the officer had died only moments
before.

   Tom turns and gives the order to breach.  They clear the house quickly,
finding only two dead bodies.  One, presumably Mrs.  Bollinger, was found,
bloodless and with a broken neck, crammed inside a freezer in the basement.
The other, an unknown male, was found in what looked to be an office.  With
the assistance of one of his men, Tom broke the male's neck as well.

   Tom has his radioman call for the CSI unit while the rest of the team
begins a more thorough search of the premises.  He is moving to join them
when his cell phone rings.

   The moment Tom answers, Mark's voice bursts from the receiver, "Tom! 
Arthur is on the move..."

   Tom replies, "Yeah, we kinda figured that out.  The house..."

   Mark interrupts, "Mia says that he's coming right for us!"

   "Shit!  Get Mia to the Old Jail.  We'll meet you there."

   "Already on the way, boss.  We decided to wait to call you until Mia
could make certain that Arthur was after her, rather than just moving
towards us by coincidence, by finding out if he would change direction to
track our movement."

   Tom quickly gets his task force back into the van and, with the lights
flashing and the siren blaring, they race back towards the downtown area.
Under Tom's encouragement, the driver pushes the van to such dangerous
speeds that the van tilts up slightly to ride on two tires with each turn.
While in transit, Tom calls the Chief to have him evacuate the jail and the
area around it for several blocks.

   Ten minutes later, the van streaks by the patrol cars and bright yellow
road barricades to come to a squealing stop a short distance from the
chosen entrance to the Old Jail.  Weapons in hand, Tom's task force deploys
into the building at a fast jog.  Mia, encased in the rain gear Tom had
given her, is already secured to the heavy chair; her arms and legs clamped
into leg irons and her entire body nearly mummified by thick chains.  As he
and his team enter the large room, Tom only has time to spare Mia one quick
sympathetic glance before Mark comes bursting out from a door that leads to
the jail's basement.

   "Everything's all set, boss," Mark yells as he runs towards the other
members of the team.  While en route, he pauses for a moment to pull the
fire alarm.  Immediately water reeking of garlic bursts from the sprinkler
system..

   Before the first drop of water can hit the floor, Mia cries out, "He's
here!"

   Tom curses under his breath; he had sent two of his archers to the
covered bridge that connected the jail with the original courthouse to cut
off any possible escape, but there was no hope of them reaching their
destination for at least a few more minutes.

   Mark's spear team quickly forms a line across the width of the hallway
with Tom's team, equipped with longer spears, falling in behind them.  The
fire support teams bunch together several yards further back.

   A man in an expensive suit followed closely by a number of men in
tattered and bloody leather appear at the entrance to the building.  With
impossible speed they rapidly close in on the police line.  A few of the
intruders sprout arrows from chests, arms and legs.  Only one falls. 
Halfway down the passage, the man in the suit slows and allows his
followers to overtake and pass him.  All of the undead have developed large
seeping sores and blisters wherever the water has touched them, but the
only one who even appears to notice is the one that Tom takes to be Arthur
and his response is limited to a pained and angry glance at the sprinklers.

   The intruders hit the line of blue with a tremendous crash.  Tom thrusts
his spear forward at the chest of a huge biker who has eyes that are devoid
of anything resembling sanity.  In his peripheral vision he sees another of
the bikers, impaled through the shoulder, push itself forward with no
regard for the spear that drives ever deeper into its flesh until it can
reach the officer holding the dowel.  The officer falls backwards, his face
and chest in ruins.

   The line begins to buckle.  As Tom pulls his spear from the chest of his
target, he observes Mark fly through the air, his arms windmilling.  Mark
impacts the opposite wall with a meaty thud and falls limply to the floor.
Then Tom is forced to return his attention to the battle as another vampire
in tattered biker regalia tears the throat from one of Tom's men and turns
toward Tom.

   The line collapses.  As the newest biker comes at Tom with an
animalistic growl, Tom hears one of his men scream in agony as two of the
ferals, one at the man's shoulders and the other at his feet, lift him from
the floor and struggle for control over their prey.  With a crackling of
bone and the wet sound of tearing skin and muscle, the man's legs are
pulled from his body.  Tom drives his improvised spear into the chest of
his latest attacker, but slips on the blood coating the floor and falls to
his knees.  Before he can regain his feet, the vampire in the suit twists
sinuously by him penetrating to the center of the room before coming to a
halt directly in front of Mia.

   Tom hears Mia cry out, "Arthur, don't do this!"

   The target of her plea ignores it and shouts in return, "Mia, I command
you to kill every mortal you can find until you are slain or the sun rises.
You are not to take shelter from the sun."

   In the depths of the hood of her rain coat, Tom can see Mia's face
contort in horror and sorrow.  She pulls violently at the chains holding
her and Tom can hear the creaking of strained wood.  The creaking becomes
splintering as the chair sunders.  Mia stands easily despite the more than
five hundred pounds of chains draped across her.  The chains, no longer
anchored by stout wood, fall from her to pile at her feet.  Her eyes
tighten in concentration and the modified legs irons that bind her arms
slip loosely from wrists that have shrunk with change.  She looks down at
the leg irons on her ankles and, even over the din of combat, Tom can hear
the clicks of locks disengaging.

   Mia's Master, ignoring the arrows that continue to sprout from him,
turns back toward the entrance and begins to run, twisting and dodging past
the bowmen who are now fighting a running battle with the ferals.  As he
reaches the spot where the spear line once stood, Dana, her neck a bloody
mess and crossbow long gone, pushes herself up from the floor with the
splintered remnants of a spear in her hands.  He twists to avoid her, but
it is too late.  Dana throws herself forward to put all of her weight
behind the thrust of her spear and it strikes true and deep into the center
of his chest.  He gazes down at the protruding wood with an odd, beatific
smile on his blistered lips before his eyes become fixed and dull.  Slowly
he falls to the floor next to the limp and motionless form of his slayer.

   Across the room, Mia suddenly releases the terrified bowman that she is
holding from the floor by the throat.  Her head snaps around to watch as
her Master falls.  A look of wonder and exultation appears on her face as
the bonds of compulsion and the knot of emotion that was her Master
evaporate to nothingness.  Glancing quickly around the room she picks out
the densest concentration of ferals and heads toward them in a blur of
motion.



   "Mia, catch!" Tom calls out, throwing a spear sideways towards her.

   Mia grabs the spear from the air and snaps it into three pieces, tucking
one of them under her arm while grasping the other two in her hands.  She
somersaults over a feral that has bent over to finish off one of the
bowmen. As she rolls over its back, she thrusts one of the dull pieces of
wood completely through its chest before flipping upward to land between
two others of its kind.

   Grabbing the piece of wood from under her arm, she spins while extending
her arm, impaling one of the two ferals through the heart.  In the same
motion, she drives the wood in her other hand up through the other feral's
chin until it emerges from the top of its head in an explosion of brains,
bone and blood.

   Noticing that the flow of water from the sprinklers had slowed to the
merest of trickles, Mia decides to risk a change that will expose her skin.
Pieces of the rubber glove that had covered her left hand fall to the floor
as her nails extend into sharp talons and bony spikes grow from the back of
her hand.

   Ferals are faster and stronger than sentient vampires of the same age,
but Mia has an advantage of more than a century.  She moves from feral to
feral and none are able to stand against her for more than mere seconds.

   As she draws her changed fist from the chest cavity of the last of the
ferals, casually casting its heart to the side, Mia glances up at the few
policemen who remain standing, watching her with a mixture of fear and awe.
"You must drive wood through the hearts of the fallen undead or they may
heal and rise again," she directs.

   As the officers hurry to follow her instructions, Mia moves to stand
over the body of her former Master.  He had fallen too easily, she decides.
None of the officers had turned their weapons upon their comrades; none had
halted in confusion as their memories of the past weeks were torn from
them; and he had moved entirely too slowly.  She wonders if this enigma has
something to do with the change in emotion she had felt coming from him the
previous morning.  Was it possible that he had come here seeking his own
destruction?

   Mia's thoughts are interrupted by a small, bubbling groan from the
slight body lying next to that of her Master.  Mia kneels by Dana and
gently turns her over onto her back, wincing at the sight of the grievous
injuries that the woman has sustained.  Mia cannot imagine how the woman is
managing to cling to life.  Hearing footsteps behind her, Mia says, "Call
for an ambulance.  She will need a great deal of blood."

   Tom steps in closer and gives Mia's shoulder a comforting squeeze, "We
already put in the call.  Ambulances are on the way."

   Mia nods in response, but her attention is focused on Dana.  "You saved
all of us," she whispers fiercely, "Thank you."

   Mia bends down over the wounded woman and begins to lick gently at her
wounds.  While not nearly as intense as a true feeding, involuntary
shudders of pleasure still run through Mia's body at the taste of Dana's
blood.  At the same time, enough vampiric saliva is entering Dana's system
to make her writhe sensuously on the floor.  With each broad pass of Mia's
tongue, Dana's wounds close ever so slightly.

   As Mia is tending to Dana's injuries, Tom moves around the room checking
on the remaining members of his task force and making certain that the
ferals will never rise again.  If this could be considered a victory, he
decides, it was a pyrrhic one at best.  Of his eight spear carriers, only
one still lives, although that one, by some miracle, is completely
unscathed.  His bowmen have fared somewhat better; of the nine that had
been in the room, only three are dead.  Of the remaining six, however,
four, including Dana, have a number of broken bones and lacerations that
range from minor to, in Dana's case, life threatening.

   Finally, Tom can no longer keep himself from checking on the final
member of his team.  With dread rising in him, Tom braces himself and turns
his head toward the wall that Mark had hit with such force that there is
almost no chance that he still lives.  To Tom's surprise and great relief,
Mark is sitting at the base of the wall.  One of Mark's legs is sticking
out at an unnatural angle, his breathing is shallow and his arms are
clasped tightly around his chest, but he's alive.

   Tom walks over to stand in front of his friend, places his hands on his
hips, and says, "Well, don't you just look like shit?  When I saw you
flying through the air, I thought for sure that I would be traumatizing
your relatives with one of my infamous inspirational speeches."

   Mark looks up at Tom with a weak grin, moves a hand down to pat briefly
at his ample stomach and replies, "It was the gut that saved me.  All that
extra padding worked better than an air bag."

   As Tom eases himself down to sit next to his friend, Mark starts
laughing but his laughter is quickly cut short by a groan of pain as he
clutches his ribs even more tightly.

   Noticing that Tom is looking at him quizzically, Mark explains, "I was
just imagining the look on that asshole building administrator's face when
he sees this mess."

   Tom looks over the room: the floor is soaked with blood; bodies and body
parts are scattered everywhere; and there is hardly a square foot that
doesn't contain the splintered remains of either the chair or an archaic
weapon.  Tom forces a small chuckle at his friend's joke.  It was either
that or cry.

   After a brief silence, Mark asks, "You do realize that there's something
missing, right?"

   Tom nods curtly, "Yeah.  The bartender and Mr.  Bollinger, but we have
no information concerning their current status, whether they're alive, dead
or undead.  This might not be over quite yet, but let's keep that
possibility to ourselves for now.  Our men have enough on their minds at
the moment."

   Mark nods agreeably and adds, "Speaking of the men's minds, you might
want to go over and check on your girl before those minds sink completely
into the gutter."

   Tom follows the direction of Mark's gaze and his jaw drops open in
astonishment.  "Well," he replies as he gets to his feet, "at least Dana
seems to be feeling better."

   When Mia's tongue at last leaves only unmarked skin in its wake, she
pulls back and gazes with concern into the pale, drawn face of the fallen
woman.  Dana's eyes flutter open and she struggles to focus on Mia.  With a
look of determination, Dana raises her arm weakly until she is able to curl
her hand around the back of Mia's neck.  Mia looks at the other woman with
confusion for a moment before she opens her senses and allows awareness of
Dana's emotional state to flood into her.  A small sympathetic smile
appears on Mia's lips as she allows Dana to draw her down until their lips
touch.

   Dana's kiss is far more passionate than Mia would have expected given
Dana's current physical state.  Soon Dana's tongue stretches out to probe
at Mia's lips, and Mia opens her mouth slightly to allow it entrance.  Mia
tries to return the kiss as passively as possible, not wanting to take any
action that will cause offense once Dana fully returns to her senses. 
Still, she can't resist sucking lightly on Dana's tongue as it explores the
front of Mia's mouth.

   "The ambulances are here," Tom says quietly from behind them.

   Reluctantly, Mia breaks the kiss and lightly brushes blood soaked hair
back from Dana's face.  "You're going to be ok," Mia whispers softly, "but
you need to go to the hospital.  Are you ready?" After Dana nods, Mia
gathers the woman gently into her arms like a child and carries her to the
entrance and the waiting paramedics.

   Over the next half hour, Tom and the five relatively uninjured officers
help the paramedics tend the wounded and load them into the ambulances. 
Throughout the process, Tom repeatedly explains the need for secrecy to the
horrified medics.  Mark, at his own insistence, is the last of the wounded
to be placed on a gurney and carted towards the street.  As several
paramedics struggle to lift the stretcher into the back of an ambulance,
Chief Jacobs rounds the corner and enters the building.  Instinctively, Tom
moves to stand protectively near Mia.

   The Chief gazes grimly at the remaining carnage for a few minutes before
asking, "Is it over, Tom?"

   "I don't know, Denny.  We still have a few bodies that are unaccounted
for," Tom replies.  When the Chief raises an eyebrow in query, Tom quickly
explains.

   When Tom is finished, the Chief sighs in frustration before saying,
"Okay.  I want those two found.  Get pictures of them to all of our
patrolmen and send someone to the morgue to look over the John and Jane
Does.  Until Ms.  George is located, I want someone watching her house and
that of her ex."

   The Chief walks over to one of the fallen ferals and kicks it over onto
its back.  "I recognize this one," he states, "Stanley Carlesi.  Total
scumbag.  Busted him about ten years ago for running a meth lab in his
apartment.  The same apartment he lived in with two young children.  The
kids are completely fucked up now from the chemical exposure."

   Mia and Tom shy backwards in shock as the Chief calmly raises his foot
and brings the heel down forcefully on the body's mouth.  He repeats the
process several times before grunting in satisfaction.  "There we go," he
says, "No more fangs.  Now, it would seem that Stan here, disgruntled over
some perceived injustice, decided to set a bomb off in the courthouse
annex. Fortunately, our brave men and women in blue managed to stop him
while he was just getting set up.  Unfortunately, the explosives he was
carrying killed ten good cops and wounded a few others.  Now that we have a
scapegoat to put in the morgue, I want you and your team to load the rest
of these unnatural motherfuckers into the SWAT van and haul them off and
burn them.  Make sure you do it somewhere that no one will ever find them.
They were never here.  After you're done with that, all of you have the
next week off, barring another incident.  Keep your phones close."

   "Uh, Chief...," Tom begins.

   Jacobs interrupts, "Yeah.  I know it's not perfect, but it's what I can
come up with at the moment.  Any better ideas?"

   Tom thinks for a moment before shrugging his shoulders in defeat, "Nope.
We'll take care of it."

   Several hours later, Tom, still covered in crusted blood from the battle
and now also reeking of burnt meat and smeared with soot, stumbles tiredly
up the steps towards his apartment.  Beside him, Mia, showing no signs of
exhaustion even though she had done most of the heavy lifting involved in
moving and burning the bodies, bounces lightly from step to step.

   With a look of mock indignation, Tom mutters, "Couldn't you at least
pretend to be weary to soothe the ol' male ego?  Hell, you're not even
dirty!"

   "I was wearing that oh-so-lovely rain coat you gave me," she answers
primly.  She then fixes him with a calculating stare, "By the way, don't
even think that you're just going to crawl into bed and sleep."

   "Huh?" Tom answers intelligently.

   "I'm free for the first time in one hundred and fifty years.  You might
be surprised at how horny being released from physical and mental slavery
can make you." She pauses and the sides of her mouth curl upwards into a
mischievous smile as she adds, "Well, Dana helped that condition along,
too."

   Tom chuckles and asks, "I've been meaning to ask you about that.  What
made her go from being scared to death of you to trying to tickle your
tonsils?"

   With a coyly arched eyebrow, Mia replies, "Hmmm?  Oh.  Didn't I tell
you? Vampiric saliva is the greatest aphrodisiac that has ever existed."

   Tom stops for a moment, dumbfounded.  "Huh.  Really?"

   Mia ignores his question and moves ahead of him, adding an exaggerated
swivel to motion of her hips.  Tom watches in appreciation for a second
before continuing up the steps.  He suddenly feels a lot less tired.

   As they enter Tom's apartment, Mia turns and flows into his arms,
pressing her lips tightly against his.  They kiss deeply and tenderly for a
moment until Mia breaks the kiss with a exaggerated sniff.  "Before we get
too carried away," she says disdainfully, "someone here really needs to
take a shower."

   Laughing, they move down the hall towards the bathroom, shedding
clothing along the way.  Once under the warm spray, they resume their
embrace as their hands slide caressingly over the other's body.  Mia moans
as Tom lowers his head to her breasts, sucking lightly on her nipples while
firmly massaging the firm orbs with his hands.

   Tom then trails kisses down the middle of her taut stomach, pausing at
her center to lift her thigh up onto his shoulder, opening her sex fully to
his gaze.  As she holds his head tightly, he delves into her femininity
with his tongue and fingers, bringing her to peaks of pleasure again and
again.  Finally he stands, tracing his face and tongue up the length of her
quivering torso.  She kisses him fervently, her body melting against his.

   Breaking the kiss momentarily, he murmurs, "It seem that saliva isn't
the only one of your juices that's an aphrodisiac," while pressing the
proof of his arousal against the soft skin of her stomach.

   Mia reaches between their bodies to take his manhood in her hand and
strokes it gently.  Her blue eyes lock onto his brown ones as she says, "I
think we're clean enough."

   They burst from the shower stall and hastily dry themselves off before
running to the bedroom, giggling like schoolchildren.  Mia jumps onto the
bed and begins to crawl to the other side when Tom stops her by grasping
her hips.  They both groan in ecstacy as Tom slides into her wet depths
from behind.  Tom knows that there are times to be gentle, but this isn't
one of them.  He immediately begins to plunge forcefully in and out of her,
his loins smacking loudly against the upthrust cheeks of her ass with each
thrust.

   Mia cries out as she again explodes in orgasm and falls forward onto her
stomach; her eyes closing as she savors the sensations that his cock has
evoked inside her.  Undeterred, Tom moves with her, easing onto the bed to
straddle her thighs; his forays into the tight, wet folds of her cunt are
barely interrupted.

   Leaning forward over her back, he asks quietly, "Do you want me to
stop?"

   Her eyes remain closed but a small smile appears on her lips as she
answers, "Mmmm, if you stop, I may just have to bite you."

   Laughing, he redoubles his efforts, enjoying the sight of the small
waves that travel across the firm cheeks of her ass with each impact of his
flesh against hers.  As he continues to drive himself into her, he massages
the muscles of her back and flanks, making her sigh contentedly.

   Slowing, he leans forward until he can nibble lightly on her earlobe
before playfully whispering, "So, what other delightful parts of your
anatomy can you change?"

   Mia's eyes pop open in surprise and she twists her head around in an
attempt to see his face.  She asks, "That doesn't disgust you, frighten you
or anything?"

   Nuzzling her neck, Tom replies, "I told you that I love you, Mia.  There
is nothing about you that I find the least bit disgusting or scary.  Quite
the opposite, actually."

   Mia moves in a blur and Tom squeaks in surprise as he is suddenly lifted
from the bed and twisted around before being deposited firmly onto his
back. Mia straddles him and takes his length fully back inside of her.  He
can immediately feel the difference as folds of moist soft flesh move
caressingly up and down the length of his cock.

   Mia sits motionless astride his hips as her changed cunt massages the
hard flesh inside of her.  Gazing down at him intently, she asks, "So,
you're telling me that even this doesn't freak you out?" Even as she asks
the question, her will forces her mouth to change into the form she had
used the prior night.

   Tom smiles up at her.  Instead of answering with words, he pulls her
down to him and his tongue stretches out to intertwine with all of hers. 
Mia's body melts against his and for a long time they know nothing but
bliss.

   At last Mia breaks the kiss and returns her mouth to its normal form. 
As she raises her upper body, Tom sees her fangs descend into place.

   "Curious?" she asks coyly.

   Tom nods his assent and Mia lowers her mouth to his chest where she
gently pierces his skin with her elongated canines.  She shudders in orgasm
as she feels his cock erupting deep inside of her.  Her orgasm continues
and grows as she laps at the blood that seeps slowly from the shallow
wounds that she has inflicted.  When they are both sated, Mia licks at the
slight punctures to close them and rises until she can gaze softly into his
eyes.

   "I love you," they each say, almost at the same instant.

   Completely and fully happy for the first time in her existence, Mia
snuggles into the chest of her lover.

   The pair continues their lovemaking until dawn, Mia restoring her
lover's vigor with small bites any time it threatens to wane.

   To be continued.



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