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Message-ID: <58913asstr$1241057405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Dreadpirate Tom <dptom@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} Continued story, Blood Lust, Chapts 19-26
Lines: 2269
Date: Wed, 29 Apr 2009 22:10:05 -0400
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Story codes: MF, MFF, Sad, Tort, Vampires, nc, caution, viol
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<1st attachment, "blood lust chapt 19-26.txt" begin>



   Blood Lust, chapters 19By Dread Pirate Tom

   Chapter 19 (Wherein the annoying use of present tense is abandoned as an
offense against all that is good and holy)

   From the dark recesses of a small alleyway nearly a block from the old
jail, Arthur watched the scene unfold through expanded senses.  Early
jubilation turned into disgust as his gambit faltered.  A small shudder
passed through his body as the knot of emotions that had been Jimmy
shattered and vanished; the fledgling's existence brought to an end by a
wounded policewoman wielding a broken stick.  With Jimmy's death, Mia's
bond, which Arthur had passed to his morose fledgling at the close of the
prior night, was also lost.

   Arthur had been curious about the effect that the death of a Master
would have upon its slave.  Would the former fledgling be completely and
immediately free or would it be compelled to carry out the last order that
it had been given?  To Arthur's great disappointment, the former turned out
to be the truth.  Inside Arthur's mind, the small knots of primitive
emotion which represented his ferals winked out as Mia exterminated them in
rapid succession.

   Although Arthur's body remained absolutely motionless within the dark
shadows of the alley, his mind writhed with indecision.  It had been his
hope to witness the anguish on Mia's face as she slaughtered her allies and
her lover before seeking her own doom with the rising of the sun, but that
was no longer an option.  With the passing of her bond, it never would be
again.  He wondered at the action he should take now that James had failed
him.  He could just put an end to the treacherous bitch this instant; the
majority of her friends were dead or wounded and garlic water no longer
flowed from the ceiling.  But no, he decided, that death would be too easy,
too simple, for her.  She owed him prolonged agony as payment for her
betrayal and he was determined to collect in full.  Besides, he reasoned,
deferring her end was no longer a risk, now that her connection to him had
been severed.

   Arthur was pulled from his thoughts by the beam of a flashlight
flickering about the alley before homing in and fixing on his face.  He
cursed his own carelessness.  He had been so focused on the events in the
old jail that he hadn't noticed the policeman's approach.

   "Hold it right there, bud, and keep your hands where I can see them,"
the cop commanded as he approached, "This area was evacuated more than a
half hour ago.  What are you still doing here?"

   With a contemptuous sneer, Arthur lashed out with his will.  The
flashlight clattered to the ground as the cop experienced the discontinuity
of thought that comes with the sudden and dramatic loss of memory.  Arthur
tore into the hapless man's mind again.  Eyes glazed over, the policeman
bent over and retrieved his light before walking past Arthur, his mind
refusing to acknowledge the vampire's presence.

   Arthur waited patiently as Mia and the few remaining policemen in the
old jail tended to their wounded and loaded the remains of James and most
of the ferals into the large van formerly used by the city's SWAT team. 
When the van pulled away, Arthur followed.  He kept pace as the van
traveled outside the bounds of the city to a long abandoned steel mill that
sat like a decomposing corpse among a throng of vacant, ramshackle houses.
There, careful to stay downwind out of respect for Mia's exceptional
olfactory sense, he watched from a distance as the bodies of his former
minions were loaded into the rusted ruins of the mill's Bessemer blast
furnace, doused with gasoline and set ablaze.  Mia and the policemen
somberly tended the fire, liberally adding more fuel as needed, until
nothing but bone remained.  They then took turns crushing the bones to
fragments with a sledgehammer taken from the back of the van.

   The light from the fire and the noise of the hammer drew the attention
of a few bedraggled homeless people who were taking temporary shelter in
the industrial ghost town.  They gathered at a distance and stared,
bewildered, at the scene.  Mia moved among them and they dispersed to go
about their business, retaining no memory of the grim activities they had
witnessed.

   Arthur's interest peaked when one of the policemen embraced Mia from
behind and kissed her softly as she leaned back into him.  Now he knew the
face of Mia's lover.  A small smile appeared on Arthur's face as he
contemplated the man's extremely limited and agonizingly painful future.

   When the police were finally satisfied with their disposal efforts,
Arthur followed the van back to the station.  There he watched Mia and her
mortal climb into the rusty remnants of a first generation Ford Escort.  He
again followed as they traveled to a moderate sized apartment building and
stood watching as they went inside.  Once he had learned the apartment
number, he faded into the night, not willing to tolerate the disgusting
display of emotion for so much as a second longer.

   The passage of less than half an hour found him in South Oakland, a
neighborhood that was a curious mix of dilapidated houses rented out to
college students for ridiculous fees and the far better kept homes of
laborers.  At this late hour, the vast majority of the residents of both
types were deeply asleep in their beds.  In a fit of pique, Arthur vented
some of the pent up rage and frustration from the evening by reaching out
to the sleeping minds with his own as he walked past; invading their dreams
with horrific, nightmare visions.  In his wake, formerly blissful
slumberers woke screaming in terror or, in the case of several elderly
residents, never woke again.

   Shortly, he reached the small, one story house that he had purchased
more than a month ago for just such contingent circumstances as those he
found himself in at the moment.  Entering the living room, lit only by the
diffuse light of street lamps filtering through the curtains, he found
Alicia sitting on the couch, her feet curled beneath her.  Loud snores,
emanating from the bedrooms down the short hallway, revealed the presence
of the mercenaries.

   Alicia stood to greet him, her lips curving upwards in a smile.  Arthur
could not help but notice that the dress he had selected at random from one
of the Bollingers' closets did not fit his fledgling well; being far too
small in the bodice and too large in the hips.

   Running a finger over the exposed skin of one of the breasts that bulged
obscenely out of what had been intended as a daringly low neckline for a
far less amply endowed woman, Arthur commented, "We shall have to acquire
some new attire for you, Alicia.  You will find it difficult to remain
inconspicuous in your current garb."

   She responded with a non-committal shrug of her shoulders, sending
delightful ripples through her mostly exposed bosom.

   Noticing several tell-tale stains on the front of her dress, Arthur said
dryly, "I see that you were playing with our guards.  I trust that you did
not cause them any undue damage?"

   With a sultry smile, Alicia replied, "They're fine, Master." She paused
for a moment, her lips pursed in thought, before adding, "Although they may
be a little sore tomorrow."

   With a light laugh, Arthur settled onto the couch and reached for the
television remote.  "There was much ado at the courthouse this evening,
Alicia," he said, "Let us see how the official cover story is holding up to
media scrutiny."

   As Arthur flipped back and forth between CNN and CNBC, Alicia curled up
next to him on the couch.  One of Arthur's eyebrows rose slightly in
surprise when Alicia undid the front of his pants to expose his manhood
before leaning over to take it into her mouth.  Arthur absently watched
Alicia's head bob up and down in his lap until CNN began to report the
breaking news from Pittsburgh.  Prominently displaying an old mug shot of
Stan, the belligerent bar patron turned feral, over video of police cars
surrounding the old jail, the lovely female anchor recited a story almost
verbatim to that which Arthur had heard Chief Jacobs fabricate earlier that
night.

   As the anchor began to summarize the tragic events of the prior week,
Alicia stood, pulled her dress above her waist and sat on Arthur's lap,
taking his cock fully inside her cold, wet sex.

   Even when Alicia's hips began to rise and fall, Arthur paid the woman
little attention.  Twisting his head in an attempt to see around her,
Arthur commanded, "Lean forward a bit, Alicia dear, you're blocking my view
of the television." Without interrupting the rhythms of fornication, Alicia
immediately complied with her Master's order.

   The anchorwoman next connected Stan and his alleged accomplices with the
massacre that had occurred at Sam's Tavern the previous night,
characterizing the event as a falling out among conspirators.  The reporter
completed the segment on Pittsburgh by rehashing the tired story that the
SWAT team had been lost to a gang of heavily armed thugs.  Typical of the
media in this day and age, even in the absence of actual facts, the anchor
hinted at a connection between all three events and implied that some of
Stan's accomplices could still be on the loose.  The clear implication was
that further acts of violence could, and likely would, occur.  There was no
indication that the media had even thought to question any of the official
renditions of the three events.

   Arthur sat fuming, truly vexed that fear-mongering, celebrity worship
and sensationalism had taken the place of true investigative reporting
among modern day reporters.  He had gone to so much effort in order to
reveal the fundamental truth that humanity was not as highly placed on the
food chain as they wished to believe, and the news media couldn't even take
the trouble to look beyond the flawed and facile story that had been spoon
fed to them by some low-level public functionary.

   His plan had revolved around his belief that the official cover story
would not hold up to scrutiny; and that there would be spreading awareness
among the mortals that they were little more than cattle.  Once fear,
tempered by the belief that the threat had been ended, had spread
throughout the populace he had intended to again reveal himself in another
act of carnage, tearing away the last final, fragile remnants of their
sense of security.  But there was no sign that the cover story was being
subjected to any scrutiny.  It appeared that he would have to perform an
act of such magnitude that it couldn't be hidden or ignored.  As he
considered how he might accomplish his purpose in the face of the media's
obtuse incompetence, a cold light began to burn in his eyes.  The solution
suddenly seemed obvious.

   His primary concern resolved, Arthur turned his attention to the
fledgling who continued to bounce energetically in his lap.  He found her
lack of resentment and apparent devotion difficult to believe.  With
exacting care, he sifted through the knot of emotions that was the artifact
of her bond to him, but he could find no evidence of subterfuge.  Either
she was exactly what she appeared to be or she was such a master of
deception that she could mold even her deepest thoughts and feelings to fit
the character she wished to portray.  Arthur dismissed the latter
possibility with a snort of laughter.

   Putting his misgivings aside in the face of nearly indisputable
evidence, Arthur reached out to his fledgling and ran his fingers lightly
over her flanks.  The pleasure she experienced at his touch flashed through
the bond even as she orally expressed it with a soft coo.  He traced a
finger down the crack between her buttocks to her anus.  In response, she
slowed her movements to invite further exploration.  His finger slid easily
into the well greased orifice.  He smiled with amusement at her back;
apparently she had entertained the guards far more thoroughly than he would
have guessed.

   Hooking his finger over the delicate ring of muscle, Arthur used it as a
handle to bounce her on his cock with ever increasing rapidity.  Through
the bond, he knew that this was causing her some pain, but, strangely, the
slight pain seemed to incite even greater pleasure.  Briefly he considered
testing the limits of her tolerance, but found that he could not bring
himself to do so.  To his great disgust, part of him was intrigued by the
idea of a fledgling who didn't resent and loathe him.  He knew that if he
wanted to remain strong, to be able to continue to resist the pain and
disappointment that came with the endless flow of centuries, that he had to
be cold, dispassionate, and uncaring.  He needed to crush this newly
discovered weakness so completely that it would be as if it had never
existed.  To his dismay, instead of doing that which must be done, he found
himself removing his finger from her body and sliding his hands gently up
her sides to cup her breasts.

   She leaned slowly back against him until she was pressed against his
chest.  Twisting her head to playfully nip along his jawline, she whispered
excitedly, "Bite me, Master.  Please bite me!" Before he could answer, she
added in a wistful tone, "I tried biting myself, but it didn't work."

   Even as he turned his head and opened his jaws to give her what she
craved, Arthur's eyebrows arched in surprise.  In all of his years, it had
never once occurred to him to try to bite himself as a form of macabre
masturbation.  As his teeth pierced her skin and she writhed and moaned in
ecstacy, he wondered just what he had created when he had given her the
Gift, both in her and in himself.  She bent and bit into one of his hands
that still fondled her breasts and his cares were washed away in the bliss
of release.

   Chapter 20

   Tom's alarm clock forced him from slumber at the disgustingly early hour
of ten a.m.  He rubbed his knuckles into sleep bleary eyes, wanting nothing
more than to roll over and go back to sleep.  That wasn't possible, though.
The city wide memorial service for the men and women lost during the first
raid on a vampire's lair was at noon.  He couldn't miss it.

   Turning to look at Mia's face, peaceful in dormancy, he whispered,
"That's what I get for falling in love with a vampire: too damn accustomed
to the hours they keep."

   He kissed Mia's cool lips lightly and then pulled himself from the bed.
Before exiting the room, he eased the blankets over her head to ensure that
no sunlight would be able to find her.  He quickly showered and put on his
dress uniform, deciding at the last minute that he would just swing through
a drive-thru for breakfast.  To hell with his growing gut.

   A half hour later, still munching on a sausage and egg burrito, he
stopped by the hospital to check on those who had been injured the prior
night.  A short conversation at the reception desk informed him that all
but Dana and Mark had been treated and released, although many of the
others had follow up appointments.

   He stopped by Dana's room first but found her asleep, her face still
pale and drawn despite the blood that had been given to her by IV.  Turning
to leave, he almost bumped into the doctor that had performed the surgery
on the injuries that Mia had inflicted on Mark at their first meeting.

   With a nod toward Dana's sleeping form, the doctor solemnly stated,
"Dramatic and profound anemia, with no sign of injury.  A common condition
as of late, though she is one of the few to survive it.  I will, of course,
continue to profess my ignorance of the underlying cause to anyone who
asks, but I would like to know if there have been any developments."

   With a smile, Tom replied, "Actually, doctor, I think you'll find that
particular condition will be extremely rare from here on out."

   While it was obvious that the doctor craved details, he contented
himself with a relieved nod, "That may be the best news I've had in years.
Thanks for the info, Detective."

   Tom stopped by Mark's room next, grinning with amusement when he saw
that Jenny was perched on the edge of the bed, watching her husband like a
hawk.  The determined look on her face made it clear that she would never
again allow Mark to vanish without her knowledge.  Tom chatted with the
pair until it was nearly time for the memorial service.  Before taking his
leave, Tom had Mark give him the phone number of Peter Black, the former
city police officer who was now involved with a 4H group in a rural suburb.

   Tom called Peter as he drove to the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial in
Oakland.  The news was excellent.  Peter not only did the butchering for
everyone who purchased an animal from the 4H group and didn't have other
plans for the beast, but also did a fair amount of such work for the
farmers in his area.  Peter estimated that he processed between ten and
fifteen animals each week, and, because he worked the daylight shift for
the municipal police department, he did all of the butchering at night. 
Finally, and most importantly, the animals were usually delivered to Peter
alive and, if someone else wanted to pay a nominal fee for the privilege of
killing them, Peter had no objection so long as the meat wasn't damaged. 
The "nominal fee" that Peter quoted was even actually nominal.  Tom set up
an appointment for that evening, and concluded the call just as he arrived
at the parking garage near the memorial.

   Tom was pleased at the turnout for the memorial service, which had been
expanded at the last minute to include those who had fallen the night
before.  It appeared that every off duty police officer within a hundred
mile radius had come to pay their respects and more than a few had traveled
much farther.  There were also far more civilians present than he had
expected, and, although some were obviously there only for the spectacle of
the event, most were somber and seemed grateful to the men and women who
had given their lives in service to the public.  This was so even though
the masses still had no idea what these men and women had faced.

   By the time all the speeches had been given, and the hearses, at the
head of a miles long procession, had carried the honored dead across the
city to be lowered into the welcoming earth, the sun hung low in the sky.
Tom whispered a final farewell to his fallen brethern, and then left to
address the needs of the living, or at least the needs of a single undead.

   Traffic was unexpectedly light on the way back to his apartment and he
arrived with more than an hour left until dusk.  He decided to put the time
to good use and curled up on the bed next to the dormant form of his lover,
gently pulling her body toward him until she was spooned against him. 
Within moments he was asleep.

   For Mia it seemed that every awakening over the past week had brought
with it a completely novel experience.  This night it was the feeling of
waking up wrapped snugly in another's arms.  She felt deliciously,
wonderfully warm as she had not since the time of her Change.  While
extremes in temperature did not cause her discomfort, warmth such as this
remained exceedingly pleasant.  With a happy murmur, she snuggled herself
deeper into Tom's chest.  Moments later, his arms tightened around her as
he, too, came awake.

   Mia twisted herself around until she could draw him to her for a kiss
which lingered on until Tom pulled himself away with a reluctant sigh.

   Giving Mia a light, affectionate pat on the bottom, he said, "I wish we
could stay like this all night, but we have places to go and people to
see."

   "Oh?" Mia whispered indifferently as she gently tried to pull his mouth
back to hers.

   "I was thinking that I would take you out for dinner," Tom elaborated
even as his halfhearted resistance of her efforts failed and their lips met
again.

   This time it was Mia who disengaged.  Tom laughed at the bewildered look
on her face and explained the arrangement that he had reached with Peter
Black.

   "Okay.  Let's give it a shot," she said when he finished.

   After a quick shower and an hour drive into rural western Pennsylvania,
they arrived at Peter's abode, an ancient but well maintained farmhouse
sitting in the middle of recently plowed fields that stretched over the
gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

   As they exited the car, Peter came out to greet them.  Of average
height, he was thick with muscle and had a broad, kind face topped with
hair that was beginning to thin despite his relative youth.

   After introductions and handshakes had been exchanged, Tom gazed around
the countryside as he commented, "A policeman, a butcher and a farmer.  I'm
impressed."

   With a chuckle, Peter replied, "The land's mine, been in the family for
a couple generations, but I rent it out to a real farmer who lives down the
road a ways.  I barely have the time to keep a small garden behind the
house."

   After sizing Tom up for a moment, Peter ventured, "I gotta tell ya that
I didn't know what to make of your call, so I dialed Mark up.  He vouched
for yinz guys, said you were on the up and up, and promised that yinz
weren't gonna be doing nothing perverted.  He also told me that I shouldn't
ask no questions, so I won't.  What you want with them animals ain't none
of my business and, as long as you don't mess up the meat, I won't make it
my business.  I got two pigs in the barn out back that need butchering
tonight.  I reckon that you can find the barn on your own.  Let me know
when yinz are done so I can do what needs doing 'fore the meat goes bad."

   Tom shook Peter's hand again, slipping the man a folded up twenty in the
process.  With a polite nod, Peter thumbed the cash into his pocket and
vanished back into the house.  Walking around the side of the house, Tom
and Mia found only a corrugated metal garage that, by the process of
elimination, had to be the barn to which Peter had referred.  When Tom
raised one of the double garage doors, bright florescent light spilled out
into the darkness.

   The building had only a single room which was highly utilitarian in
nature.  The area closest to the door was filled by a stall, large enough
to hold several cows but currently containing only the two pigs that Peter
had mentioned.  On the floor near the stall, the pair could see a coiled
hose and several industrial sized bottles of Clorox.  It was apparent that
the room had been designed for easy cleanup with the poured concrete floor
being inclined slightly downward toward a large drain located in the
center. The sides of the room were lined with a variety of smokers and
freezers, some of which were partially dismantled.  At the rear of the
room, a large wooden table, covered with a variety of knives, saws and
clamps, spanned the width of the building.  Every surface was spotlessly
clean and the room reeked of bleach.

   For several minutes, Tom and Mia leaned against the stall wall, gazing
uncertainly at the huge swine within.  In contrast, the pigs showed no
interest whatsoever in their visitors but merely continued rooting around
in the thinly strewn hay on the floor.  After forcing her doubts aside, Mia
vaulted over the waist high enclosure.  The instant her feet touched the
floor, the pigs raised their snouts, nostrils opening wide as they sniffed
the air deeply.  Both beasts immediately started to tremble, their eyes
rolling until the whites showed prominently.  Then Mia's inhuman speed was
put the test as the pigs charged in a frenzy around the stall while
squealing in fear.  Once she was able, Mia hopped back over the wall and
delved into their primitive minds until they calmed and grew still.

   Returning to the interior of the stall, Mia concentrated on one of the
beasts until, snorting softly, it fell to its knees and then over on its
side.  Its breathing became deep and regular as it was forced into sleep.
Mia then ran a finger around the neck and throat of the other swine,
feeling for the pulse of a large artery.  Failing to locate one, she slid
her hands down the pig's body.  She located a pulse on the underside of the
tail, but refused to feed so close to the pig's anus.  Fortunately, as she
picked up each of the legs in turn, she found surface arteries on the back
of each.

   Mia crooned softly to the pig until it sank to the floor to lay on its
side.  Rolling it fully over onto its back, she examined the lower part of
one of the front legs more carefully.

   Looking up at Tom, she asked, "Um, could you find a clean rag, wet it
down and give it to me?"

   Tom did as she asked.  Once the leg had been cleaned as much as
possible, Mia hesitantly lowered her head and bit into the pulsing artery.
Hot blood gushed into her mouth, but, while it did give her some pleasure,
it did not send her to the heady heights of orgasmic bliss that human blood
did.  The pig, on the other hand, grunted wildly as its hindquarters
frantically humped up off the floor.  Mia averted her eyes when its penis
slid from its sheath.

   Mia continued to feed until the swine had breathed its last.  As she
rose back to her feet she took the massive head in her hands and twisted
until she heard the neck snap.  Seeing Tom wince at the sound of breaking
bone, she explained, "I have no idea what effect my bite might have on an
animal, but I bet Pete would be really upset if it jumped up off the
butcher's table and bit him before running loose to ravage the
countryside."

   They both giggled slightly at the mental image that Mia's words created,
but Tom sobered quickly and asked, "So, uh, how was it?"

   Mia considered the question for a few seconds before answering, "It
certainly wasn't the best meal that I ever had, but I think it will
suffice, at least for a day or two."

   After a moment's thought, Tom asked, "Do you need the other one, too?"

   Mia shook her head, "I don't think so.  Just one held a lot more blood
than I'm used to taking in all at once."

   Tom quickly jumped backwards as Mia heaved the body of the massive beast
out of the enclosure before hopping out herself.  She dragged the carcass
near to the drain and then fetched a knife from the butcher's table.  As
she made incisions over the leg arteries, she explained, "No matter what
assurances he gave us, Peter will get curious if his animals are drained
completely of blood without any major injuries or mess.  Could you grab the
hose and spray off the pig and the area around it?  That will make it look
like we washed the mess down the drain."

   Tom nodded, seeing the logic in her plan, and did as she told him.  As
he sprayed water over the already clean area, he asked, "I'm guessing that
doing things like this is how you stayed hidden for all those years?"

   She nodded, "Partially.  The other part was who we chose to feed on.  No
offense to your department, but, generally speaking, when gangbangers,
homeless people or petty criminals turn up dead there isn't much of an
investigation.  The loss of blood is explained away through the assumption
that the victim was killed elsewhere and then transported."

   While he wanted to defend the dedication and impartiality of police
departments everywhere, Tom couldn't really refute her point.

   After telling Peter that they were done and making arrangements to meet
him again in two days when he was scheduled to butcher a lamb, they started
the drive home.

   As they entered the outskirts of the city, Tom reached over and took her
hand, squeezing it gently.  "You know," he said with a smile, "After going
out to dinner, it's traditional to take your date dancing or to the movies
or something."

   Mia returned his smile with a broad grin of her own, "Dancing sounds
fun."

   Several hours later, Tom trudged slowly up the stairs to his apartment.
His hair and shirt were damp with sweat and his legs felt like rubber. 
Dancing with Mia had been much like one of the aerobic training sessions
during his academy days, only lasting much, much longer.

   He groaned as she gave him a playful swat on the butt, too tired to even
flinch.

   "Get moving, slowpoke," she chirped, "I'm not done with you yet."

   "I swear that you're trying to give me a heart attack," he replied with
mock indignation, "I'm not as young as I used to be, you know."

   "Pfft," Mia scoffed, "I'm more than a hundred years older than you and
you don't hear me whining."

   At the next landing, she pressed her lips to his ear and, in a soft,
throaty whisper, told him exactly what he could expect once they made it to
his apartment.  He found the energy to run up the last two flights of
stairs as Mia laughed behind him.

   The passage of a few more long and extremely pleasant hours found them
lying languidly entwined in Tom's bed.  He was even more exhausted now, but
didn't mind in the slightest.

   Snuggling her head into the crook of his neck, Mia murmured happily,
"See?  You're not so old and decrepit after all."

   Grinning, he began to respond when he was interrupted by the hum of his
cell phone vibrating against the top of his night stand.  He stared at it
with dread as it continued to ring; the last call he had gotten at three in
the morning had led to him wading through blood at Sam's Tavern.  Finally,
with a reluctant groan, he pushed himself out of bed and answered the phone
as he fumbled his way toward the bathroom.

   Several minutes later, he came running back, already punching the phone
number of the first member of his team on his list into the cell phone. 
"Bad news.  Really bad," he told Mia in an agitated voice, "Would you be
willing to give us a hand?  We could probably really use it."

   Mia hopped from the bed and began to pull on her clothes.  "Of course,"
was all she said.

   Chapter 21

   Arthur strolled slowly around the perimeter of the William Penn Hotel.
Alicia, now wearing an elegant evening gown that fit her perfectly, walked
quietly at his side.  With the tragic events of the past week and the
historically large memorial service earlier that day, the news media had
flocked to the city like vultures to fresh carrion.  Many of them had
roosted here at the city's finest hotel.  With his extended senses, Arthur
could feel their pretentious, petulant minds teeming throughout the
building, waiting hopefully for yet another tragedy to befall the city, one
that could be exploited in the name of ratings.  He would give it to them.
After all, what better instrument could there be to bring fear to the
masses than the slaughter of the fear-mongers themselves?

   As they walked, Alicia asked, in a tone that was curious rather than
reproachful, "Does the killing of innocents ever bother you, Master?"

   Arthur let out a surprised laugh.  "I am surprised to hear you ask such
a question, child," he replied, "I would have thought that you, of all
people, would realize that, among humanity, there is no such thing as
innocence; only degrees of guilt."

   She pondered his words as they walked to the entrance of the hotel. 
They nodded amiably as the doorman, dressed in an extravagant colonial era
uniform, threw the door wide to allow them entrance.  Arthur gazed
appreciatively around the luxuriously appointed lobby, from the fine
crystal chandeliers to the well polished marble floor.  The center of the
room was filled with arrangements of plush, comfortable looking furniture
while the periphery was a melange of store fronts.  The two areas were
separated by an elegant railing topped with a deeply polished hardwood
handrail.

   They strode casually across the lobby to the area devoted to the hotel's
administrative offices; in their expensive attire no one gave them a second
look..  There, Arthur reached out with his mind to touch those of the few
security guards on duty, planting suggestions to ensure that they would not
take notice of the images of Arthur and his fledgling which would
doubtlessly soon appear on the security monitors.  The duo then walked to
the elevators where Arthur contemplated the buttons for a moment before
deciding to start at the bottom and work his way up.  Eager anticipation
coursed through him as the time of the slaughter grew nigh.  As the doors
slid shut, a business traveler happened to look through the shrinking gap
to meet Arthur's eyes.  His briefcase fell from fingers that had gone
suddenly, inexplicably weak and every hair on his body stood on end.

   Several floors up, the first floor with guest accommodations, Arthur and
Alicia strode out of the elevator and walked to the first door in the short
hallway.  Arthur probed the interior of the room and then the locking
mechanism with his expanded senses.  Satisfied with what he had discovered,
he raised his hand to the lock and focused his will, causing the pins and
tumblers to fall into place.

   There were two men inside, each sitting on one of the identical double
beds that filled most of the room's floor space.  The room was cluttered
with a number of video cameras, tripods and various other tools of the
trade for a professional cameraman.  As the door silently opened, they
looked up from the laptops on which they had been reviewing the day's
footage.

   The one sitting closest to the door looked at the intruders with
irritation and began to speak, "I'm sorry, but I think you have..."

   His voice cut off with a gurgle as Alicia grabbed him by the neck,
smiling at him with malicious glee before sinking her fangs deeply into his
throat.  Moving swiftly across the room, Arthur broke the other man's jaw
with a casual backhand to forestall any potential cry for help.  Grabbing a
handful of hair, Arthur bent the man's head sharply to the side and then
joined his fledgling in the joy of feeding.

   Several minutes later the men lay sprawled across their beds, their
sightless eyes fixed and staring at the ceiling.  Arthur paid them no
further heed.  He briefly inspected his fledgling to ensure that her attire
bore no suspicious stains and then led her back out into the hall, pausing
briefly to place a "Do Not Disturb" sign over the knob.  They moved from
room to room and from floor to floor.  It did not matter if they found
their victims asleep, awake, alone or in groups; it made no difference if
those they encountered tried to run or stood to fight.  Once the pair
entered a room, they did not leave until all within were dead.  There were,
however, some rooms that they did not enter.  There simply was not enough
time to clear the entire hotel in a single night and leaving witnesses was
a crucial part of the exercise.  Arthur was careful to leave at least one
cameraman and, occasionally, a reporter alive on each level.

   As had been the case in Sam's Tavern several nights before, the two were
forced to regurgitate the blood that they had consumed after every few
victims so that they might continue the feeding frenzy.  In an impromptu
competition, they did so in as gruesome a manner as possible in an attempt
to achieve the greatest effect upon any who might view the scenes in the
aftermath of the evening.

   As they moved up to the higher floors of the building, they began to
come across the suites, occupied by reporters who had achieved celebrity
status, wealthy businessmen and a few vacationers and honeymooners.  When
death came to their doors, status meant nothing and wealth could buy no
privileges.

   It took more than a few hours after the carnage had begun for the pair
to clear somewhat more than half of the nearly six hundred rooms of the
large hotel, but, finally, there was only one area remaining: the
presidential suite.  In the hall outside the luxurious and expensive
apartment, Arthur waved his hand over the door knob and watched as the
indicator light for the electronic lock went from red to green.  Pushing
the door open, he and Alicia entered a foyer dominated by a round table of
polished marble centered below a crystal chandelier.  To their right was a
large, elegantly appointed meeting room, to the left an identically sized
room which had as its focal point a baby grand piano.  All three rooms were
empty.

   Arthur pushed his awareness through the rooms and discovered that there
were three people within; one alone in a bathroom and the other two each
sleeping on their own twin bed in a room that would have been described as
servant's quarters a century ago.  Passing quickly through a dining room
and kitchenette, Arthur entered the master bedroom with Alicia close on his
heels.  The bathroom and its lone occupant were on the opposite side of the
only other door to the room.

   Throwing that door open, he and Alicia burst into a lavishly appointed,
steam filled bathroom.  Inside, a woman laid semi-reclined in a large,
marble whirlpool bath.  Even if he had not already been sifting through her
memories, Arthur would have known her on sight.  Her name was Naomi Harper
and she had been voted the most trusted news anchor in the country the
previous year.  At the moment, her adoring fans would barely recognize her
as the perky blond that they so loved; a sullen glower twisted the delicate
features of her face and her mind seethed with resentment over having been
sent here by the network executives to cover the day's memorial service in
person.

   As she registered their presence, Naomi threw a hand across her breasts
and hunched down to immerse herself more fully in the steaming water.  Her
face contorted in rage, she screamed, "Who the fuck are you?  Actually,
fuck that; I don't care.  Just get the fuck out!" The arm not covering her
breasts rose from the water to imperiously point out the way.

   "Tsk, tsk, Naomi," Arthur replied in a low, condescending tone, "What
would your viewers say if they heard such vulgar profanity coming from your
lips?"

   Ignoring the question, Naomi shrieked, "Tricia, Victor, get your asses
in here!"

   Almost immediately, Arthur heard rapid footsteps approaching the master
bedroom.  His eyes narrowed in concentration and claws again extended from
his fingertips.  Seconds later, Victor, Naomi's personal administrator, and
Tricia, her makeup and wardrobe consultant, sprinted into the room, their
hair and slight clothing in disarray from sleep.

   Naomi, her composure restored by the arrival of reinforcements,
commanded coldly, "Escort these intruders out of the suite and call
security.  I most certainly will want to press charges."

   After giving Alicia a quick nod, Arthur spun and drew his clawed hand
across Victor's abdomen, spraying blood and bits of viscera across the fine
porcelain tiles of the bathroom wall and Naomi's face and breasts.  At the
same moment, Alicia threw Tricia to the floor and pounced upon the supine
woman, exposing her fangs in a snarl before sinking them into Tricia's
throat.  The obscene sucking noises of her voracious feeding echoed through
the small room.

   Stepping around his feeding fledgling, Arthur walked slowly toward the
stricken woman in the bathtub.  "I have a job for you, Naomi," he said,
"You are going to be the one who reveals our presence to the world.  But
that will not be possible until you understand our nature."

   Arthur's words pulled Naomi from her dazed stupor.  "Who the fuck are
you?" she asked shrilly as she frantically wiped at the blood spatters on
her face.

   In a patronizing tone, Arthur replied, "I believe the proper question is
'What the fuck are we?'" Turning his head pointedly toward where Alicia
still fed on the writhing, moaning makeup artist, he continued, "You were
an investigative reporter before you became an anchor.  Surely the answer
to that question must be obvious."

   Naomi stared in shock as Tricia grew still and a death rattle emanated
from her ravaged throat.  "You killed them," Naomi said numbly.

   "Ahh, there are the astute powers of observation that have won you such
esteem," Arthur said mockingly as he took her by the hair and dragged her
whimpering from the tub.  He threw her to her knees at his feet and ran his
gaze up and down her trembling form.  Naomi, who he could see was a natural
blond, was in her early to mid-thirties, and had the tight, toned body of
one whose career depended on being physically attractive.  She squealed as
he curiously flicked one of her breasts with a clawed finger, confirming
that her impressive bust was entirely natural.

   Gazing up at him with wide, terrified eyes, Naomi whimpered, "What do
you want?"

   Arthur sneered down at the woman, "I want all of mankind to spend their
nights trembling in fear behind heavy, locked doors.  I want the best and
strongest that humanity has to offer to hunt me that I might rend their
flesh and consume their life.  I want my kind to take our rightful place as
masters of this world with you as our chattel." He paused for a moment, his
lips curling up into the semblance of a smile, before he continued, "But
first, dear Naomi, I want to listen to you scream in agony as I fuck you."

   As he pulled his erect cock from his pants, Arthur caused his claws to
curl into talons and sank them lightly into the skin of her scalp.  Once
she was held firmly in place, he eased forward until the head of his
manhood brushed against her soft lips.

   Naomi's mouth twisted with distaste at the sight of his large, ugly cock
and, with a fierceness that did not extend to her eyes, she spat out, "If
you even try to stick that in my mouth, I swear to God that I'll bite it
off."

   Arthur laughed, "I admire your spirit, dear, but I'm afraid you are
mistaken."

   Naomi's eyes again widened in shock as her jaw dropped open and her lips
pursed in an oval, both refusing to respond to her efforts to move them. 
She gagged as his member pushed over her tongue.  He immediately began to
hump violently into her face, the head of his cock punching brutally into
the back of her throat with each thrust.

   Arthur switched his attention to Alicia, who sat licking her lips as she
watched her Master's cock plunge in and out of Naomi's mouth, "Where are
your manners, Alicia?  It would only be polite to pleasure our generous
host."

   Alicia hesitated momentarily as she searched her Master's words for
hidden meaning or intent.  Finding none, she dropped to the floor and
wormed her head back between Naomi's thighs.  Once there she began to lap
at the woman's labia and swirl her tongue around the small pink lump that
hid Naomi's clit.  Concentrating, Alicia attempted to change her tongue, to
make it longer and thicker, but her ability in this area was lacking: if
her effort had resulted in any change, she was unable to discern it.  Using
her standard appendages, she tried her best to arouse the terrified woman,
but everything she did came to naught.

   Arthur's voice resonated from above her, "You know what to do, Alicia.
Just take care not to drain her."

   Alicia's face flushed slightly in embarrassment at having missed the
obvious solution.  Turning her head to the side, she sank her fangs into
the silken skin of Naomi's thigh.  Naomi squealed at the pain caused by the
piercing of her flesh and then moaned around the cock that continued to
violate her mouth.  The scent of Naomi's arousal, as well as her own,
filled Alicia's senses as she withdrew her teeth and licked daintily at the
wounds until they closed.  Turning her head she bit into the opposite thigh
with similar effect.

   After a few minutes, Arthur pulled his cock from Naomi's mouth and
relinquished control over her jaw.  Peering down at his enthusiastic
fledgling, he murmured, "That will be enough for now, Alicia." He grabbed a
handful of Naomi's hair, and forced her head back to peer curiously into
her watery, bloodshot eyes.  Another half smile twisted his lips as he
noticed that his thrusting pelvis had bloodied her nose.  Without another
word, Arthur turned and dragged the struggling, whimpering woman into the
bedroom.  At the side of the larger than king sized bed, he effortlessly
lifted the squealing woman by her hair from the floor and tossed her onto
the mattress.  She immediately scrambled to the bed's center, clutching her
knees protectively to her chest as she stared at him with fear and
loathing.

   Naomi's eyes never left Arthur as he removed his pants and folded them
carefully over one of the chairs in the room.  When he returned to the bed,
she attempted to avoid his grasping hands, but he was just too fast. 
Gripping her ankles tightly, he pulled her toward him until her hips were
flush with the edge of the bed.  His cock sank effortlessly into her cunt,
still moist from the pleasure that Alicia had forced upon her.  She sobbed
weakly as he plunged rapidly in and out of her depths.

   Arthur twisted around to look at Alicia.  "You may resume," he said
perfunctorily as he gestured toward Naomi's breasts, which jiggled with
each of his thrusts.

   In the manner of a cat stalking a mouse, Alicia crawled onto the bed. 
For a moment she hovered over the woman's quivering chest, licking her lips
lasciviously as she delighted in the scent of Naomi's terror.  Then, in a
frenzy, Alicia lunged downwards, sinking her fangs into the tender flesh of
Naomi's breasts again and again.

   As Naomi cried out in pain and pleasure, Arthur narrowed his eyes in
concentration.  A forlorn whimper came from Naomi's lips as she felt
something thin and wormlike begin thrashing around in the deepest part of
her vaginal canal.  The whimper rose in pitch and became a scream as the
tendril located the tiny entrance of her cervix and burrowed its way
inside.

   Once Arthur had fully penetrated the narrow entrance to Naomi's womb, he
focused his will to return his cock to its former thickness while retaining
its current length.  As her cervical passage was forced open, Naomi
screamed in agony, agony that was not mitigated in the slightest by the
involuntary orgasms that Alicia continued to inflict upon her.

   Arthur fucked the sobbing, whimpering Naomi with long, rapid strokes,
the head of his greatly lengthened erection forcing its way into her womb
with every thrust.  The heady scent of her suffering soon brought him to
the brink and he ground his loins against her upheld thighs as he erupted
directly into her womb.

   As soon as his climax faded, Arthur tore himself abruptly from Naomi's
channel, prompting her to scream yet again.  Arthur dismissed Alicia with a
gesture and then bent and whispered in Naomi's ear, "When morning comes, I
want you to tell the world that an evil stalks the night.  An evil that
glories in their pain and their fear and their suffering.  An evil that
lives by consuming their lives and which has no regard for mortal status,
wealth or position.  Tell them that no one is safe; that, in our eyes, all
of you are merely cattle to be consumed and cast aside.  Tell them this,
Naomi, or I will return for you, and next time I will not be so gentle."

   Arthur quickly dressed before returning to the bathroom for the make-up
artist's body.  As he dragged the corpse through the bedroom, he noted with
satisfaction that Naomi had curled into a sobbing fetal ball on the bed. 
She would remember, Arthur knew, and she would obey.  He began to exit the
room but suddenly stopped and turned to regard Naomi with narrowed eyes. 
"One more thing, Naomi.  Tell them that my name is Arthur, and that I am
not as easy to kill as the pathetic constabulary of this city had hoped."

   Exiting the suite, he casually tossed Tricia's body down the stairs
before jamming the steel stairwell door closed with an axe taken from an
emergency locker in the hall.  It would not long deter anyone who was able
to apply reason, but it would likely keep ferals off this floor.  He then
led Alicia to the elevator.  As they descended through the building, he
could feel little bubbles of primitive emotions form in his mind as the
first of his ferals awoke.  From the expression on Alicia's face and the
feel of her through their bond, he knew that she was experiencing the same.
Tonight there would be no attempt to bring them under control; left to
their own devices, they would serve his purpose perfectly.

   As they walked through the lobby, inhabited at this hour by only a few
oblivious hotel staff and several guests who had been out for a late night
on the town, Arthur slowed and then stopped.  With the ferals already
rising, there was no longer any reason to avoid drawing attention to the
hotel.  Quite the opposite in fact; if the place escaped notice until dawn,
the impact would be much reduced.  He began to draw looks from the staff as
he stared back and forth between them, his lips pursed in contemplation as
he decided their fate.  On some level, even their bored and tired minds
could sense the menace and malice of his intent.

   There was no point in Changing these few who remained, Arthur decided,
dawn would come well before they could rise.  Arthur suddenly recalled
another of Kei's children who had walked the earth centuries before
Arthur's own Change.  One who had followed a similar path to that which
Arthur was on now and who had devised a unique method of sowing fear among
his enemies.  A method that had been so effective that his name still lived
on in dark myth and legend.  Yes, Arthur decided, it would only be fitting
to pay homage to his Wallachian brother as humanity was again forced to
acknowledge the terrifying reality that his kind walked among them.

   Moments later the silence of the lobby was broken by agonized screams
and cries for mercy.  The screams continued on until well after Arthur and
his fledgling had departed.

   Chapter 22

   When Mia and Tom arrived at the hotel, they found the place completely
surrounded by black and whites.  Behind each of the vehicles, cops with
wide, frightened eyes squatted with their guns drawn.  Several portable
spotlights had been brought to the scene and their bright beams traced back
and forth across every face of the historic building.  As Tom and Mia drew
close, they could see that a bullet ridden body was lying on the sidewalk
in front of the shattered hotel entryway.

   In a combat crouch, Tom ran from the car to the side of the nearest
police officer.  Mia, remaining upright, followed at a far more sedate
pace, her eyes roving up and down the besieged building.

   Tom asked the officer, whose name tag proclaimed him to be "Rudowski,"
"What's the situation?"

   "Fucked if I know," Rudowski replied, his eyes never looking away from
the darkened hotel entrance, "We got a garbled radio message from some
patrolmen who had noticed that the lights were out in the lobby.  They
entered and reported some pretty horrible shit.  There were some shouts,
some gunfire, some screams, and then nothing."

   "Okay," Tom replied as he nodded toward the body on the sidewalk,
"What's the story on that guy?  Who shot him?"

   "That would be us, sir," Rudowski answered, "Problem is the bastard
won't stay down."

   Before Tom could ask another question, Mia crouched down next to him
and, in a hushed tone, said, "The place is teeming with ferals.  Hundreds
of them.  Their hunger is nearly overwhelming.  But, I can also sense fear.
There are still some survivors inside."

   There was a sudden flurry of activity as the body on the sidewalk began
to twitch and then rose to its knees.  Its face was that of an average,
middle aged man, but it looked around at the surrounding officers with a
snarl of hatred and rage, its lips pulled back to reveal elongated canines.
Immediately, gunfire broke out from across the line of police.  The feral's
body jerked violently as bullets tore through its flesh while stray shots
added to the damage that previous fusillades had inflicted upon the hotel
entryway.  The gunfire slowed and then ceased as clips were depleted and
the feral's body again slumped to the sidewalk.

   The undead had only been motionless for seconds when all eyes went
upwards at the sound of something heavy striking glass.  On roughly the
fifteenth floor, Tom could see one of the windows vibrate as someone or
something struck it repeatedly from within.  As they watched, the window
cracked and then shattered; shards of glass arching down to tinkle upon the
pavement.  A man's face appeared in the window and, in horrified tones, he
shouted out for help before turning to face back into the room.  A lost and
forlorn cry echoed out into the night as the man launched himself from the
opening.  In the intense beams of the spotlights which had converged on the
plummeting figure, Tom could see that the terror in the man's features
actually faded as he hurtled toward the pavement far below.

   Before the jumper had reached the sharp, sudden and fatal stop that
awaited him, two more forms launched themselves out from the building. 
Unlike the first man, these two showed no sign of fear.  Rather, their
limbs twisted and their mouths opened and closed spasmodically as they
continued to strive to reach the quarry that had resorted to such desperate
means to escape them.

   The sickening thuds of flesh striking concrete had not yet faded when
the two pushed themselves up from the ground.  As they rose, the massive
but bloodless lacerations that they had sustained in the fall closed shut
and their bent and broken limbs straightened as shattered bones popped back
into place.  Again the air was rent by the crack of small arms fire and the
figures were thrown to the ground by the impact of dozens, if not hundreds,
of bullets.

   Tom ran back to his car to retrieve his crossbow; in his confidence that
the crisis had been brought to an end, he hadn't bothered replacing the
improvised spears that been lost in the battle the night before.  He loaded
it as he ran in close enough to the downed ferals to be certain of a lethal
hit even with his meager skills.  He had fired bolts deeply into the chests
of the two vampiric jumpers when a shout warned him that the feral by the
entrance was rising again.  Tom scrambled backwards to clear the fields of
fire of his fellow policemen.  When the feral had again been put down by a
hail of bullets, Tom sprinted forward and fired a bolt into its chest from
point blank range to make certain that, this time, it would stay dead.

   Returning to Rudowski and Mia's side, Tom appropriated the officer's
radio and called out for his team to assemble at his location.  Within
minutes, all seven of the team members who were still healthy enough to
fight had gathered around him.  Tom knew that he could easily bolster the
thin ranks with volunteers from the large force that surrounded the hotel,
but, without appropriate weapons, they could only be a liability.  With
this in mind, he ordered that all but his team stay outside the hotel.

   When his men had readied their weapons, he led them forward toward the
hotel entrance.  Even with Mia's assistance, he knew that their odds
weren't good, but, with survivors still remaining in the building, they had
to try.

   At the entrance, they stopped for a few seconds while Mia probed ahead
with her extended senses.  When she announced that the lobby was clear of
ferals, they moved forward cautiously.  Each of their steps produced loud
crunching sounds as they ground bits of lead crystal from the fallen and
broken chandeliers beneath their feet.  They had only penetrated a few
yards when they heard the crunch of glass behind them.

   Turning, Tom saw that at least thirty uniformed officers had followed
them in.  Before Tom could protest, one of them said, "Look detective, we
know you told us to stay out of here, but you're going to get your asses
kicked with only nine of you." Brandishing his sidearm, he added, "We might
not be able to kill these things, but we can knock them down while you do."

   Tom reluctantly admitted that the man was right and gratefully accepted
the help.

   The group had penetrated a few yards farther into the darkened ruins of
the lobby when a number of the officers turned on their flashlights and
shined the beams around the cavernous room.  What the light revealed made
Tom's mind go numb with horror.  The central lobby had previously been
surrounded by elegant wooden railings, but the handrails had been torn off
and the majority of the posts, which were thick in the middle and tapered
to a point at each end, had been broken loose.  On each of the posts that
remained a body had been impaled, some face up, some face down and some
sitting unnaturally erect.  Almost all wore the colonial era costumes of
hotel staff.

   While those that were vertical had obviously died as the act was carried
out, the bloody hand prints on the posts that jutted through the bodies of
those who were horizontal showed that they had continued to live for some
time.  In many cases, there was evidence that they had died at the fangs
and hands of ferals rather than as a direct result of being impaled.

   Tom's team dispersed to check for life signs, but each of the men who
leaned down to touch a finger to a throat or wrist straightened quickly
with a sharp shake of the head.  What had been done here was an
abomination, but Tom knew that they couldn't linger when there might still
be living people above them.  As it was apparent that nothing could be done
for any of these hapless men and women, Tom motioned for his team to move
on.  With a few hastily muttered prayers, his group followed closely behind
him.  Only Mia stayed behind.  She walked quickly around the edge of the
lobby and gathered up the posts that had been knocked loose.

   Retaining two for herself, she distributed the rest among the police
officers with a muttered, "In case they should get too close."

   Once they had reached one of the stairwells, Mia pulled Tom aside.  "I
think our best hope of clearing this place is to split the group in two,
and send one to each stairwell," she told him, "Give me a radio.  I'll
clear each floor and call you when I'm done.  Then, each group can move up
to make sure nothing slips down the stairs behind us."

   Seeing the concern in his face, Mia said reassuringly, "I'll be fine. 
If I run into a group that I can't handle, I promise that I'll call you on
the radio.  Any other way and you're going to lose some men, maybe a lot of
men.  Trust me on this."

   His worries undiminished, Tom nevertheless nodded his agreement.  As Mia
ran up the steps, he deployed the men as she had suggested.

   Well over an hour later, Mia loped down the hallway of the seventeenth
floor.  The sleeves of her sweatshirt had been torn off and there were
long, bloody rents in her remaining clothing.  The railing posts, now worn
and splintered at the tips, were tucked into the back of her waistband. 
While she used them to deal the final blow to her fallen opponents, she
preferred to do the actual fighting with the claws of her changed hands and
the four inch chitinous spikes that now extended from her elbows.

   On the lower floors, almost half of the ferals had still been sealed in
the rooms in which they had been Changed; their simple minds unable to
grasp the concept of a door knob.  The higher she went, though, the more
she found doors that had been torn from their hinges, split in half or,
more rarely, shattered into splinters.  Some of the doors were broken
inwards, having failed to protect those who had huddled fearfully behind
them.

   She was grateful that there were far fewer ferals on the upper floors;
the rooms and suites here were much larger and had contained fewer people.
There was no way she would have been able to sustain the efforts that had
been required below; the seemingly endless battles and the wounds she had
suffered had taken their toll.  She was moving much slower now, and
maintaining the changes that she had made to herself, a normally effortless
exercise, took constant concentration.

   Mia rounded a corner and saw four ferals ahead of her, beating and
scraping at one of the few intact doors.  Pushing herself to the edge of
her current limits, she was amongst them before they could react to her
presence.  She lashed out with her claws and two of the ferals stumbled
backwards, eviscerated.  Dropping to a knee, she drove her arm back and
felt the spike on her elbow cut through another's diaphragm and lower
sternum to bite into its heart.  As she pulled the spike free, the last
uninjured feral lashed out at her.  She tried to avoid the flailing arm,
but she was too slow and staggered backwards as the blow landed heavily on
the side of her head.  While she was still reeling, it bent over double and
rushed at her, slamming her into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster
as it encircled her with arms like steel bands to pin her in place.

   Pleasure and pain pulsed through her as the beast started to gnaw at her
stomach.  With great effort she ripped her hands free of its encircling
grasp and, after lifting her arms above her head, drove the spikes on her
elbows down into its back and through its ribcage.  Her aim was thrown off
by an orgasmic spasm; instead of hitting the heart, the spikes only punched
into its lungs.  She rotated her arms to shred the delicate organs, but the
feral was barely inconvenienced; although she and Arthur had continued to
breathe after their Change, it was more for the purpose of speech and out
of the ingrained habits of mortal life than because of any actual need.

   The front of her jeans became sodden with her own blood as the
creature's teeth tore ever deeper into her flesh.  In the fringes of her
dimming vision, she could see the ones that she had disemboweled regaining
their feet, their heads twisting to fix ravenous gazes upon her.  Pulling
the spikes free, she drove her knee sharply upwards.  She heard the feral's
ribs crack under the force of her blow, but it retained its hold on her. 
Desperate now, she slashed at its armpits and shoulders with her claws,
tearing through muscle and tendon alike.  Finally, its hold slackened and
she was able to reach the posts tucked into the back of her pants.

   She thrust one of the posts down through the back, ribs and heart of the
one who still held on to her tenaciously.  As it fell to the floor, she
lunged to the side to impale one of the ferals that she had eviscerated
earlier, leaving only one left standing.  As it ran at her with arms
outstretched, she dropped to the floor and swept out her leg, knocking it
from its feet.  Before it could recover, she pounced and grabbed it by the
chin and the back of its head.  With a twist, she snapped its neck,
immobilizing it at least for the moment.  Crawling back to the two that
were truly dead, she pulled her posts free and used them made certain that
none of the ferals would ever rise again.

   The battle over, she slumped against the wall, waiting for the final
orgasmic spasms induced by the bites to her stomach to fade.  Her
concentration faltered and the claws and spikes of her changed limbs
receded and vanished.  She tried to restore the changes, but could not. 
After several minutes, she pushed herself laboriously to her feet and
stumbled to the door that the ferals had been so eager to breach.  She
tried to extend her senses through it, but only succeeded in causing
herself mild vertigo.  Holding her hand to the lock plate, she concentrated
and, after several minutes of strenuous effort, was rewarded by the sound
of the bolt disengaging.

   She wondered if there were actually survivors in this suite.  There had
been so few so far.  Although it had been evident that more than a few
people had been left alive on each floor, most had succumbed quickly to the
ferals.  She pushed the door open and tried to call out, but all that
emerged was a feeble croak.  In the single bedroom of the suite she found a
man cowered against the wall farthest from the door.  The scent of his fear
permeated the room so strongly that it made Mia salivate and reminded her
of just how bland and unsatisfying the blood and life of the pig had been.
She waved for him to leave, but his only reaction was to curl into a
tighter ball.

   The sound of his racing heartbeat thundered in her ears, having an
almost hypnotic effect on her.  She stumbled toward him for a few steps
before she could make herself stop.  What was she doing?  She had as much
as promised Tom that she would now live only on animals.  That promise had,
in a sense, been the price of her redemption.  It had enabled her to leave
her old life of suffering and hatred behind to be reborn into a new
existence filled with far gentler emotions.  Could Tom's feelings for her
withstand the disappointment he would feel if he knew that she had given in
to the hunger and taken another human life?  She had her doubts.

   But, a darker side of her argued, unless she fed, she could not fight
again tonight, and more lives than one might depend on her ability to do
so. Besides, with all the carnage in the hotel, no one need ever know that
this one man hadn't been drained by whoever had created the ferals or the
ferals themselves.

   As she struggled to hold her hunger at bay, her eyes locked on his
throat and the throbbing of his carotids.  She moaned weakly as he exuded a
fresh waft of fear scent that assailed her senses.  She could hear the
man's heart began to race even faster as her fangs slid into place.

   Chapter 23

   The following morning, Tom struggled out of bed at eleven.  Limping his
way to the bathroom, he looked with dismay at his reflection in the mirror.
The lack of sleep and unusual levels of physical exertion were beginning to
show; there were large, dark circles under his eyes, his skin had a rather
unhealthy pallor and the lines around his eyes and mouth looked deeper than
ever.  Looking closer, he thought he could even see a little more grey in
his hair than he remembered.  All in all, he decided, he looked exactly how
he felt, haggard and worn out.

   They hadn't finished clearing the William Penn Hotel until barely a half
hour before dawn.  Although it would probably be more fair to say that Mia
hadn't finished clearing it until then.  Combined, his two groups of police
officers had only taken down a total of three ferals after they had started
their ascent of the hotel.

   By the time they had finished, a crew led by Chief Jacobs himself was
clearing the bodies from the lobby.  After a few words, the Chief had
released Tom and Mia to go home before the sun breached the horizon.  The
Chief had insisted, however, that Tom be in his office at noon.

   Tom showered quickly and returned to his bedroom to dress and check on
Mia.  He couldn't help but worry about her; based on the state of her
clothing at the end of the night, the ferals had given her quite a beating.
After she had fallen dormant into his arms mere seconds after they had
entered the apartment, he had stripped the rags from her body and wiped the
dried and crusted blood and gore from her with a sponge.  Her skin, of
course, had shown no signs of damage, but the fact that she had not
bothered to repair or clean her clothing spoke volumes about what the night
had cost her.  Her demeanor had been decidedly different, as well.  As they
exited the building and drove home, she had been subdued and withdrawn,
staring down at the floor of the car in sullen silence.  He decided that he
would have to give Peter a call during the day to see if there would be an
animal available tonight.

   For all that the night had cost her, the returns had been so small.  Out
of more than a thousand guests and staff, only nine survivors had been
recovered and one of those, found in the Presidential Suite, had been
completely catatonic.  Idly, he wondered if they should have just waited
for the sun to do the work for them.  But no, in that scenario there
wouldn't have been anyone left alive in the hotel and even if six was
horrifyingly disappointing, it was still better than none.

   After making certain that Mia was well covered, Tom drove to the
station. When Tom arrived, Chief Jacobs was sitting at his desk with a
cigarette dangling from his lips, tapping slowly at his keyboard with a
single finger.  His desk was littered with a badly stained, mostly empty
coffee mug, a pizza delivery box and, despite the no smoking signs
displayed prominently throughout the building, an overflowing ashtray.  The
Chief looked up from his computer monitor when Tom rapped softly on the
door frame and, stubbing his latest butt out in the ashtray, motioned Tom
in.

   Without preamble, the Chief waved a remote control toward a small
television and DVR that were precariously balanced on one of the chairs in
the room and said, "This went out on every NBC affiliate first thing this
morning."

   The video showed a number of people racing down a hotel hallway towards
whoever was holding the camera.  As they drew near, the cameraman
apparently realized the danger he was in.  The picture shifted as the man
rotated the camera to face behind him and then bounced violently as he
started running for his life.  The video was still clear enough to show his
pursuers, their lips peeled back from long, sharp teeth, overtaking him.  A
grasping hand filled the screen and then the picture went black.

   "That's all they showed on tv," the Chief commented, "but the unedited
footage is all over the internet."

   Chief Jacobs twisted his computer monitor around until it was facing Tom
and pushed a few keys on the keyboard.  The Chief had cued the clip so that
the raw footage picked up where the broadcast version had cut off.  The
picture was chaotic as the camera spun down the hallway floor but grew
steady as the camera settled on its side.  The people, a prominent Fox News
reporter among them, were holding the helpless cameraman to the floor,
tearing at him with hands and teeth as their hips humped convulsively. 
They continued to bite into him over and over again even after his
struggles had ceased.  When the ferals finally rose and ran off screen, the
time index in the bottom corner of the video sped up and, for a few
seconds, the video showed only an occasional blur of legs running past. 
The time index then slowed to normal speed as a pair of very feminine legs
appeared on the screen.  The legs, which were moving inhumanly fast, slowed
very slightly as they passed the cameraman's body and then bent as the
figure drove a railing post through the body's heart.  The post was torn
free and the woman continued off screen.  Tom was grateful that Mia hadn't
stooped low enough for the camera to catch her face.

   Turning again toward the television, the Chief pushed a few buttons on
the remote as he said, "This went out on CNN and a number of associated
channels."

   Unlike the first, this clip had audio.  It started with the cameraman
complaining about all the noise and promising to show what reporters really
did after hours.  The picture shifted back and forth as the camera was
carried at hip level out into the hallway.  After a whispered, "What the
fuck...," the camera was lifted to a shoulder and showed several doors
shuddering under thunderous blows from within.  With a loud crack one of
the doors burst outward in a shower of splinters.  Two men and a woman, all
three naked, leapt out into the hallway and one of the men threw back his
head to scream with primal rage, an act which revealed his fangs.  Tom
couldn't recall the woman's name, but he recognized her from one of the
morning news shows.  The clip quickly came to an end very similar to that
of the first.

   The Chief leaned back and rubbed his temples with a sigh, "I suppose
we're lucky that these were the only two cameramen who established a
satellite uplink before they started filming.  A number of other cameras
were recovered from the building when we started to clean-up this morning.
Their owners are clamoring for us to release their property, but I've been
holding them off with claims that we need to retain all evidence of the
crimes that occurred until the investigation is complete."

   The Chief tilted his head up to look at Tom with grim, bloodshot eyes,
"There's even worse news.  All morning I've had a number of people at the
hotel counting bodies and looking over hotel records.  We're missing close
to two hundred people.  While I'm sure some of them just spent the night
elsewhere, that certainly doesn't account for all of them.  A lot of those
fucking monsters got loose before we got the building sealed off.  Once
outside, they apparently acted pretty much the same way as they did in
those video clips.  Fortunately, the streets are pretty empty in the wee
hours, but we've already had twenty-eight bodies show up, all pretty
gruesomely..."

   The Chief was interrupted by the ringing of the phone on his desk.  He
answered and listened for a few seconds before again waving the remote at
the television.  After the channel's "live, breaking news" preamble, a view
of a hospital room filled the screen.  Tom immediately recognized the
catatonic woman they had found in the Presidential Suite.  She was sitting
semireclined in the hospital bed, covered to her hips with a blanket and
wearing a hospital gown above.  Her face, which bore not a hint of makeup,
was pale and her hair was in wild disarray.  Uncontrollable shivers wracked
her body as she recounted what her attackers had done to her and her
assistants and recited the message that she had been given.  The more she
spoke, the farther Tom's jaw dropped in shock.

   When she was finished, Chief Jacobs turned to look questioningly at Tom.

   Tom shrugged helplessly in response, "I don't know what to tell you,
Denny.  The female attacker is almost certainly Alicia George, our missing
bartender.  I just can't believe that it was Arthur who was with her.  It
just isn't possible.  I saw Dana kill him.  Hell, I helped burn his body.
Mia confirmed that her bond is gone..."

   When Tom's voice died off into silence, the Chief pulled a pack of
Marlboro Reds from his shirt pocket and shook one out.

   As Denny groped his pockets looking for his lighter, Tom asked quietly,
"Got an extra one of those?"

   Denny shot him an curious look, "I thought you quit."

   "I did, but now seems like a really good time to start again."

   The men sat smoking in silence, both trying to come to grips with the
fact that the disaster that they thought had been averted was apparently
only beginning.  Before they had managed to do so, three men in suits
strode into the room, not bothering with the courtesy of knocking.

   The one in the lead waved his hand distastefully through the smoke that
hung in the air before speaking, "I'm Agent Roper, FBI." Gesturing in turn
to each of the men behind him, he continued, "This is Dr.  Nolan, CDC, and
Agent Keller, Homeland Security."

   Without giving Tom or Denny the opportunity to introduce themselves or
offering a handshake, Agent Roper went on, "With everyone calling their
loved ones, communications to and from this city are such a mess that you
probably haven't heard yet, but an hour ago the Governor of Pennsylvania
declared Pittsburgh to be an emergency disaster area and asked for federal
assistance.  After looking over the news reports, the President agreed.

   "Part of their agreement is that federal agencies will have complete
operational jurisdiction over all matters related to the emergency.  With
the assistance of several National Guard units, we have already placed
roadblocks on every access point to the city.  No one is to be allowed in
or out.  This city has been officially quarantined until we can bring the
outbreak under control."

   Sputtering, Tom interrupted, "Agent Roper, with all due respect, this
isn't a disease we're dealing with!  Haven't you been watching the news? 
There are vampires out there, and if you just treat them like they're
sick..."

   Agent Roper sneered at Tom with contempt, but it was Dr.  Nolan who
interrupted, "Officer, we are not living in the sixteenth century.  We do
not have time for ridiculous superstition.  While the disease may cause
delusions and certain physiological effects, it is most certainly only a
disease."

   Undeterred, Tom broke in, "No.  I know how crazy it sounds, but they are
vampires.  If you're going to have any chance of fighting them you..."

   Agent Roper cut him off, "Enough!  I understand that you've all had a
stressful night, but, if you persist, I will have you taken away for a
psych evaluation and fitness for duty exam.  Now, as I was saying, the
President does not want to destroy the local economy or deprive the people
of this city of essential goods and services.  However, given the massive
and sudden outbreak and the effects of the disease, it is apparent that the
disease must be contained at any cost.

   "Transfer points are being established at the checkpoints on each major
highway feeding into the city.  All commercial traffic carrying anything
but foodstuffs and medical supplies will be turned away.  Food and medicine
will be seized and transferred to decontaminated trucks operated by the
National Guard for transport into the city.  The food and drink will be
taken to multiple distribution points within the city.  Medicine will be
split among the city's hospitals.  Travel within the confines of the city
will be limited to the closest distribution point and the closest hospital.
All businesses will remain closed for the duration.

   "I will need whichever of you is the chief to give my men access to your
duty rosters and contact information.  All of your officers are relieved of
standard duties for the duration of the crisis.  Instead they will first
help spread word of the travel restrictions and distribution centers and
then they will assist us in enforcing the restrictions."

   Chief Jacobs glared at the federal agent, "And what, exactly, are you
planning on doing to anyone who defies the restrictions?"

   Agent Roper replied dispassionately, "They will be detained and confined
until such time as we develop an accurate test for the presence of the
disease.  Once they are proven to be disease free they will be released
with a fine.  A hefty fine."

   Still unwilling to concede, Tom broke in, "Expose them to sunlight.  If
they survive, they aren't vampires.  You should also just let anyone who is
trying to leave in daylight go, the fewer people there are in the..."

   Agent Roper again interrupted, "What's your name?"

   "Tom McNelly."

   Agent Roper pulled a scratch pad from his inner coat pocket and made a
show of writing down Tom's name, "Officer McNelly, you are hereby relieved
of duty until this crisis is over.  Please leave now and return to your
home.  Just so there is no mistake, you are subject to the same
restrictions and consequences for violating them as anyone else."

   Chief Jacobs' face had been growing increasing red with anger throughout
Agent Roper's speech and now he exploded, "Look, I don't know who you think
you are, but I have most of my men searching for the people that got out of
the hotel last night before we got the place secured.  That duty is so
important that I am not about to pull them from it to go around telling
people about your idiotic restrictions.  Furthermore, Tom is one of my best
detectives and I need him here..."

   Agent Roper, as calm as ever, cut the Chief off, "Make no mistake, Chief
Jacobs, the terms that I just gave you are not negotiable.  They are part
of a exhaustive plan designed by people much smarter than you to deal with
circumstances just like this.  As I mentioned earlier, federal agencies
have been given complete operational jurisdiction over this city.  That
means that your one and only duty from now until this situation has been
resolved is to cooperate with us and ensure that your people do likewise.
That is all."

   As abruptly as they had arrived, the feds left the room.  Denny and Tom
stared at each other for a minute before the Chief blew out a mouth full of
air and said quietly, "Well, they didn't say the words, but the city is now
under martial law.  They'll come to their senses eventually.  Federal
agents may be arrogant, but they aren't stupid.  In the meantime, I suggest
that you do what Roper told you to do.  I would hate to see you
indefinitely detained and confined."

   As Tom drove back to his apartment, he saw that there were already small
groups of soldiers, policemen and federal agents deploying throughout the
city.  Silently, he wished them luck.  Unless he missed his guess, they
would need it once night fell.

   A few blocks from his destination, he noticed a convenience store that
was still open; word of the new restrictions apparently hadn't spread
completely yet.  Tom stopped and bought a carton of cigarettes.

   Chapter 24

   Once back at his apartment, Tom had no idea what to do with himself. 
Part of him was relieved that all responsibility had been torn from his
shoulders, but, even more, he was worried that the feds, with their refusal
to accept the impossible truth, were really going to fuck things up and get
a lot of people killed.

   He rooted around in his kitchen drawers until he found a long abandoned
ashtray, and then, lighting a smoke, he settled on the couch to watch the
news.  The only thing new that he learned was that the feds weren't
implementing one plan, as Agent Roper had said, but a combination of two;
one designed for containment after a biological weapon attack and the other
designed to deal with a widespread dispersion of hallucinogenics, like PCP
or LSD.  Every federal authority that was interviewed persisted with the
view that this was merely the outbreak of a disease.

   Frustrated, Tom flicked the television off and unsealed and opened one
of his windows to peer outside.  It was obvious that the city's population
was attempting a mass exodus: every road in sight that could potentially
lead out of the city was jammed with cars, bikes, and pedestrians.  Even
from the great distance that lay between him and the first checkpoint, he
could hear the cries of anger and fear as all were turned back.  His vigil
was constantly interrupted by frequent telephone calls from friends and
coworkers who had heard of his ignominious suspension and wished to offer
words of sympathy.  He bore the first twenty or so with good humor, but,
eventually, was compelled to shut off his cell phone and turn the ringer
off on his land line.

   He watched his city devolve into chaos for more than an hour before he
could no longer bear it.  After resealing the window, he wandered back to
his bedroom to seek the comfort that Mia, even in her dormant state, could
offer.

   A number of hours later, his slumber was disturbed by a loud rapping at
his apartment door.  Grumbling, he rolled out of bed to go answer it.  He
was taken aback by the unexpected figure that greeted him when he pulled it
open.  He barely recognized her in jeans and a Pittsburgh PD t-shirt
instead of a uniform, and with her brunette hair, normally pulled tightly
back into a bun, falling in soft waves to her shoulders.

   "Hello, Dana," he greeted her, "I'm surprised to see you up and about."

   The pretty, young woman shifted nervously from foot to foot as she
timidly answered, "Hi, Tom.  The hospital discharged everyone who lives in
the city and isn't in critical condition to make room for the poor suckers
who got trapped here by our esteemed federal government.  Um, can I come
in?"

   Nonplused, Tom moved aside to allow her entrance.  He closed and locked
the door behind her and led her to the living room where he waved her
towards one of the chairs.

   "So, what brings you here?" he ventured.

   She was silent for a moment, and he could see a slight flush of
embarrassment appear on her face.  "I've always thought of myself as tough.
You have to be if you want to be a woman in blue.  But the other night, I
put a crossbow bolt right through that thing's throat and it didn't even
notice.  It just brushed me away like I was nothing more than a bug.  One
second I was fine and the next...  Well, I thought for sure I was going to
die." Dana's voice trailed off as she began to shiver.  Clutching her arms
tightly around her chest, she continued in a tiny voice, "I'm scared, Tom.
More afraid then I've ever been.  Even as a kid, I was never afraid of the
dark or monsters under the bed.  But now...  Now, I know that monsters are
real, and I just can't stop shaking.

   "I heard about what happened last night and I can see what's going on.
Every night the attacks get more daring, more vicious.  I have the feeling
that tonight is going to be bad.  All my family and friends live outside
the city and I don't want to be alone.  Not tonight.  I thought that the
safest place to be would be here, with Mia."

   Her eyes darted up to meet his and he could see them widen slightly as
she realized that she had made a possible faux pas.  "And you, of course,"
she added hastily.

   Tom couldn't help but laugh.  "It's ok, I would feel safer with Mia than
me, too," he replied reassuringly, "And, of course, you can stay here with
us."

   "Thanks, Tom," she said with a smile.

   Rising to his feet, Tom replied, "No problem.  Now, not to change the
subject, but I'm starving.  Shall I make enough for two?" Without waiting
for a response, he walked to the kitchen and began searching through his
fridge.

   "Sure, I could eat," Dana said as she rose to assist him.

   After they finished supper, which, thanks to Dana's help, was mostly
edible, Tom checked his watch and realized that the official sunset was
only minutes away.

   "Mia should be waking up pretty soon.  I'll be right back," he told
Dana.

   Tom was lying on his side next to Mia with his head propped up on a hand
when she came awake.  "Hey, you," he whispered softly as he leaned over to
give her a light kiss on the lips.

   "Hi," she replied with a strained smile.

   Rubbing a hand gently up and down her flank, Tom said worriedly, "I know
last night cost you a lot.  I had intended to call Peter today to get you
something to eat, but there's been a rather nasty development.  The feds
have closed off the city.  No one can get in or out.  I'm so sorry.  Are
you going to be ok?"

   "Yes, I'll be fine, but thanks for thinking about me," Mia replied, a
tinge of sorrow in her voice.  She was considering coming clean and telling
him that she had fed when his next words drove away all other thought.

   "Remember that woman you found in the Presidential Suite, the one that
was basically comatose?  Well, I truly hate to tell you this, but earlier
today she came to and said that it was Arthur who was responsible for all
that happened.  She said that he had left her alive to tell the world that
there were vampires among us, him in particular."

   Tom had known the news was bad, but he was still startled by the naked
fear that appeared on her face.  She flung herself into his arms and clung
to him fiercely.  For several minutes he held her close until her shivers
began to subside.

   Visibly steeling herself, Mia muttered into Tom's shoulder, "I knew he
had gone down too easily, but he can't still be alive.  The bond is gone! I
saw him die!  But...if he is, we have to go out and find him.  If we don't
fight..."

   "There are well armed men all over the city and they're the only ones
really allowed to be outside.  If we go out, we're just as likely to get
shot as he is," Tom interrupted, "As much as I hate to say it, we're
essentially prisoners in this apartment, at least for tonight.  Hopefully,
by tomorrow, they'll be ready to listen to reason."

   Mia sighed deeply, noticing as she did so that there was a hint of light
floral perfume in the air.  Pulling back from Tom's embrace, she asked, "Is
there someone else here?"

   "Oh.  Yeah.  I almost forgot.  Dana's out in the living room.  Poor
thing's scared to death and wanted to be near you in case things get ugly."

   Mia asked incredulously, "Me?"

   "That's what she said," Tom replied before adding mischievously, "I
guess that special moment the two of you shared made quite an impression on
her."

   Mia punched him lightly on the shoulder, "Pig.  Why don't you go keep
her company.  I'm going to take a quick shower and then I'll join you."

   Twenty minutes later, Mia, her hair hanging loose and damp around her
shoulders, walked into the living room in an oversized t-shirt and a pair
of Tom's sweat pants.  "I'm feeling a bit frumpy tonight," she said by way
of explanation when she saw Tom grin at her attire.

   Tom and Dana had unsealed and opened the living room window.  Tom sat on
the edge of the couch and peered out into the street, his crossbow loaded
and ready in his lap.  Dana sat nervously at the other end of the couch,
the scent of her fear mixing strangely with her flowery perfume.  Mia
greeted both with a hug and a smile.  As Mia plopped onto the couch between
them, the sound of automatic weapon fire echoed across the city.

   "I guess some of the escapees managed to find a place to hide for the
day," Tom commented glumly.

   For more than an hour, the three sat mostly in silence; the nearly
continuous crack of gunfire and the occasional scream forestalled any
potential conversation.  Tom and Dana had each taken one of Mia's hands,
their grips tightening each time the silence outside was broken.  A sudden
scream sounded from no farther than the end of the block.  Tom jumped up
and leaned out the window, bringing the crossbow to his shoulder as he
sought a target.  But, a dense fog shrouded the street and he could see
nothing through it.

   Dana twisted on the couch and buried her face in Mia's chest with a
whimper.  Mia looked down at the woman with astonishment; being perceived
as a source of comfort instead of fear felt decidedly odd.  Hesitantly, Mia
brought her arms up to encircle Dana, prompting the distraught woman to
clutch to Mia even more tightly.  It suddenly struck Mia just how young the
woman was; certainly no more than twenty or, maybe, a year older.  As Dana
continued to tremble in her arms, maternal instincts, which had never
before had the opportunity to be expressed, blossomed within Mia's chest.
She enfolded Dana more firmly into her embrace and laid her cheek upon the
top of the girl's head.  Mia whispered reassurances into the terrified
woman's ear and gently rubbed her back until Dana's shivers eased.

   Dana continued to press herself into Mia for a moment and then slowly
pulled back.  "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes averted in embarrassment.

   By way of response, Mia smiled softly and smoothed several wayward locks
of hair back from Dana's face with gentle fingers.  At Mia's touch, so
similar to that which Dana recalled from the time when she had laid wounded
on the wet, cold floor of the jail, the girl's brown eyes rose to meet
Mia's blue ones.

   Mia saw Dana's pupils dilate slightly before the girl darted forward to
press her lips lightly against Mia's.  Instantly, Dana retreated and peered
shyly at the other woman through lowered lashes.  When Mia made no
objection, Dana again brought her mouth to Mia's, moving much slower this
time, her lips parting slightly as she drew near.

   Mia returned the kiss gently while lightly probing Dana's surface
thoughts.  She discovered that the girl was reeling from witnessing so much
death over such a short period of time and from coming so close to that
state herself.  This overture was, at least in part, an act of defiance
against all that the girl had experienced in the past few days; a
refutation of death and an affirmation of life.  Mia also learned that,
ever since she had preserved the girl's life, Dana had come to see her as a
guardian; a bastion of safety in a world that had suddenly gone mad. 
Lastly, Mia learned that Dana had become fixated on the pleasure she had
experienced at the touch of Mia's tongue and the passion of the subsequent
kiss.  Dana believed that both were the product of some deep emotional tie
that she hadn't been able to acknowledge until that moment.  This belief
was so central to the girl's tenuous efforts to keep the overwhelming
terror she felt at bay, that Mia couldn't bring herself to disillusion her,
to tell her that it had only been a biochemical reaction initiated by a
property of vampiric saliva.  Mia also couldn't bring herself to refuse to
give Dana what she wanted.  As Dana's tongue brushed softly over her lips,
Mia admitted to herself that, even if she could, she wouldn't want to.

   Their kisses grew longer and more heated.  Dana shifted until she was
straddling Mia's hips.  As their tongues intertwined, Mia peeked over at
Tom out of the corner of her eye.  He was staring at them with open mouthed
astonishment.  His crossbow hung limply at his side, whatever lurked beyond
the window long forgotten.  The scent of his lust was so strong that Mia
had to suppress a giggle.  Mia again probed into Dana's mind and discovered
that she found Tom attractive, albeit a little old.  The attraction was
strong enough that she wouldn't object to his participation.

   Mia felt Dana's hand run lightly up her side before coming to rest
cupping one of her breasts.  Without breaking the kiss, Mia slid her hands
down to cup Dana's muscular buttocks and then stood.  Dana wrapped her legs
around Mia's waist as she was carried back to the bedroom.  Just before
they vanished from sight, Mia broke the kiss for an instant to beckon Tom
to follow with a wink and a small jerk of her head.  Again she had to
suppress a giggle at the look of eagerness that appeared on his face.

   Mia put Dana on her feet at the side of the bed and the two feverishly
pulled the clothes from the other's body, breaking their kiss only to pull
the shirts off over their heads.  Once they were nude, Mia eased Dana down
to the bed.  Dana sighed and cooed as Mia licked and nibbled her way down
the girl's body, lingering for a long moment on the small breasts and the
hard, brown nipples that capped them.  As Mia resumed her descent, kissing
a path down Dana's toned stomach, the girl parted her legs widely in eager
anticipation.

   When Mia reached the juncture of Dana's thighs, she regarded the girl's
sex with avid interest.  It was absolutely beautiful, Mia decided, with
thick, puffy labial lips that were the lightest shade of pink at the edges
but grew darker in color closer to the center.  At the top, the tiniest
button of a clit, an even lighter shade of pink than the edges of the
labia, peaked ever-so-slightly from its hood.  The lips were parted with
arousal and the whole glistened wetly.  The scent of the girl's excitement
was strong in the air, and Mia could feel herself growing increasingly
moist in response.

   Experimentally, Mia ran her tongue between the lips of Dana's pussy,
getting her first taste of this part of another woman.  To her delight,
Dana was delicious.  With a soft moan, Mia dove in with wild abandon,
licking and sucking the juices from the lips before delving her tongue deep
inside Dana's tight tunnel.  Dana threw back her head with a guttural moan
as Mia's tongue grew within her, filling her as completely as any cock she
had ever experienced.  Except that a cock had never wriggled around in her
depths, lovingly caressing every inner surface, ridge and fold.

   As Mia continued to plumb Dana's depths, she felt Tom's hands on her
hips, urging her upwards.  She eagerly complied and was rewarded by the
touch of his tongue and lips to her clit.  After Dana had moaned her way
through several orgasms, her tight pussy squeezing tightly down on the
tongue that penetrated her so completely, Mia changed her tongue back to
normal size and crawled up Dana's body.  On the way, she reveled in the
sensuous feeling of a woman's soft skin sliding against her own.  When Mia
reached her destination, Dana fervently pressed her lips to Mia's, her
tongue darting out to lap her own juices from Mia's face.

   The kiss went on and on, until Dana pulled back.  Panting with lust, she
whispered, "I want to taste you now."

   At the other woman's urging, Mia willingly rolled over onto her back. 
As Dana started to follow Mia's lead by kissing her way down Mia's body,
Mia stopped her with a gentle touch



   "Turn around the other way, so I can keep tasting you," she murmured.

   Her eyes gleaming with excitement, Dana quickly straddled Mia's head and
then leaned forward.  She ran her finger up and down the length of Mia's
slit a few times, marveling at the incredibly silky smooth feel of the
other woman's sex, before lowering her head to take Mia's clit between her
lips.  Unlike Mia, this was not the first time that Dana had tasted the
essence of another woman, but familiarity did not diminish her enjoyment.

   Mia peeked over the firm, tight globes of Dana's ass cheeks and saw that
Tom, now naked, was sitting on the edge of the bed watching the scene with
lust glazed eyes.  It was obvious that he wanted to join in, but, at the
same time, didn't want to disturb the erotic visage before him.  She
beckoned him with a finger and, when he leaned close, curled a hand around
his neck to pull him in for a kiss.  She then gently guided his head until
he was facing Dana's dripping sex.

   "Isn't she beautiful?" Mia whispered.

   "Mmmhmmm," Tom replied blissfully.

   "Taste her," Mia commanded softly.

   Tom eased his head forward until he could run his tongue between the
soft, swollen lips of Dana's pussy, lapping up the copious juices.

   "Isn't she delicious?" Mia asked, before hastily adding, "Don't answer,
just keep licking."

   As Tom eagerly complied, Mia again caused her tongue to lengthen until
she could reach Dana's clit with the tip.  She flicked her tongue rapidly
but lightly over the tiny button as Tom continued to lap at Dana's lips and
swirl his tongue just inside the entrance of her pussy.  Under their dual
assault, Dana quivered and shook continuously, loudly moaning out in
pleasure.  When the girl could take no more, Tom disengaged and twisted his
head until he could suck the end of Mia's tongue into his mouth.  He
continued to suck gently as Mia reversed the change, following the
shortening appendage down until his lips met hers.

   Mia kissed him passionately for a moment, and then breathily instructed,
"Give it to her.  She needs it." With a languorous smile she added, "But
you better save some for me."

   Tom straightened and positioned himself behind the girl, straddling
Mia's head.  He watched as Mia slowly pumped two fingers deeply into Dana's
pussy.  She withdrew them slowly and spread them, opening Dana's lips wide
to obscenely expose the wet, pink entrance at their center.  With her other
hand, she grasped Tom's throbbing erection and guided it forward until the
head vanished between the widely splayed lips.

   Mia withdrew her hands and ran them along the outside of Tom's thighs to
his ass.  There, she applied gentle pressure, urging him forward.  Tom
needed no such encouragement.  With a deep sigh of pleasure, he drove
slowly but relentlessly into the incredibly tight, hot depths of Dana's
cunt until his loins met the prettily upthrust cheeks of her ass.  He held
himself there for a few seconds, and then quickly settled into a steady
rhythm.

   Dana threw her head back with a groan.  "Oh God!" she cried out, "I
haven't had a cock in so long!  Fuck me harder!  Deeper!"

   From below the point of their union, Mia watched excitedly as her
lover's member plunged rapidly in and out of Dana's clenching tunnel.  For
the third time that night, she caused her tongue to change and it snaked
out to alternately flick over Dana's clit and curl around the place of
their joining to collect the sweet mixture of Dana's juices and Tom's
pre-seminal fluid.  After each such foray, she pulled her tongue back into
her mouth to suck it clean

   This continued for quite some time, until Mia's eyes widened as a
naughty idea occurred to her.  As her tongue curled again around Dana's
labial lips and the base of Tom's cock, it suddenly grew thinner, wider and
longer and then dove into the girl along the underside of Tom's manhood. 
Mia's tongue rippled continuously with change as she varied its length to
move it in and out of Dana's pussy in counterpoint to Tom's thrusts.  Tom
moaned deeply as Mia's tongue squeezed into the already tight tunnel below
his driving length, its tip flicking up over the head of his cock each time
the two passed each other in Dana's depths.  Dana's head came up as she let
out a delighted squeal.  Her tunnel immediately began to contract
rhythmically around the two invaders as she was lost in the throes of yet
another orgasm.

   It took only a few minutes of this before Mia felt Tom's cock seemingly
become harder along the top of her tongue and saw his balls tighten. 
Seconds later, Tom erupted, shooting spurt after spurt of his hot seed deep
inside Dana's quivering body.  Panting, he gripped the girl's hips tightly
as he held himself motionless in her depths.  Small shivers passed through
his body as Mia's tongue continued to slide up and down the underside of
his hypersensitized cock.

   With a deep contented sigh, he finally withdrew and collapsed on the bed
alongside Mia.  The second he was free, Mia raised her head to bring her
lips to Dana's pussy.  Her elongated tongue continued to plumb the girl's
depths, lapping up her lover's cum.  When she, too, withdrew, Dana, no
longer burdened by distractions, returned to her own task with a vengeance,
sucking lightly on Mia's clit while driving a finger deeply into Mia's wet
pussy.  It was only a matter of minutes before Mia cried out with her own
release.

   Dana turned around and lowered herself to the bed on the opposite side
of Mia from Tom.  "Wow," she said dreamily, "that was one of the weirdest
and best things that I have ever felt."



   The trio rested for a few minutes while enjoying a soft three way kiss
and then Mia pushed Tom over onto his back.  She lowered her head to his
hips and took his mostly soft cock into her mouth, savoring the flavor of
the juices that still coated it even as she did her best to bring it back
to life.  With a light giggle, Dana crawled over to assist her by flicking
the end of her tongue over his balls.  Their efforts soon paid off and Mia
felt his manhood become longer, thicker and harder until it filled her
mouth.

   Mia popped Tom's cock from her mouth with a final wet slurp and
swivelled around to mount him.  Dana scrambled out of the way to give Mia
room.  Once Mia had her lover's cock buried deeply within her, Dana slid
back in close to suck on Mia's nipples and gently rub a finger around her
clit.

   Mia rode Tom long and slow.  With Dana's eager assistance, her body had
quivered through several drawn out orgasms before she felt liquid warmth
splashing against the walls of her pussy as Tom reached his climax.  She
laid down on top of him, her eyes twinkling with merriment at the look of
exhausted ecstacy on his face.  They kissed deeply for a moment before they
each extended an arm to Dana to invite her to join in their embrace.  The
three cuddled and caressed each other laguidly until Mia rolled off of Tom
and onto her back.  With a deep sigh of contentment, she wrapped an arm
loosely around each of her lovers as they nestled up against her from
either side.

   Chapter 25

   Arthur came awake with a shudder.  The throbbing of his head and the
malaise that gripped his body brought back dim recollections of the
hangovers he had suffered as a mortal.  He had nearly made a grievous error
the previous night.  The emotional feedback from his bond to hundreds of
ferals had very nearly overwhelmed him.  In fact, he almost certainly would
have succumbed to the rage, hate and, above all else, hunger that had beat
relentlessly at his mind, if the ferals had not started to die off rapidly.
Such a complete loss of control, the extinction of intellect and reason,
could have been more than simply dangerous.  Even now he could feel that
rage, that hunger, begin to pulse anew as his remaining ferals rose to hunt
again.  They were mercifully few now, certainly well less than a hundred.
This he could endure.

   Throwing back the tarp that now served as his final protection against
the sun, he pushed himself shakily from the dingy basement floor.  He
decided that he would soon need to replace the caskets that had been lost
in the aftermath of his first battle with the authorities; his current
sleeping arrangements were...undignified.

   With something akin to guilt, Arthur examined his bond to Alicia which
revealed that she, much like himself, was experiencing some pain and that
she was desperately struggling to resist the primal emotions which were
even now assailing her rational mind.  Last night, his fledgling had not
been strong enough to resist the seductive call of the ferals and had
reverted to a primitive beast-like state.  Keeping her under control while
fighting tenaciously to hold on to his own sanity had proven to be most
difficult.

   He pulled the tarp back from her body, but she continued to lie
motionless, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.  He stood gazing at her for a
long moment.  She had again pleasantly surprised him during the carnage of
the night before.  It seemed that she enjoyed causing pain even more than
receiving it.  Even he had been impressed with the imaginative ways in
which she had inflicted suffering upon their victims in the exceedingly
short time that they could spare on any single individual.

   Finally, he bent to brush the hair back from her face with a gentle
finger, "Alicia?"

   With a whimper, she whined, "I can still feel them, Master.  I don't
want to lose myself again."

   Unexpectedly, pity welled up from some long forgotten corner of Arthur's
soul.  "Sit up, child," he told her softly as he lowered himself to sit on
the floor next to her.  "I want you to focus on a single knot of emotions
to the exclusion of all else and then repeat after me."

   Over the next hour, he guided her repeatedly through the cantrip with
which Kei had gifted him until Alicia had passed the bonds of forty ferals
to him.  Gritting his teeth against the added strain to his psyche, he
cursed Kei under his breath for not passing him the knowledge to simply
release a fledgling from the bond.



   Refocusing his thoughts on Alicia, he asked, "Is that better?"

   "Yes, Master.  Thank you," she replied.  The rush of gratitude and
devotion that coursed through the bond between them threatened to overwhelm
him as all of the rage and hate of the ferals could not.

   "Good," he answered cooly as he rose rapidly to his feet, "lets go
upstairs and find out how our efforts have paid off."

   The mercenaries had thoughtfully recorded various portions of the day's
news that they thought he would find interesting.  Arthur delighted at the
helicopter views of the traffic snarls caused by thousands of people trying
to flee the city only to be turned back to their homes or, in the case of
the unfortunate commuters, the temporary shelters being provided by
churches, hotels, universities and hospitals.  He rejoiced at the video
clips of his ferals wreaking havoc at the hotel.  He noted with glee that,
despite the official assurances that a disease was the root of the problem,
every clip he watched had variations of the words, "Vampires in
Pittsburgh?" prominently displayed at the bottom of the screen.

   After he had watched the recorded excerpts several times over, he
decided that it was time to add to the terror that gripped the city.  As he
stood to leave, he gave Alicia's shoulder a light squeeze, "I think it
would be best for you to stay here tonight, Alicia.  You have more than
earned a night of respite."

   After she nodded her acceptance, he exited the house.  The moment he set
foot outside, he was able to feel the change that he had wrought: the
entire city reeked of fear, the heady aroma penetrated every building,
every street, and every alleyway.  He could almost see the miasma of terror
that hung over the city like a black cloud.

   Scanning quickly through the bonds to the ferals, he chose one that
seemed relatively close by.  He moved quickly in its direction, avoiding
the occasional masses of policemen, federal agents and soldiers with
contemptuous ease.  Within minutes, he located his target.  Using the
skills he had perfected several nights before, he brought the beast under
control and led it into a dark alley.  There he foisted the bonds of its
kindred onto it until he could bear those that remained without strain.  He
then released the creature, its fury and hunger now magnified many times
over, with a simple command to kill.

   Hearing a fresh burst of gunfire erupt in the distance, Arthur decided
that it would only be right to even the playing field a bit.  Pushing
himself to the limit of his supernatural speed, he ran to the bank of the
Allegheny river and then turned to follow the waterway to the point.  All
along his route the moisture in the air and on the surface of the river
coalesced into a dense fog which rolled into the city in waves.  Rounding
the point where the three rivers met, he journeyed up the Mon and repeated
the process.  By the time he had finished, screams had joined the gunfire
in a mad cacophony.  Arthur sprinted toward the towering skyscrapers to
join the ferals in the hunt.

   After night had fallen across the city, Agent Frederick Roper began to
doubt his own sanity.  First, shortly after he had stopped to inspect the
mix of National Guard soldiers and city police officers that manned a
checkpoint by the PPG towers, eight people emerged from a manhole leading
to the sewers half a block from the checkpoint.  The moment that they were
free of the sewers, they had sniffed at the air for a minute before
charging directly at Roper's little force.  They refused to respond to
shouts demanding that they stand their ground and identify themselves. 
Roper sent two of the guardsmen forward to block their path.  The eight
fell upon the two like a pack of hungry wolves.

   Roper and his team immediately brought their M-16's to bear and mowed
down the eight in a blaze of gunfire.  Before any of his men could get
close enough to the bodies to check them for identification or life signs,
all eight rose to their feet and resumed their charge.  Again, Roper and
his men cut them down.  And again they rose.  And again.  And again.  Agent
Roper ordered his men to switch their rifles from burst mode to single
shot. While four clips each had seemed an unnecessary extravagance in the
light of day, it was obviously not going to be enough.

   Then tendrils of fog began to snake across the street, even though there
had been no rain in days and the night was clear and cool.  Agent Roper
looked in the direction from which the wisps had come and was astonished to
see a massive wall of dense, white mist bearing down on his location.  It
flowed rapidly around the base of the shining glass tower of the PPG
building that anchored one end of the checkpoint.  Seconds later, Roper was
engulfed in its clammy embrace, his visibility reduced to mere feet.

   The men tensed, their eyes desperately searching through the mist for
the eight people that they had cut down so many times and who, they knew,
would rise again.

   Suddenly a cultured voice emanated from the depths of the mist behind
them, "Trouble, gentlemen?"

   As one, Roper and his men spun about and raised their guns, now
searching as desperately, and as futilely, for the speaker as they had for
the eight people who wouldn't die.

   "Now, now, that's hardly necessary," the voice said from the mist,
"Private Xavier knows who I am.  Don't you Private Xavier?"

   Roper switched his attention to the guardsman that the voice had named
and found the young man staring out into the fog, his face slack.  His eyes
unfocused, Xavier slowly turned to the side, his weapon still raised.  As
Roper watched in disbelief, the soldier switched his weapon to full
automatic and emptied his clip into the two men standing next to him.

   Roper cried out in warning as eight figures appeared from the mist,
falling on the men from behind.  Screams, many cut off short, rent the
night as hands and impossibly long teeth tore at defenseless flesh.  Roper
backed away from the wild melee, firing his weapon each time he could
discern a target.

   Sensing a presence behind him, the panic stricken agent spun to face it.
A hand grabbed the hot barrel of his rifle and tore the weapon from his
grasp.  The M -16 vanished into the fog as the figure threw it casually to
the side.  The metallic clatter that it made when it skittered across the
unseen pavement momentarily drowned out the wet sucking noises that came
from the fog where the checkpoint used to be.

   The figure latched onto the lapels of Roper's suit and pulled him close.
Roper found himself staring into narrowed eyes as black and cold as death
itself.

   With a humorless chuckle that pulled lips back from the teeth of a
predator, the figure said dryly, "So, Agent Roper of the FBI, do you still
think that I suffer from a disease?"

   The man lifted Roper from his feet and hurled him through the air.  The
agent lay stunned from his impact with the unyielding asphalt of the
street, but soon scrambled to his feet with a whimper of fear.  He ran
blindly into the damp, cold mist as mocking laughter echoed around him.

   "Run, rabbit!  Run!" the monster's voice called after him.

   Roper ran frantically through the fog shrouded city, his progress
impaired by frequent collisions with mailboxes, street posts and parking
meters that popped out of the mist in front of him.  He tried to gain
entrance to the relative safety of a number of buildings, but they were all
locked tight in conformance with the restrictions that he had imposed. 
Wherever he went, the mocking laughter stayed with him.  It sometimes came
from behind him, but, just as often, came from the sides or even from
ahead. Each time the laughter rang out, Roper put his back toward its
apparent source and ran onwards.  He was soon completely disoriented.  He
knew he was being herded, but saw no alternative.

   He had just made one such turn when he slipped and fell to the pavement.
Lifting his head from the warm, sticky puddle into which he had fallen, he
looked with dismay into the pale, lifeless face of a soldier who laid
sprawled over a curb.  As Roper pulled himself to his knees, he could dimly
see other figures through the mist.  None of them moved.  Working more by
touch than sight, he searched among the dead until he found a weapon and
several clips of ammunition.

   Heartened by the feel of steel in his hands, Roper tried to pick
familiar landmarks out of the mist in an attempt to get his bearings.  He
followed the curb to an intersection where he drew his face close enough to
the street sign to make out the words.  He was on Liberty Avenue near the
point.  If he followed the street for a few blocks, he would reach the
city's federal building and the strongest of the checkpoints.

   He had just set out at a quick jog when a tremendous impact from behind
threw him to the sidewalk.  He turned onto his back to see the man stride
out of the fog.  With a slight chuckle, the man picked up Roper's newly
acquired weapon and, after holding it for mere seconds, tossed it down
close to the agent's feet.  The man then stepped backwards and vanished
again into the mist.

   Roper snatched the rifle from the ground and pointed it in the direction
that the monster had taken.  It was then that he noticed the damage. 
Bewildered, he pulled the weapon close to his face so that he could see it
clearly through the mist.  Just forward of the front sight, the barrel had
been crimped as if pinched between finger and thumb.

   As the mocking laughter again rang out behind him, Roper cast the ruined
weapon aside and resumed running up Liberty Avenue.  This time he refused
to be herded, keeping to his course no matter which direction the laughter
came from.  He had not heard any sound from the monster for several minutes
when the flashing yellow lights of the checkpoint's barricade appeared out
of the fog in front of him.  Panting with exertion from the run and almost
sobbing with relief, Roper came to a stop in front of the group of men that
huddled closely together around one of the lights.

   As soon as he appeared, they clustered around him, showering him with
questions.  Did he know where they were?  How had they gotten here?  What
were they supposed to be doing?  As he gaped at them in confusion, a hand
tipped with razor sharp claws burst from the chest of the man in front of
him in a fountain of blood and gore.  Roper stumbled back, but had only
made it a few steps when the last of the men from the checkpoint fell
limply to the ground with a soft thump.  Roper turned to run again, but a
hand grabbed the back of his coat between his shoulders, bringing him to an
immediate stop.  He struggled to wriggle free of the jacket.

   "No, Agent Roper of the FBI," the voice said softly from just behind his
shoulder, "there will be no more running.  You have been amusing prey, but
every hunt must come to an end."

   Roper felt the intense pain of overly sharp teeth sinking into his
throat followed by pleasure as intense as he had ever known.  And then
there was only the darkness.

   As the agent's body fell bonelessly to the damp street, Arthur cackled
gleefully.  He couldn't recall the last time he had so thoroughly enjoyed
himself.

   During the time that he had hunted the agent, he had discovered several
shelters for nonresidents who had been trapped in the city by the federal
lockdown.  Absently straightening his tie, he strode off into the fog in
the direction of the church that housed the nearest.



   Chapter 26



   Mia held her two lovers closely to her chest until they each began to
breathe deeply in contented sleep, their fears now forgotten.  Caressing
their minds with her will to insure that their sleep would not be
disturbed, she wriggled her way out from between them.  She quickly dressed
and then leaned back over the bed to plant a lingering kiss on Tom's lips
and a fond peck on Dana's forehead.

   As she stood gazing at them, guilt flooded through her.  Guilt of such
magnitude that it brought tears to her eyes.  They trusted her so
completely and, all night, Tom's mind had practically glowed with his love
for her.  But she had betrayed that trust and love by taking a human life.
Her conscience demanded an act of contrition.  While she knew that she
could never truly redeem herself after what she had done, perhaps she could
shift the karmic balance back to a state with which she could live. 
Protecting innocents from the ferals that hunted them would, at least, be a
step in the right direction.

   She walked to the living room and peered out the window into the night.
The fog had mostly dissipated but an occasional scream still broke the
silence of the city besieged by fear.  Tom had been right about one thing:
had all three of them gone out, her companions would quite likely have been
quickly apprehended and detained.  Alone she would have no such
difficulties.

   Pushing her awareness out into dark streets, she made certain that there
was no immediate threat to the two people slumbering in the other room and
then silently eased out the window and dropped to the ground far below. 
Striding to one of the neighboring houses, she broke several posts off from
the white picket fence, adding to the damage she had done the night that
she had asked Tom to kill her and he had taken her in instead.

   She loped through the city streets, hunting the hunters.  There were
dozens of packs, numbering anywhere from five to twenty, running openly and
unchecked through the vacant streets.  They ran hunched over, sometimes
using their hands to help push them along in an ungainly lumber.  Their
heads were raised to both take in the fear scent that pervaded the city and
to seek the smell of fresh victims.  Guilt driving her, Mia moved to
intercept all that she encountered.  This was nothing like the close
quarter fighting in the hotel hallways.  In the open, her speed far
outmatched that of her prey and feral after feral fell before they could
even react to her sudden presence.  Her trail was soon littered with bodies
that had already been dead for anywhere from a few hours to a day, but
would now rest in peace.

   She quickly learned that Tom and Dana would actually have had nothing to
fear from the checkpoints; every one that she came across in the vicinity
of downtown Pittsburgh was the site of a massacre.  The horribly disfigured
and often disemboweled bodies of those who had manned the barricades were
strewn about the streets and sidewalks in slicks and puddles of blood.  A
few had even been draped over the tops of street lights so as to throw
immense and horrifying shadows across the front of nearby buildings.  Any
remaining doubts she had concerning Arthur's continued existence were
dispelled by the gruesome displays.  In her experience, only he could be so
wantonly and unnecessarily cruel.

   Surprisingly few of the bodies she found had been drained and the crude
injuries inflicted on most of those who were hinted that they were the work
of ferals.  Nevertheless, she snapped the neck of any body that was not
already injured in that manner to make certain that none would rise.

   She had been wondering why no one had come to relieve the unfortunate
men at the checkpoints.  Her questions were answered when she ran by the
city-county building.  It was apparent that those who were to take the
second shift at the barricades had assembled there for assignment and
transportation.  The bodies were piled deep.

   There, she also found, for the first time that night, evidence of
successful mortal resistance to the onslaught of the undead.  At least ten
ferals, their fanged mouths gaping open in true and final death, laid among
the fallen, their bodies riddled with arrows.  Some of Tom's men must have
been there and had come prepared for what they knew prowled the night.  In
an effort to find out if they had survived, she searched among the dead for
bodies armed with bows.

   She sensed the arrow speeding toward her well before it arrived. 
Reflexively, her hand darted up to catch the wooden shaft a foot behind the
crudely whittled point.  Rather than move close enough for the shooter to
be able to identify her as friendly, and risk having another shot taken at
her in the process, Mia chose to move on.

   After a few blocks, she came across a large stone church.  A crude sign,
hastily lettered in black magic marker, proclaimed the place to be a
shelter for those trapped in the city by the quarantine effort.  The large,
beautifully carved wooden doors to the place were burst asunder, and the
men and women who had manned the checkpoint on the adjacent street had been
slaughtered.

   She was sickened by the sight that greeted her when she entered the
nave. Behind the pulpit, a large wooden cross was suspended from the
cathedral ceiling by several cables.  A priest had been impaled face down
at the top.  His neck was broken and his head had been pulled back so that
he seemed to be staring at the entrance.  As she drew closer, she could see
the deep gouges that had been made in the wood of the lower part of the
cross when the perpetrator of this vile act had used claws to climb to the
top.

   A hasty search revealed a door that led down into the church's basement
in one of the transepts.  Descending, she found several large rooms that
had been lined with cots for the refugees.  In the windowless basement,
Arthur, for this could only have been his work, had departed from the
practice she had observed in the streets.  Nearly every body was drained
but otherwise uninjured.  From what she could tell, the unarmed mortals had
cowered back against the walls when Arthur had appeared at the only exit to
what had then become their prison.  He must have used compulsion to make
them come to him, one by one, to be drained while the others watched.  The
massive pool of blood at the base of the stairs showed that he had filled
and then emptied himself many times over.  The rooms absolutely reeked of
fear, the scent so strong that she could feel her fangs descend from her
upper jaw in instinctive reaction.

   This atrocity had been committed recently enough that the Change would
not yet have started; a wooden stake was not needed.  She moved from body
to body and snapped the victims' necks, wincing as she discovered that
several of them were mere children.  By the time she was through, she was
weeping, her mind a tumultuous mix of rage, horror, grief and hunger.

   When she emerged from the church, she could feel that the sun would be
rising soon, although the sky had not yet begun to brighten.  She hesitated
with indecision.  Arthur could well be nearby and, in her rage, she wanted
nothing less than to confront him to make him pay for what he had done. 
But reason prevailed; she had no illusions that she would pose any more of
a threat to him than a single feral did to her.  She sped back across the
city to the building that housed Tom's apartment .  With a quick exercise
of will, she purged her clothing of the dried blood that saturated it and
then changed her hands, arms and feet to allow her to scale the side of the
building to his living room window.

   Once inside, she resealed the window and ran to the bedroom.  Not
bothering to undress, she wriggled her way back between Tom and Dana and
then hugged them tightly to her.  The comfort of their presence served as a
bulwark against the horrific and grisly images from her outing that still
continued to haunt her.  Nevertheless, when the sun rose above the horizon,
and her body shook before becoming unnaturally still, her cheeks were shiny
with fresh tears.










   

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