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Message-ID: <59079asstr$1244232682@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Dreadpirate Tom <dptom@live.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Revised: Blood Lust ch. 1-18 (MF, MFF, sad, tort, vampires, viol, caution, nc)
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Date: Fri, 05 Jun 2009 16:11:22 -0400
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<1st attachment, "blood lust complete and revised.txt" begin>

Author's note: This story contains graphic depictions of sex and violence,
often combined.  In an effort to convey the savage and sadistic nature of
one of the main characters, there are scenes in which he performs some
truly heinous acts.  Those who are offended by descriptions of acts of
wanton cruelty should definitely move on to something else.  If, on the
other hand, such things don't especially bother you, I hope you enjoy.

   Blood Lust

   By Dread Pirate Tom

   Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

   He couldn't hear it over the music, but he saw that she was laughing
lightly.  Defeated, he turned to leave.  His retreat was halted when she
grabbed his tie directly below the knot.  Pulling him in closer, the beauty
in the red dress leaned forward to place her lips near his ear.  The feel
of her breath on his skin sent shivers of ecstasy running up and down his
spine.  He suddenly realized that she was speaking and struggled to get
enough of a hold on himself to understand.

   "That wasn't the best effort that I've ever heard," she whispered, "but
you're the only man in the place who has shown any interest tonight.  How
would you like to dance, stud?"

   He could only nod numbly in response.  With another laugh, she turned
and, still gripping Larry's tie like a leash, strutted back towards the
dance floor, pulling him along in her wake.  Larry followed her willingly,
eagerly.  Despite all of his efforts, he couldn't pull his eyes from her
gently swaying hips.  She finally drew to a halt near the place where he
had first seen her.  She turned and caught the direction of his gaze.

   Bringing her lips to his ear, she asked in a sultry voice, "Were you
looking at my ass, Larry?"

   He struggled to recall when he had told her his name, but quickly gave
up.  What did it matter?  He stammered, "I'm sorry..."

   She stopped his fumbled apology by placing a soft, smooth finger across
his lips.  "It's ok, Larry," she whispered, her soft exhalation caressing
his ear lobe, "I'm glad you like it."

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

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

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

   Once outside, they climbed into one of the numerous cabs that waited in
front of the popular night spot.  Before Larry could ask the age old
question, the woman in red pressed herself to him and, with a kiss, said,
"Lets go to your place, lover.  My roommate's home and a bit of a prude."

   The touch of her cool, sensuous lips against his kept Larry from
responding for a moment, but he finally gave the cabby his address.  The
trip passed in a blur for Larry, who was lost in the feeling of soft, cool
lips pressing to his over and over again.

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

   Retreating slightly, Larry panted for breath and said, "I don't even
know your name..."

   The woman laughed and pulled him fully back into her embrace,
whispering, "What's in a name?"

   Then they were in his bedroom.  The woman grew frustrated with the
remaining buttons on his shirt and tore it from him, the offending
fasteners flying across the room in all directions.  She then made quick
work of his belt and pants.  When he stood naked in front of her, the woman
placed a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards onto the bed.

   The woman turned her back to Larry's reclined form and began to roll her
hips gently from side to side.  Reaching down she took the hem of her dress
in her hands and worked it slowly upwards, inch by inch.  Larry gasped as
her perfect ass came into view; he had been right about the lack of
undergarments.  Flicking his eyes upwards, he saw that she was watching him
over her shoulder, a coy smile on her full lips.  She finished pulling the
dress above her head and stood before him nude.  After turning around
slowly to give him time to admire her form, she crawled onto the bed,
straddling Larry's supine form.

   She bent down and kissed him passionately before whispering in his ear,
"No foreplay tonight, baby.  I want to feel you inside me."

   Before Larry could respond, he felt cool, tight, wet velvet enclose his
throbbing cock.  She sat up on him, and Larry took in the sight of his cock
buried fully in her smooth shaven sex.  Suddenly he felt the muscles of her
channel began to rhythmically tighten and release all around his turgid
length.  As he threw his head back in ecstasy, he felt her begin to raise
and lower herself on his shaft without interrupting the delicious internal
contractions.

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

   Without warning, he felt a brief but intense stab of pain from his neck
and then he was climaxing again, thrusting his hips convulsively up into
her.  Panicking, he cried out and struggled desperately to free himself,
but she held him down with ease.  As the strength seemed to flow from his
body, his struggles subsided and then ceased altogether.

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

   She bent down and kissed his lips a final time.  "Sorry, Larry," she
whispered, "I'm sure that this is one price you wouldn't have been willing
to pay." There was true regret in her voice.  Rolling off of him with a
sigh, she stood and pulled the dress down over her body.

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

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

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

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

   Recalling a large curtain in the living room, she drew it to the side
and was rewarded by the sight of a small balcony.  This ready means of
escape would allow her to enhance the illusion of natural death.  Striding
back to the front door, she made sure that all three locks were secure and
then fastened the chain.

   Putting her back to the door, she tried to think of anything she might
have missed.  There were a ridiculous number of people who had seen her
leave the nightclub with Larry.  She had erased the event from the memories
of several club goers, but there had been far too many people to blur them
all.  There was also the cab driver who had brought them here.  She had
been so lost to the hunger, so absorbed with the imminent feeding, that it
hadn't even occurred to her to alter his recollections.

   She suppressed a sudden surge of fear.  Her kind had but one true law:
do not allow mortals to discover their existence.  She may have come
entirely too close to breaking that law tonight.  She had been told by her
Master that any who violated this commandment would feel the wrath of all
of their kind.  Other than her Master, she had never met another vampire,
but the thought of the punishment that he alone could bring down upon her
head was enough to send a shiver up her spine.

   As she considered her Master, her lingering fears were consumed by a
surge of hatred and loathing.  She could feel him in her mind even now,
like a small knot of emotion on the fringes of her consciousness. 
Amusement drifted across the surface of that knot like oil on a pond,
letting her know that he was aware of the turmoil of her emotions and found
her inability to control them funny.  As her hatred grew, so did the
amusement emanating from the knot, such was his contempt for her.

   Gritting her teeth, she pushed the thoughts of her Master aside.  She
went out on the terrace and looked down.  At this time of night, there were
still plenty of people on the streets and someone would surely notice if
she made the ten story leap to the sidewalk.  She would need to take
another route.  She stood motionless for a moment, her eyes closed in
concentration, her will focused inward.  She was so absorbed in this
exercise that she didn't notice when a few drops of Larry's seed fell from
between her thighs to the floor of the balcony.

   In response to her exercise of will, the skin on her forearms, hands and
feet rippled and changed, shooting forth countless numbers of nearly
microscopic hooks, much like those on the feet of a gecko.  Once the change
was complete, she quickly scrambled up the side of the concrete building
and then leapt from rooftop to rooftop until she was blocks from the site
of her feeding.  When she finally located an alley with no pedestrian
traffic, she jumped to the pavement, her knees bending only slightly to
absorb the six story fall.  After peering around the alley intently to
ensure that there were no witnesses, she prepared to run the remaining
distance to her home.

   Suddenly, her eyes narrowed maliciously.  On second thought, she would
take a cab home.  Still wearing the same red dress that she had worn to the
nightclub, the dress that hundreds of witnesses had seen.  There would be
no tampering with the driver's memory.  The bond that had formed when her
Master had given her the so called Gift prevented her from acting directly
to bring about his end or even her own, but even in such a bond there was
room to act if she were careful.  Even this small act of reckless rebellion
caused her to double over in pain, but some things were worth suffering
for. Clenching her teeth, she walked slowly to a busier street and hailed a
cab.

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

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

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

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

   "And you are certain you left no trace?"

   Her voice dripping with sarcasm, Mia answered, "No, Master.  I led the
police straight to our door." She clamped down on the pain that shot
through her body at the half lie, trying to let as little of it flow
through the bond as possible.  She saw his face harden and knew that she
was about to pay the price for allowing her feelings for him to show.

   "I do not care for your tone, Bergthora," he murmured.  Mia winced at
the sound of her original, given name.  That he used it was a sure sign of
his displeasure.

   Leaning slightly against the back of the couch, he continued in a calm,
lecturing voice, "There was once a great man who considered the question of
whether it is better to have those you rule love you or fear you.  He
concluded - hmmm, how did he phrase it?  Oh, yes, now I recall - 'it would
be best to be both loved and feared.  But since the two rarely come
together, anyone compelled to choose will find greater security in being
feared than in being loved.'"

   His eyes narrowed with malice and his voice went cold, "I know that you
do not love me and never will.  So, fear will have to do.  Bend over the
couch, my dear."

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

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

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

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

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

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

   As her Master sawed his barbed cock back and forth in her rectal cavity,
Mia was further tormented by the memory of the day she had received the
Gift.  She whimpered as it swelled upwards, unbeckoned and unwanted, from
the dark recesses of her mind..

   The raiders had rolled into her village at dusk, demanding food for the
hungry Ottoman army traveling a day's ride to the south.  Her village had
nothing to give as the Czar's men had taken all that they had the day
before.  The Ottomans had refused to believe this, and had killed the men
of the village one by one.  After each death, they had stated that the
murder would cease if the villagers showed them the hidden cache.  But
there had been nothing to show.



   When all of the men were dead, the soldiers had turned upon the women.
The Ottomans had taken Mia in every way that a man can violate a woman, as
cruelly if not as painfully as her Master was taking her now.  Afterwards,
as she lay in the street, broken and bleeding, the moonlight had suddenly
been blotted out by the silhouette of a man.

   He had bent down to her and asked quietly, "Do you wish to live, girl?"

   She had croaked out, "Yes.  Yes, I want to live."

   He had leaned even closer, peering dispassionately in her face, "Do you
wish to live even if it means serving me for the rest of your existence."

   He had frightened her, but she had feared her rapidly approaching demise
even more.  She had nodded her assent.

   With a mocking smile, he had then told her, "As you wish." With a
fingernail that was suddenly long and sharp, he had opened a vein in his
wrist and held it to her mouth.  While his blood dripped down her throat,
he had bent and tore at her neck with teeth that were far too long and
sharp.  Her vision had faded and then gone black.

   She cursed that decision now, wishing fervently with all of her being
that she had chosen to die with the rest of her village.

   With a harsh laugh, her master broke her from her reverie by bringing
the belt down again upon her helplessly clenched buttocks.  He thrust
himself violently forward into her whimpering form and she knew that he was
cumming deep within her.  He held himself inside her for a moment longer
and then, with a muttered curse, pulled himself free.

   He slapped her ass lightly.  "The sun will be rising soon.  Go clean
yourself off so we can retire."

   Cowering and defeated, Mia stood and hastened to obey.  She had taken
several steps when her master asked, in a dangerous tone, "Forgetting
something?" She immediately turned and dropped to her knees, her Master
laughing at the look of revulsion on her face.  Leaning forward, she took
his still hard cock in her mouth, cleaning it quickly of every vestige of
her blood and his seed, thankful that she no longer produced fecal matter.
When she was finished, he took his shaft in hand and used his cock to slap
her lightly on her cheeks and forehead before tucking it away.  "Hurry now,
my dear.  The sun comes."

   Once she had cleaned the blood from her lower body and wiped the tear
streaks from her face, Mia hastened back to the living room and her Master.
He took her arm in his and led her to the basement.  There, in what had
once been a coal cellar, were two identical steel coffins.  They didn't
need to pass their daytime dormancy in such cliched contrivances; they
could spend the day any place that was protected from the sun, even a bed
if they wished.  From a practical standpoint, though, the caskets were
difficult to beat.

   Dormancy bore a far closer resemblance to true death than it did to the
slumber of mortals.  While dormant, Mia and her master were helpless,
completely unaware of their surroundings.  They would not, could not, wake
no matter what was done to their defenseless bodies.

   The heavy steel clad boxes with the large bolt locks that could only be
operated from within protected them from far more than sun light.  While
inside the protective casings, the house could burn down around them and
they would remain unharmed.  If any intruders happened upon them, the
strong locks would likely hold them at bay, hopefully long enough for dusk
to fall.

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

   Arthur watched his fledgling crawl into her casket before doing the
same. He had thoroughly enjoyed the night's dalliance, but it had been
contrived.  Although what he had told her about the old adage of a ruler
choosing fear over love was technically true, Machiavelli did have more to
say on the subject.  He had warned that one should take care lest the fear
turn to hatred.  In this case, however, hatred was exactly what he desired.
It would take hate of incredible magnitude to push Mia to rebel fully, and
he had come to the conclusion that her rebellion was precisely what he
needed to accomplish his purpose in this tiny city.

   It shouldn't take much more, he decided.  When he rose again, he would
repeat what he had done to Mia with a mortal woman.  A woman whose flesh
wasn't so...resilient.  Forcing Mia to watch such wanton cruelty should be
enough to push her over the edge.

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

   Chapter 2

   Mia's eyes snapped open as she came fully awake the moment the sun
dropped below the horizon.  Immediately, she pushed her awareness outwards
through the house, seeking any presence other than her Master.  Finding
none, she sighed in disappointment before throwing back the latch to her
coffin and lifting the lid.  It was too much to expect that the police
would track her down so quickly, but she had dared to hope.  A metallic
clang sounded from her left as her Master emerged from his own casket.

   He looked her up and down with a thin smile, before telling her, "Go
dress yourself in something more appropriate for a chilly evening, child.
Hurry, now, we have much to do tonight."

   Mia looked down at the slinky red dress she still wore.  While she
didn't feel the cold, at least not unless the temperature was far enough
below freezing that her fluids turned to ice and slowed her movement, she
understood what her Master meant.  They would be going out among the
mortals tonight and he did not wish to draw attention to themselves.  Mia
hurriedly ran upstairs to change.

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

   A half hour later, they arrived in Shadyside, one of the wealthier
residential districts of the city.  As they walked past each of the fine
houses, Mia could feel her Master extending his consciousness into the
structures, taking inventory of the lives within.  He was looking for
something specific.

   Finally, he paused in front of a medium sized brick house and, with a
grunt of satisfaction, strode up the walk to the front door.  Arthur
knocked, and, shortly, a pretty, young woman answered.  She looked at them
in confusion for a moment and Mia could feel her Master exerting his will.

   The young woman's eyes glazed over slightly and, in a befuddled tone,
she said, "Oh, Mr.  Baker, it's nice to see you.  My parents are out of
town for the week and I'm just watching the place for them.  Anything I can
do for you?"

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

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

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

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

   Fleeing the house that now smelled of agony and death, Mia ran quickly
toward the Hill District, blurring the minds of the mortals that she passed
so that they would not remember a woman moving far faster than could
possibly be natural.  The buildings that flashed by her gradually made the
transition from the fine, well kept manses of the wealthy residents of
Shadyside, to the solid, institutional buildings of the University of
Pittsburgh, to the seemingly endless row of medical buildings and, finally,
to the worn and poorly maintained homes and buildings of her target area.

   Within moments of entering the area, she located exactly what she
sought. A large man, arrogant with what he perceived as strength, stood
leaning against the corner of a derelict building which was so thickly
covered with gang tags that it was impossible to determine its original
color.  She watched from the shadows as several people approached him
furtively, passing him cash in exchange for tiny packets.  When he was
alone, she approached him slowly, feigning nervousness.

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

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

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

   Mia didn't know whether to be insulted or not.  She had no idea what
exactly he was selling.  Flashing a quavering smile, she replied with a
simple, "Ok."

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

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

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

   Instead of responding, she lowered herself to her knees and leaned
forward to run her tongue up and down his length before taking the plum
sized head into her mouth, sucking it lightly.  She pumped her lips over
the last five inches of his member, seeking and eventually finding the
large, wide vein that ran, pulsing with life, up its length.  On her next
downstroke, she extended her fangs, moaning in ecstasy at the feel of his
hot blood gushing into her mouth as she tore a gaping rent in the
vulnerable vessel.

   At the first touch of her teeth upon his sensitive manhood, the man
gasped in pain and reached for his psitol.  Instantly, though, the pain was
replaced with previously unimaginable pleasure, and he took her head gently
in his hands, the gun forgotten.  His knees gave way and he slid slowly
down the wall.  Mia followed his movements easily, supporting his weight
tenderly as his strength faltered, keeping his hard length firmly in her
mouth.  Then he was cumming, shooting his semen into Mia's mouth along with
his blood and his life.  Mia devoured them all hungrily.

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

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

   Chapter 3



   Detective Thomas McNelly brought his battered Ford to a stop in front of
the apartment building and waited for the engine to rattle itself out
before laboriously prying his well over six foot frame from the cramped
interior.  He was not a handsome man by any common definition of the word.
Although still shy of forty, years of caffeine and nicotine addiction
combined with many sleepless nights had put gray streaks in his thinning
brown hair and had left spiderwebs of lines around his mouth and eyes.  It
didn't help that these features were on a face that even his mother had
been known to describe as "unremarkable."

   Still, there was something about him, perhaps the twinkle of kindness in
his eyes , the deep smile wrinkles at the edges of his mouth or the air of
carefree good humor that surrounded him, that inspired people to trust him.
As he quickly walked toward the building, he showed no evidence of that
good humor.  Frowning in irritation he counted four - no - five, black and
whites blocking off the street, lights flashing blue and red.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   "Any good news?"

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

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

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

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

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

   "What do we know about the victim?"

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

   "Appelton?"

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

   "Injuries?  Cause of death?"

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

   "Shit."

   "Yeah."

   "Do we know the time of death?"

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

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

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

   "Your dick isn't worth a dollar."

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

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

   They contemplated the apartment in silence.  The place was immaculately
spotless to the point that it looked more like a showroom than someone's
residence.  The IKEA furniture was dust free and highly polished.  Tom
snorted slightly in disgust: who actually polished IKEA furniture?  The
thin beige carpet was so clean that Tom knew that a steam cleaner had to be
lurking in one of the closets.

   The bedroom was the only area in disarray.  The coroners had thrown the
blankets on the floor and the pillows were stacked on a cedar chest at the
foot of the bed.  Using the end of a pencil, Tom poked unenthusiastically
through the clothes folded over the bedroom chair.

   "Tom?"

   "Yeah, Mark?"

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

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

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

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

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

   "Yeah?"

   "Come here and take a look at this."

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

   "That what I think it is?"

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

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

   "Oh, and Mark?  Now that we have reason to believe that it wasn't an
intruder, that Larry had company on the night he died, send some patrolmen
to the cab companies to see if anyone remembers dropping him and a guest
off."

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

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

   "Good."

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

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

   "Only one way to find out, boss."

   "True, that.  You riding with me?"

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

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

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

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

   Tom involuntarily sucked his gut in.  He did his best to keep in shape,
jogging and going to the gym whenever the opportunities arose, but the
opportunities were arising less and less these days and it showed.  He had
taken to keeping the front of his suit buttoned up to hide the paunch that
was forming on his midriff.  It figured that Mark would notice anyway.

   In reply, Tom eyed his friend's ample waistline, "Yeah, married life has
certainly helped you stay slim and trim."

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

   Both men suddenly remembered what awaited them at their destination, and
the laughter choked off.

   Chapter 4

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

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

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

   Even in such a bold undertaking, though, Mia had proven to be overly
cautious, even timid.  Fortunately, when he had forced her to watch as he
defiled the young woman the night before, the last of her reservations had
finally faded.  Incidently, it had also increased the pleasure he had
derived from the act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Arthur quickly located the living room and took a seat on the plush
leather couch.  Reaching into the woman's mind, he made several
adjustments. The fear faded from her eyes, replaced by lust.  Sinking to
her knees in front of Arthur, she desperately undid the zipper to his
pants. His engorged manhood immediately popped free, striking her in the
chin.  She swooped forward, taking most of his length into her mouth,
lashing the underside with her tongue.

   Arthur reached next to the couch and grasped her husband by the hair,
pulling the man to his knees so he could observe his wife's actions.  After
a moment's consideration, Arthur reached into the man's mind and diminished
his terror just enough to ensure that he could comprehend what he was
seeing.

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

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

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

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

   Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Tom almost groaned in frustration, but he could understand.  He forced a
smile on his face and answered, "Sure you can.  Bathroom's right at the end
of the hall." She moved past him, and his gaze traveled up her shapely,
stocking covered legs to the round, full ass encased by a tight wool skirt.
He admiringly watched her shapely bottom sway provocatively back and forth
as she walked down the hall, unable to believe his good fortune.

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


   "Please don't," she whispered, "I've been freezing all day and I just
can't seem to get warm."

   Now that she had mentioned it, he noticed that she did feel cold against
him.  Instinctively, he pulled her even closer, seeking to warm her body
with his own.  He took the body wash from the shower shelf and started to
bathe her.  He made long, caressing strokes up and down her smooth, well
muscled back and the firm, lush curves of her ass, reveling in the feel of
her soft, soap slippery skin beneath his hands.  As he did so, she twined
her arms around his neck and leaned into him, breathing hard against his
chest.  When he finally decided that her back was clean enough, he gently
turned her around and began to give her front the same treatment.  He
hefted her breasts lightly in his hands before sliding his hands upwards to
rub and gently pinch her nipples until they stood hard and erect.  She
shivered, her arms falling limply to her sides while her head fell back to
rest on his shoulder.

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

   "Does your hair need washed?" he asked softly.

   Mutely, she nodded her head rapidly a few times in response.

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

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



   After laying her gently down on his pillows, thanking fate that he had
actually washed his linens fairly recently, he bent and kissed her lips,
losing himself in their softness for a time.  Breaking their embrace, he
kissed, licked and nibbled a path down the line of her jaw and then her
neck.  When he reached her breasts, he ran his tongue firmly over the
entire surface of one before sucking the nipple lightly into his mouth and
teasing it with his tongue.  Turning his head, he repeated the process on
the other.  Mia cradled his head gently in her arms, making little mewls of
pleasure.  Once both nipples were standing hard and proud, shiny with his
saliva, he kissed and licked his way down the center of her stomach,
pausing only briefly to tongue the slight indentation of her navel.  She
suddenly gripped his shoulders tightly.

   "What are you doing?" she asked in astonishment.

   Tom couldn't believe that a woman so beautiful and sexy had never had
someone go down on her, but that was apparently the case.  With a broad
grin, Tom whispered, "Shhh, lie back and relax.  I think you'll like it."

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

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

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

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

   Lost in pleasure, Tom felt his release rising inside of him when he
suddenly realized that they weren't using protection.  He pulled his lips
back from hers, but she leaned forward to silence his unasked question with
another kiss.

   "Don't worry, you can't get me pregnant," she whispered, "Cum in me!"

   Tom eagerly obeyed, thrusting himself fully into her as he erupted into
her depths.  She pulled him to her and nuzzled his neck.  Briefly, he felt
her teeth, which seemed exceptionally sharp, drag across his skin, but then
she pushed him back slightly and crushed her lips to his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Chapter 6

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

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

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

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

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

   "Ha!  Details!  Give me details!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Tom chuckled as he accepted the sheet of paper Mark handed him.  And
then his world reeled, the cup of coffee falling from suddenly nerveless
fingers to spatter across the floor.

   Mark rushed to his side and grabbed his arm in support, concern writ
large on his every feature.  "What's the matter, Tom?  Talk to me."

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

   "It's who, Tom?"

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

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

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

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

   Tom looked at his friend blankly for a moment and then groped in his
pocket.  As he pulled out a rumpled post-it, he said grimly.  "I think I
already know where she is."

   Chapter 7

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

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

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

   "Yeah, boss?"

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

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

   "Thanks, Mark."

   "No problem.  See ya soon."

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

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

   As Mia opened the lid of her casket, she saw her Master glance her way
with a look of pure malice on his face.  "We have guests, my dear," Arthur
said calmly.  "Come with me and let us make them pay dearly for their
trespass."

   Mia's body began responding automatically to the command.  There was no
chance of disobedience.  Her Master began walking towards the cellar steps,
power rising around him.  Mia shied back, her eyes widening in fear.  Her
kind grew stronger over time and she knew that Arthur, who was much older
than she, was also a great deal more powerful, but she had never suspected
anything of the magnitude he was displaying now.  As she hurried to catch
up to him in obedience to his command, all the moisture in the air
coalesced into a thick fog that flowed and eddied about them, rising
upwards through the house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Mia watched her Master stride towards her over the broken, motionless
bodies of numerous policemen, his lips pulled back from bloody teeth in
jubilation.  "It has begun, child," he said, "Let us be gone from this
place."

   With those words, he turned and ran into the darkness.  Mia hesitated,
her eyes widening in wonder.  He had not specified a direction or
destination.  With only slight pain at disobeying the unstated intent of
his command, she turned in the opposite direction from that he had taken
and ran with all the speed she could muster.  After a few minutes, the bond
resonated with his confusion over her actions.  This was quickly followed
by rage.  It faded only slowly with distance.

   Chapter 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Tom's gun didn't waver as he asked, "What are you, Mia?"

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

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

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

   "But you were fine with killing everyone else?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   "And then?"

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

   When she had finished, Tom asked gently, "Why did you come here, Mia?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Chapter 9

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

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

   "Mark?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   "Yeah, I know, but it's all I got at the moment."

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



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

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

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

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

   "See you then."

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

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

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

   Chapter 10

   When Tom exited the apartment building, he was immediately blinded by
the flash of more than a dozen cameras.  Blinking away the spots of light
that continued to swim in his vision, he resolutely waded through the
reporters that were closing in on him like a pack of wolves.  He winced as
they bombarded him with questions concerning the debacle of the previous
night.  At least, he thought, it seemed from the content of the questions
that the cover story was holding up.  With a grimace, Tom wondered how long
that would last.

   When he finally reached the relative safety of his car door, he fixed a
polite and blatantly fake smile on his face, "Those are matters involving
ongoing police investigations.  You know that I can't comment."

   Tom laboriously climbed into the vehicle, fearing for a moment that some
of the reporters were actually going to try to get in with him. 
Fortunately, he was spared that indignity.  Once safe behind the thin
sheets of rusted out metal, he started the vehicle and gunned the engine,
leaving the reporters deafened by several loud backfires and coughing in a
cloud of black smoke.

   Tom decided to hit the library first.  On his way there, he entertained
a fantasy in which he sustained Mia on a diet of nothing but sensationalist
journalists.  The journey ended all too soon.

   Tom had been at the Carnegie library for close to two hours, perusing
both the stacks and the net, when his cell phone rang.  Caller id informed
him that it was Mark.

   "How's it going, Lazarus?  Please tell me that you're having better luck
than I am," Tom said as he answered.



   Mark's loud and boisterous voice burst from Tom's earpiece, "Actually,
boss, things are going pretty damn well.  I thought that I would have a
hell of a time convincing anyone that we had a vampire loose in the city. I
was wrong.  We've all been joking about vampires ever since the first
drained body showed up and, even though we all laughed, apparently the
jokes left nagging doubts in some people.  When I gave my official report
on last night's raid in the briefing room, there was no one laughing at
all. A few people looked at me like maybe blood loss had damaged my ol'
noggin, but quite a few came up to me afterwards to quietly ask what I
thought we could do to put an end to this.  A lot of them had helped to
clean up the mess last night and they want payback.  I took down the names
of those who are willing to help us out and I'll text those over to you in
a bit.  We have nineteen so far."

   Mark paused for a moment and then continued in a far quieter tone, "Tom,
just so you know, in my official report and in my little talks afterwards,
I told everyone that it was our male perp that did all that killing and
that the female perp actually saved me.  I suppose the latter is true
enough; maybe even twice over.  I thought that maybe this would help pave
the way for when we introduce Mia to the team.  Before you say thanks, I
want you to know that I did it because it seems pretty damn obvious that
we're going to need Mia to see this thing through, and that'll be tough
enough without having to deal with resentment and distrust in the ranks. 
Don't get me wrong, Mia seems like a nice enough girl and all, once you get
by the whole fangs and feeding on human blood things anyway, and I see the
way you look at her, but if we didn't have the big baddy still running
around loose...  Well, I would do my job."

   With a sigh, Tom responded, "Yeah.  This isn't exactly the easiest
situation, is it?  Whatever your reasons, though, I do appreciate it. 
Thanks."

   "No problem, boss.  Another thing that you really need to know is that
one of our believers is the Chief.  He pulled me aside and asked me if I
had any idea of how to resolve our situation.  I told him that we were
working on it, showed him my list of names and told him that you were going
to be procuring some weapons that we had reason to believe would be
effective.  He authorized me to pull our little team whenever we needed and
told me that overtime wouldn't be an issue.  He also told me to tell you to
use the department's card when you go shopping.  He said that he can hide
anything up to ten grand in the 'miscellaneous' portion of the budget. 
Obviously, he wants to keep any word of vampires from the press, so the
quicker we get this done, the happier he'll be."

   Mark paused for thought for a moment, "I think that's about all I have
to report.  So, I'm guessing that things aren't going well at the library?
You do know that proper library usage requires that you know how to read,
right?"

   "Funny.  But, yeah, I'm striking out here.  I guess that I had thought
that I could waltz right in and there would be something like a big yellow
'Vampires for Dummies' book waiting for me.  The truth is downright
depressing.  Most of the stuff in the stacks on vampires is in the fiction
section, Bram Stoker, Anne Rice and the like.  Not exactly a great source
of factual information.  The stuff in the non-fiction section is all about
narcissistic kids who pretend to be vampires.  Also useless to us.  And,
finally, all the stuff on the web seems to be unlikely fap stories written
by third rate writers.  I had been hoping to get a head start before Mia
wakes up, but I'm about to give up."

   "Ok, boss.  Unless you need me for something else, I was going to head
home for a while.  Seems that I, uh, sorta forgot to tell Jenny when I was
discharged from the hospital.  She arrived for visiting hours and found an
empty bed in a cleaned out room.  Lets just say it freaked her out a
little. I need to go smooth things over, prove I'm not dead, that kinda
thing.  Of course, I think I'll let her believe that my recovery was the
result of some divine miracle rather than telling her that it was because a
lovely young woman licked me all over.  Anyway, I'll see you around dusk."

   "Ok, Mark.  By the way, were the reporters outside my building when you
left?"

   "Oh.  Yeah.  I thought about giving you a call and warning you about
that, but I know how much you love surprises.  Oh, hey!  I almost forgot.
One of our merry band of vampire hunters is qualified as a sketch artist.
Would you mind if I brought her with me to talk to Mia?  I was so busy
looking at the guy's big fucking claws that I didn't really get a good look
at his face.  I figure Mia will be able to help us put together a picture
that we could pass around."

   "Yeah, I guess that would be ok.  Good thinking.  Take care, Mark, and I
will get you back for not telling me about the reporters."

   After Tom left the library, he traveled across town to Phil's Archery,
where he took advantage of the Chief's generosity by purchasing a number of
composite bows and crossbows.  He tried to get as many crossbows as
possible as he figured that the learning curve for their use would likely
be a little better.  Damn things were expensive, though.  Ammunition was
something of a problem.  Not many archers used wooden arrows or bolts
anymore, so Phil's stock of these items were low.  On the bright side, Phil
did have enough to at least get them started and promised that he could
have as many as Tom wanted within two days.  Tom put in an order for 500 of
each, just to be safe.  Before he left the store, Phil, pleased over the
size of the sale, was kind enough to give Tom a crash course in bow and
crossbow usage and maintenance at the indoor range attached to the back of
the store.

   Finally feeling as though he was accomplishing something, Tom next went
to the Apparel Warehouse in the strip district to pick up a few pairs of
jeans, a couple of t-shirts, a pair of running shoes and some socks and
underwear for Mia.  The poor girl would need something to wear other than
what she had on and they obviously couldn't retrieve her things from the
site of a huge mass murder investigation.  His selection didn't exactly fit
what he knew of her style, but Tom figured comfort and durability would be
more important in the coming days than elegance.

   The station was Tom's last intended stop before going home.  There he
checked Mark's text message and used it to locate the men and women it
identified.  He was lucky; eight of the team were experienced bow hunters
and even had their own gear.  He had the remaining eleven come out to his
car in twos and threes to pick out a weapon and ammo to go with it.  Once
everyone was armed, he left them with the suggestion that it would be a
good idea to get to the range and have the more experienced men teach the
others how to use the archaic weapons.

   On his way home, Tom, acting on sudden inspiration, made a quick detour
to the hardware store where he purchased a number of inch thick oak dowel
rods.  Satisfied at last with his medieval arsenal, he made it to his
apartment with less than a half hour to spare before dusk.

   When Mark stomped through Tom's front door fifteen minutes later, a
pretty, young, uniformed patrolwoman with a laptop under her arm in tow, he
found Tom sitting on the living room couch, inexpertly using a kitchen
knife to whittle a point onto the end of one of the dowels.  Mark stood
watching his friend for a moment before asking, "Stakes?"

   "Sort of.  I was thinking we could use them like pikes to hold our big
baddy, as you called him, at bay or at least keep him from charging at us."

   Mark grunted, "Good idea." Realizing that the patrolwoman was standing
awkwardly beside him, he quickly gestured between the two, "Detective Tom
McNelly this is Officer Dana Smith and vice versa."



   Tom glanced at the woman, "Yeah, we met at the station earlier.  Good to
see you again, Dana."

   After a little more polite chit chat, Mark plopped himself down in Tom's
recliner, pulled a swiss army knife from his pocket, and, after helping
himself to a dowel, began whittling.  Dana soon joined Tom on the couch and
started carving her own dowel with a utility knife taken from a pouch on
her belt.

   After a few minutes had passed, Dana asked, "Aren't we supposed to
season them over an open flame or something?"

   "Hell if I know," Tom replied, "I missed the class at the Academy on the
finer aspects of spear making." Shifting his attention to Mark, he then
asked, "How are things with Jenny?"

   Mark rolled his eyes, "She's mad as hell.  Women just can't see the
humor in things.  She'll come around, though.  She's a fine gal."

   The group returned to their crude woodworking for a few minutes before
Mark asked, "Any thoughts on where we're going to set our trap?"



   Tom replied, "I have a few ideas, but I'll need to confirm some things
with Mia, and make sure she's willing to serve as bait, before there's any
point in tossing one out for a final decision."

   "Isn't she about due to wake up or, well, whatever it is she does?"

   "I'm guessing so.  I didn't think to ask her how dark it needs to be
before she wakes."

   Chapter 11

   For once when Mia awoke, she didn't need to extend her senses to be able
to tell that she wasn't alone; she could easily hear the two men bickering
and bantering in the next room with occasional input from a feminine voice.
Mia stretched, luxuriating in the feel of the soft bed beneath her.  Her
cramped dark casket was safer, but this certainly had its advantages as
well.

   Rising, she focused her will slightly to put her hair in place and
started to walk to the living room when she noticed a pile of women's
clothing with a post-it affixed to the top.  Even in the dim light she was
easily able to read the message, "I left this here because I wasn't sure
when you would wake.  I picked up some things to tide you over until we can
go shopping together.  If you'd like, you know where the shower is.  T."
Mia smiled and began poking through the stack.

   Several minutes later, she walked barefoot into the living room wearing
a pair of jeans and a Clarks t-shirt.  Both men and the woman looked up
from where they were carving points on sticks and greeted Mia with smiles,
though the woman's was quite cold.  Tom held out an arm in invitation.  Mia
bent forward for a quick embrace and a light kiss, marveling again at how
different this night was from the thousands that had preceded it.

   Tom, with occasional input from Mark, quickly brought her up to speed on
the preparations they had made during the day, and introduced her to Dana.
As Mia digested the information, Tom asked, "Would you mind working with
Dana for a few minutes to help us get a picture of Arthur?"

   Mia readily consented and the two women moved to the kitchen table,
pointedly ignoring the fast food containers and dirty dishes which
eloquently demonstrated that Tom was indeed a bachelor.  Dana quickly got
the laptop with its complex graphics software up and running; the term
"sketch artist" was something of an anachronistic misnomer in this day and
age.

   Outwardly, Dana worked with cool professionalism, but Mia could sense
the disquieting and often violent images running through her head; one of
the most prevalent being the image of Dana impaling Mia with one of the
crude spears.  Even worse for Mia, the scent of fear that rolled off the
woman in waves was exciting her predatory instincts.  Between this and the
pain that her assistance cost her, by the time they had a reasonably close
image of Arthur pieced together, Mia was seething with resentment and
anger.

   At last, after confirming with Mark and Tom that the image was to be
distributed to all patrol cars with orders to report any sighting
immediately but to make no attempt at arrest, Dana stood to leave.  As Dana
turned to nod farewell to Mia, a final improbable and violent image from
Dana's mind caused Mia's anger to boil over.  Mia returned the woman's nod
with a wide smile, her fangs sliding into place.  Dana paled and fled the
room.

   With a sad sigh, Tom asked Mia quietly, "Was that really necessary?"

   Mia returned hotly, "No, I suppose not, but she annoyed me.  The entire
time we were working, she kept fantasizing about impaling me with one of
your glorified curtain rods.  It pissed me off."

   Tom nodded in sympathy and replied, "I understand, but think of things
from her perspective.  She worked on the composite of you that went around
the station yesterday.  She knows that composite was done in connection
with the investigation of more than one murder.  She was listening on the
radio when the SWAT team reported sighting a male and a female perp during
the raid yesterday evening.  She helped pick up the pieces, sometimes
literally, last night.  She's far from stupid.  She knows that you were
somehow involved with the death of quite a few of her friends, even though
Mark told everyone that it was Arthur who did the actual killing.  She even
knows that you're a vampire.  Despite all of this, she was willing to come
here knowing that she would be working with you.  She, and the rest of our
team, are putting our collective goal ahead of any personal feelings."

   Mia slumped with a look of mild embarrassment on her face, "You're
right. Please tell her that I'm sorry.  I've never really worked as part of
a group before, but I am trying."

   Tom pulled her into a tight embrace, "I know you are, Mia.  We're all in
new territory here, it'll take some getting used to."

   After a moment, Tom released her and asked, "Would it be ok if we asked
you some questions?  If answering any of them will cause you pain, just let
us know and we'll move on."

   Mia shrugged, "Any information that I could give you that will be of any
use will be, at least to some degree, a betrayal of my Mas, err, of Arthur.
It's ok.  I'm accustomed to pain.  It's far easier to endure when it's for
a good cause." The faces of both men drooped in sympathy.

   They all sat silently for a few minutes, neither man apparently willing
to start asking questions when they knew what answering would cost her. 
Mia looked back and forth between them expectantly for a while before
finally blowing out a mouthful of air in exasperation.  Crossing her arms
across her chest as a bulwark against the pain she knew was coming, she
started, "How about if I just start with the basics, and then you can ask
questions as needed."

   At nods from both men, she continued, "From the moment a vampire is
created, it is far stronger, faster and more agile than it ever was in
life. All senses, sight, sound, hearing, taste, and touch, are also
enhanced.  As a vampire ages, all of these things improve.  The difference
from one year to the next isn't that impressive, but over the span of a
century the accumulation is very significant.  Age isn't the only factor
for determining the strength of an ability; there are individual variations
between us.  For example, my sense of smell is far better than Arthur's,
even though he is a lot older than I.  On the other hand, he is physically
stronger than I could ever hope to be, even if I survived for a thousand
years.  We also develop a few abilities like nothing we had as a mortal. 
Foremost is the ability to change, but we also have a very short range form
of telekinesis and can extend our senses remotely.  The influence of the
telekinesis is limited to things on or in very close proximity to our
bodies; for example we can clean or repair clothing, reorder our hair and
open locks if we're touching the key hole.  The extension of senses is like
a short range clairvoyance.  I can extend mine roughly thirty meters. 
Arthur maybe fifty."

   Now that the ice had been broken, Mark leaned towards her, "Tom told me
that he thought that maybe you could tell where your, uh, Arthur, is.  That
so?"

   Mia replied, "I can tell which direction he is in, but can't tell you
how far.  I'll know if he moves closer or further away, but I don't know
what good that will do you without knowing the start point."

   Tom pursed his lips in thought, "Which direction is he now?"

   With a wince of pain, Mia gestured to the southwest, "That way, moving
slightly away from us."

   "So, he's not coming for you at the moment, at least.  Would you be able
to lead us to him?" Mark asked.

   "Well, I could.  However, I wouldn't be able to pinpoint his location
until we got extremely close, say within twenty sachine, err, excuse me,
fifty meters.  I wouldn't even know that we were getting anything but
relatively closer until then.  That near, all it would take would be a
whisper from him and you would have two vampires to fight.  On a related
note, I should also tell you this: He was happy that the battle with your
men happened.  He wanted to be exposed.  Now that he is, he won't be hiding
anymore.  His daytime resting place will be well guarded, most likely by
mercenaries.  Robbing his victims for centuries and carefully investing
those gains has left him with nearly limitless resources for hiring them. I
also would not be surprised if he starts making new fledglings.  So, if you
go for him at night, you need to be ready for one hell of a fight.  It will
take, at the very least, overwhelming numbers."

   Tom gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, but focused his attention on
Mark, "Triangulation," he said simply.

   At Mia's look of confusion, Mark explained, "We take you around the
circumference of the city and have you point in his direction from several
known points.  We get out a map, draw some lines, and, bingo, we know where
he is."

   Mia nodded her head slowly.  "That could work, but I expect that he will
be on the move the entire time he is awake rather than sitting around
waiting for us to show up.  During the day, when he is in his new lair, I
won't be of much help."

   Tom's shoulders slumped slightly.  "Ok.  Do you think he'll come looking
for you?"

   Mia shivered, "Yes.  That is almost a certainty.  Whether it's to
reclaim his lost toy or to punish me for my betrayal of him, he will come."

   Far more gently, Tom asked, "When he does, would you be willing to be,
well, bait is really the only way to describe it?"

   Mia nodded quickly, "Of course.  When he comes for me, I would much
prefer that he walk into a trap than that the alternative occur.  If we do
set such a trap, though, you must make certain that I am tightly secured.
Thick chains would probably be best.  Otherwise, when he comes..."

   "Understood," Tom said.  He flicked his eyes toward Mark.

   "I'll pick some up from maintenance, boss.  No problem."

   Tom next asked, "Well, you've told us that wood and sunlight can kill
vampires.  How about full spectrum lights?"

   "We actually tried that on a feral a few decades ago.  It didn't work.
My theory is that it's not a physical property of the sun that does us harm
but a spiritual one."

   "Feral?" Mark asked.

   "When a vampire creates another, he can do it in two different ways. 
The first is by feeding his own blood to his victim as the victim is dying.
In this case, the fledgling will rise with mind intact.  If, however, a
vampire simply feeds on a person and does not disconnect the brain from the
body, that person will likely rise, but will be nothing but a mindless
animal.  Ferals are extremely hard to control and very dangerous.  Their
strength and speed are far greater than those of a normal fledgling of
equal age.  For these reasons, ferals are usually only created by mistake."

   Tom's eyes widened in sudden understanding, "So that's why the victim's
necks were broken."

   Mia nodded.

   What about things like garlic, crosses and holy water?" he then asked.

   Mia shook her head, "The belief that holy objects have power over us is
only superstition.  Arthur told me that there are some of our kind who were
very religious in life.  Because of their strong beliefs, holy symbols of
their specific faith could cause them -oh, what's the word?  -
psychosomatic injury.  Arthur's not like that.  On the other hand, I can
tell you from personal experience that garlic causes extreme skin
irritation that takes a while for even us to heal.  But while it interfered
with my ability to change and hurt like hell, it wasn't fatal."

   "You mentioned change earlier.  What does that mean, exactly?" Tom
asked.

   To demonstrate, Mia raised her hand, her eyes squinting in
concentration. The skin on her forearm and hand rippled and formed
chitinous spikes as her fingers and nails elongated to form sharp claws. 
Both men shied back with widening eyes.  She concentrated again and lowered
her now normal hand back to her lap.  "Change," she said.

   Chewing on his lower lip, Mark said, "Garlic could be useful.  We could
use garlic water like mace, maybe.  Might make him at least a little less
dangerous."

   Mark's eyes suddenly narrowed, "Hold on a sec.  You said that holy
symbols don't have any effect but that a spiritual property of the sun
does. Isn't there a bit of a contradiction there?"

   Mia shook her head, "Spirituality and religion are hardly synonymous or
even necessarily compatible."

   Hastily seeking to head off the brewing religious argument between Mia
and his devout Catholic friend, Tom asked, "Can you read minds, Mia?"

   "I can read surface thoughts, mostly in the form of images, and blur
recent memories.  I can also use a form of compulsion to plant limited
suggestions, but they will only be followed as long as they aren't
completely at odds with the person's desires.  Arthur's abilities in this
area are much stronger.  He can control a single person completely.  He can
root through all of your memories and make you relive any of his choosing.
He can also completely erase entire weeks from your recent memory."

   "Is there any way to keep him out of our heads?" Tom asked.

   "Not that I know of."

   "On a more personal note, Mia, would you be willing and able to live off
animals?" Tom asked in a casual tone.  Mia could tell from the way his
scent shifted to reveal intense anxiety that his interest was anything but
casual; to Tom this might be the most important answer of the night.

   Mia shrugged her shoulders helplessly, "As far as being able, I really
don't know.  Not long after I received the Gift, when my Master was
teaching me what it is to be a vampire, he told me that we could live off
of them for a time, but that we would slowly starve until we went mad from
hunger.  Whether he was telling the truth, I do not know.  I am willing to
try.  Just so you know, though, feeding means nothing unless a life is
taken.  I could never drain, say, a cow, enough to benefit from the
feeding. Any animal we try this with will have to be roughly the size of a
person or smaller."

   Tom looked over at Mark, "Do you remember that cadet you mentored a few
years back?  The one that moved out to the 'burbs right after training and
was heavily into 4H.  You still keep in touch with him?"

   Mark replied, "I remember him.  His name was Peter Black.  I haven't
really kept in touch; we exchange Christmas cards and that kinda shit, but
that's it.  I see where you're going, though.  I'll look up his number and
give him a call."

   "Thanks, Mark," said Mia, a smile brightening her face, "You have no
reason to want to help me, so I really appreciate that you are."

   "No problem.  Don't forget that I do owe you a couple," Mark answered,
"By the way, how long will it be until you need to feed again?"

   Mia shook her head slightly, "Less than a week.  It depends on a lot of
factors.  How much vitality the food had, the amount I use my abilities,
and whether or not I sustain any injury are a few."

   "How many of your kind are there, Mia?" Tom asked.

   "I'm sorry, but again, I really don't know.  Arthur has spoken of
others, including the one that made him, but I have never encountered
another besides him."

   Again they sat and looked at each other silently for a few moments, but
the men had exhausted their current supply of questions.  Finally, Mark
brought his palms down on his thighs with a resounding smack.  "Ok.  Recap
time.  The big, bad vamp isn't coming for our pretty little Mia just this
moment.  Going after him at night would be a really bad idea.  So, what are
we going to do?"

   Tom ran his fingers back through his hair with a sigh, "As much as I
hate the idea of reacting to him rather than taking action of our own, I
don't see that we currently have any other choice.  Even if he stays in one
place long enough to fix his position, our team hasn't had enough practice
with their new weapons to have a prayer of taking him out in the open. 
Until he makes a move to come for Mia or someone calls in a sighting, I
guess we do nothing.  So, let's contact our team and tell them to go home
and get some sleep.  Lets divide the team between us.  If and when
circumstances change, I'll call you first and then we'll each call the team
members on our list.  Once the call goes out, everyone is to muster at the
County Courthouse and Jail.  Oh, and if the call goes out tonight, call the
courthouse and make sure that the entrance and lobby are evacuated.  I'll
set up something more permanent with them tomorrow."

   The two men quickly divided their force in two, and made their
respective stand down calls.  Once they were finished, Mark said, "Well, if
that's everything, I guess I'll head on home to the missus.  I still have
some making up to do."

   Once Mark had left, Mia and Tom snuggled closer together on the couch,
each taking comfort from the simple presence of the other.  Thinking about
the number of times he had seen her face wince in pain during the question
and answer session, Tom asked quietly, "Are you, ok?"

   Mia looked up from his shoulder with a small smile, "Believe me, I've
experienced a lot worse." She cuddled more firmly into his chest, "I'm
feeling better already."

   For a long while, the two sat there on the couch, exchanging more gentle
questions and answers, each learning of the other as a person, but finally
Tom's lack of sleep began to show.  Despite his best efforts to stay awake,
Tom's eyes were soon too heavy to keep open and his head nodded back and
forth as if on a string.  Mia watched this with amusement for several
minutes before she laughed and said softly, "Why don't you go get some
sleep?  I'll be perfectly content watching tv or reading a book.  If Arthur
starts to move in our direction, I'll come wake you."

   Tom was so exhausted that he had no choice but to accept Mia's proposal.
After giving her a lingering kiss, he stood and headed toward his bed.  "If
you need anything, Mia, even if you're just feeling lonely and want to
talk, don't hesitate to wake me," he called out as he stripped and climbed
under the comforter.  He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

   Mia did try to watch tv for a time and even poked through Tom's rather
large collection of books, but she was too excited for such petty
diversions to keep her attention for long.  She was free!  At least for the
moment.

   After she had explored every square inch of the apartment outside of the
bedroom, Mia at last gave into temptation and moved quietly to the bed
where she stretched herself out next to Tom.  She turned on her side so she
was facing him and propped her head up on her palm.  Idly she wondered if
she were falling in love.  She had no frame of reference to use for
comparison; even in life the emotion had been a stranger to her.  Prior to
the day that Arthur had given her the Gift, she had, of course, been
married for years; the women of her village had been married at almost the
exact moment that they flowered, the betrothals arranged almost at birth.
She supposed that she had felt some affection for her husband, but the fact
that the marriage had not been of their choosing along with the fact that
it did not bear fruit kept any real intimacy from developing.

   After the Gift, she had known only pain and hate and loathing.  With a
shudder, she forced her mind away from the consideration of that dark,
endless time and returned her thoughts to the man before her.  She was
being silly and more than a little pathetic, she decided.  She had only
known him for a few days and she considered herself to be far too jaded and
world weary to give any credence to the notion of love at first sight. 
Nevertheless, she found that his mere presence made her feel joy such as
she had only rarely known before the Gift and never after it.  When he
spoke, all she could think about was the way his lips had felt when pressed
against hers.  When he looked at her, she felt like she was melting inside.
When they were apart, she could barely concentrate on anything as her mind
endlessly filled with thoughts of him.  Since he had entered her dreary
existence her dread of the future had faded to be replaced by another
emotion with which she had previously had only passing acquaintance: Hope.

   With a start Mia realized that she had been lost in thought for hours.
She quickly felt along the bond that connected her to Arthur.  He was still
distant and, although lust and a sort of oily smugness were filtering back
through the bond, there was no sign that he was coming for her.  Mia turned
back to Tom and decided that he had slept long enough.

   Softly, so as not to wake him, she eased the comforter down his body
until it was pooled in the vicinity of his knees.  For a moment she just
looked at him, a gentle smile on her lips, then she twisted around on the
bed until she was perpendicular to his hips, her legs tucked beneath her
stomach.  Her hair fell in soft waves over his loins, and she gently moved
her head back and forth, dragging the silken strands across his upper
thighs and soft manhood.  At the soft, slightly tickling, caress, Tom
shifted and murmured in his sleep.  With another smile, Mia pulled her hair
up so that it lay down her back before extending her tongue and lowering
her slightly pouted lips to his flesh.  She traced her tongue lightly
around the base of his scrotum, savoring the salty taste and musky smell of
his skin.  Shifting her head slightly, she ran her tongue over the wrinkled
skin of his sack, pausing momentarily to suck one of his testicles gently
into her mouth before sliding her tongue to the base his still flaccid
member.  In its current state, she was able to easily take his entire
length into her mouth where she sucked it softly while swirling her tongue
over its entire surface.  As it grew in her mouth, she concentrated the
movements of her tongue increasingly on his glans, occasionally teasing the
hole at its end with the tip of her tongue.  When it became fully hard, she
sighed in excitement at the sound and feel of the life pulsing just beneath
his skin.

   Tom came awake with a long, drawn out moan.  Mia felt one of his hands
caress her head and the side of her face before running down the length of
her back.  For a moment she could sense images of the wound she had
inflicted on the drug dealer flashing through his mind, and fear warred
with the combination of his arousal and his growing trust in her.  The
still hard flesh in her mouth left no room for doubt as to which emotions
were victorious.

   Mia shifted her body around so that she was lying between his legs,
which he readily spread to accommodate her.  She grinned mischievously
around his member as she looked up his body to meet his eyes.  He returned
her smile while softly brushing the hair from her face.

   Mia suddenly realized that, for the first time ever, she was with a man
whom she wanted to please and who knew and accepted what she was.  The
wicked possibilities of the situation made her grin grow even wider.

   She concentrated for a moment and small prehensile tentacles, like a
hundred tiny tongues, sprouted from the surface of her tongue, her inner
cheeks and the roof of her mouth, each of them softly caressing the flesh
of her lover.  Shivers of ecstasy ran up and down Tom's body and he threw
back his head in pleasure.



   Mia began to bob her head slowly up and down his length, never ceasing
the tender movement of the tiny tongues across whatever portion of his cock
was encased within her oral cavity at the moment.  With sudden inspiration,
Mia concentrated again and two of the tongues lengthened, stretching down
to lovingly and lightly lave his balls.

   As Tom's legs began to tremor and shake, Mia sensed his overwhelming
need to climax.  In response, she bobbed her head with ever greater
rapidity while slightly increasing the pressure being applied by her new
appendages.  Suddenly, she could feel every muscle in Tom's body go rigid,
his hips thrusting upwards.  She took him in as deeply as she was able and
felt liquid warmth erupt into her mouth.  As his climax faded, she swabbed
her tongues one last time over his member, cleaning it of every last drop
of his salty essence.

   Tom grasped her arms and gently began to coax her upwards.  Realizing
that the sight of her changed mouth could well be horrifying, regardless of
how it had made him feel, she resisted for a moment while she focused her
will enough to return her flesh to its normal state.  Afterwards, she
crawled happily up his body and into his embrace.  He held her tightly to
him and kissed her deeply, easing one of his hands beneath her shirt to
lightly scratch at the skin on her back.

   As he gazed softly into her eyes, Mia, acting on sudden impulse, timidly
extended her senses.  What she discovered made her eyes go wide in wonder:
his feelings for her matched those she had for him.  Basking in the sudden
warmth that suffused her body, a warmth that had nothing to do with body
heat, Mia joyfully snuggled her head into his chest, planting small
fluttering kisses everywhere she could reach.

   Tom began to move beneath her and she could sense his intent to give her
pleasure, not as a quid pro quo for what she had just done, but simply
because he desired her happiness.  She stopped him with a kiss.  "Just hold
me, Tom," she said languorously, "You can't imagine how good it feels to be
held."

   She could feel his smile against the crown of her head as he replied,
"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea."

   They lay entwined for a long, joyful eternity before the moment was
broken by the loud ringing of Tom's cell phone.  They both turned to look
at the clock; it was nearly 3 a.m.  Suddenly tense, Tom answered.  Mia
listened to his side of the conversation, "Yes, Chief...  Good Lord... 
I'll get the men together and be right there.  Could you make sure that no
one goes in before we arrive?...  Thanks."

   Tom looked down at her soberly, "There's been an incident and it sounds
bad.  From the sound of it, there is a remote chance that Arthur is still
in the area.  It would probably be safest if you stayed here.  I'll jot my
cell phone number down.  If you sense him heading in your direction, call
me."

   Mia nodded her agreement and watched as he dressed and made a number of
phone calls to assemble his task force.  Then, after a quick embrace and a
kiss, he was out the door.

   Chapter 12

   Arthur gazed out across the city skyline from the top of Mount
Washington.  The downtown area nestled on the large delta formed by two
rivers flowing together to form one.  At the very point of the delta was a
large well lit fountain; the droplets of cascading water scattering the
light like millions of falling diamonds.  The handful of massive
skyscrapers were brightly lit, glowing like beacons in the dark.  The
concrete and steel of the myriad bridges that crossed the three rivers had
faded into shadow, so that the bridges were marked only by the lights that
were strung across their lengths.  As a result they had a delicate
appearance, almost as if they had been constructed by the fairies and elves
of myth.

   This city really is aesthetically pleasing, he thought, it's almost a
shame what I'm going to do to it.  He had spent the earlier part of the
evening meeting with several mercenaries he had done business with years
ago in New Orleans during a period when he had been aggressively hunted
after overindulging himself.  He had called them the night before and, for
the amount of money he was offering, they had been willing to fly in
immediately.  Arthur had, of course, spent a large part of the meeting
planting suggestions in their minds to insure their absolute loyalty and to
prevent any moral qualms from interfering with their duties.

   For a moment he was distracted by the emotions feeding back from his
bond with Mia, forcing him to contemplate her fate.  He would have to
destroy her for her treachery, he decided, no matter that he had pushed her
to it.  He would, however, postpone it for a few nights.  Even in such a
short time, she would begin to hope that she would live, that she would
retain her freedom, and that her apparent newfound love could continue. 
Looking into her eyes as those hopes were crushed would make her death far
more satisfying.

   He turned his thoughts to the confrontation the night before.  He was
faintly irritated with the city and its police force over the matter.  He
had very publicly exterminated a significant number of policemen, but they
had still managed to keep the event relatively quiet.  Oh, they hadn't
tried to hide the loss of their elite unit, but they had attributed it to a
well armed gang hopped up on meth.  The truth would come out eventually,
Arthur knew; he had felt the terrified minds of the neighbors peering out
from behind nearly drawn curtains.  But the exposure of the authorities'
lies would take time and he was growing impatient, if not for the reason he
had expected.

   He still wanted to force his Maker to expose herself, but now, even
more, he wanted war.  He was weary of hiding in the shadows, tired of
limiting his feeding to the weak and poor and morally bankrupt.  He
relished the thought of combat with enemies who knew what he was.  For so
long his existence had lacked challenge.

   His thoughts were interrupted by a soft contralto voice.  "I assume that
it is no coincidence that you are in my city?"

   Startled, he spun around to stare at the diminutive Asian woman who had
spoken.  Her long black tresses hung to her hips, perfectly straight and
shining slightly in the light of the street lamp.  Under her elegant black
dress, her body appeared thin, almost boyish.  The fine features of her
olive toned face were so beautiful as to inspire poetry, or even murder. 
His senses had not warned him of her approach and still did not register
her presence.  She was a void to him.

   Knowing his thoughts, the woman smiled mockingly.  She then squinted her
slightly tilted eyes and, for Arthur, it was as if a veil had been drawn
from the sun.  The power emanating from her was of such magnitude that he
staggered backwards, falling to his knees with a cry of awe and anguish. 
She watched him cower for a moment before, with another narrowing of her
eyes, the void returned.

   She looked at him impatiently, "I believe I asked you a question,
child."

   Arthur fumbled to recall the question, to form a reply, "It is no
coincidence, Mistress.  I came here looking for you."

   "Do not call me 'Mistress', boy.  I never claimed that title over you.
As I recall, I released you from those ties even before they had finished
forming.  Now, why are you seeking me?"

   Arthur swallowed reflexively before answering, "I want to know why."

   The woman's mocking laughter struck Arthur like a blow.  "The child
seeks out the parent to ask the meaning of life?  How very droll.  You come
to my city and break the most ancient of our taboos merely to know why you
were created; why you exist?"

   At Arthur's mute nod, the woman continued, "I would have expected you to
have learned by now that life has no purpose other than to live.  I gave
you the Gift because I knew that you would not waste eternity feeling guilt
over the victims of your hunger.  I knew that you were one who would revel
in this existence and squeeze from it every last drop of pleasure it could
offer."

   "But why does our kind exist?"

   The woman's thin eyebrows arched upwards in surprised amusement.  "Our
kind exists for the most basic reason of all.  I refused to die."

   At Arthur's expression of sudden epiphany, the woman drawled, "Yes,
child, I, Lei Gu, was the first.  I was born in a time when the Egyptians
were just learning to stack one rock on top of another.  When I was old
enough to understand the ephemeral nature of human existence, I dedicated
myself to learning all of the knowledge of my people, seeking a way to
extend my life.  My people's understanding of the nature of existence
proved to be sadly lacking so I traveled, alone and unaided, across the
Gobi desert to the lands of the sag-giga, surviving the journey only by
pure strength of will.

   "There I studied with the followers of Enlil, god of the ghost land, in
the great cities of Eridu, Sippar and Shuruppak.  I learned glorious
things; dark, terrible, glorious things and eventually rose to become the
foremost Master of the Zi.  One of the things that I learned, child, is
that there are many worlds that exist adjacent to this one, some with
properties that are completely antithetical to our own.  One such world is
inhabited by beings of great and terrible power who peer into our world
with longing and hunger.  But the very nature of the life that they crave
to devour would cause their immediate destruction if they were to cross the
veil that separates the worlds unaided.

   "As my natural life was drawing to a close, I used the influence I had
attained to command that a great ritual be performed.  After months of
incantations, we sacrificed a thousand children to tear a hole in the veil
that separates the realities.  Then, when the moon and stars had reached
the perfect alignment and the incantations of hundreds of Masters of the Zi
had reached a thundering climax, I opened my own veins.  The hot blood that
flowed from me formed a conduit that allowed one of those beings, those
Outsiders, to pass from his world into me, giving me new life even as the
old drained into the sand.

   "As we fused into one, I mouthed the spells that established our nature,
subjugating the will of the Outsider completely to our own, allowing us to
pass the gift to others, and forging the bonds of compulsion between Master
and fledgling so that none could become greater than I."

   Lei paused in her narrative and, when she continued, her voice had gone
from exultant to bitter, "It was then, in my moment of triumph, that I was
betrayed.  One of my Masters of the Zi was secretly a priest of Utu, the
sun god, and believed the ritual to be an abomination.  Although his was
only one voice among many he was able to twist and pervert the magicks,
making it so that none who received the Gift could ever venture into the
realm of his lord."

   Lei fixed Arthur with a hard stare, "There, child.  Now you know the
price I paid for the gift that I gave you freely.  Tell me this: have you
squandered that which you were given?"

   Arthur returned her gaze levelly, refusing to be cowed any longer
despite that which had been revealed.  "No, I have not."

   Lei threw her head back in laughter.  "How arrogant you are, child. 
Such arrogance is required to survive for millennia.  Perhaps I was right
in giving you the gift." Her laughter ceased as she again fixed him with a
glare.  "You would do well to learn from my example and be more
discriminating when you choose to create a fledgling.  It takes far more
than large breasts and a pretty face to truly be one of us."

   "You know of Mia?"

   Lei's mouth twisted in derision.  "This city is my domain, Arthur.  I
know the thoughts, dreams, hopes and fears of all within it.  That includes
you and your progeny."

   The corners of Lei's lips turned up in a cold smile, "Now that you have
your answers, will you continue to walk down your current path?"

   Arthur considered this for a long moment before answering, simply,
"Yes."

   "Even though it could well bring the wrath of your brethren down upon
you?  Before you answer, consider this: the blame for your first
confrontation with mortal authorities might well be passed off to your
rebellious fledgling, but you, and only you, will be held responsible for
any actions taken from this point forward."

   "Will you oppose me, Mistress?"

   Lei frowned at being addressed by the title she had rejected, but her
brow furrowed in thought.  "No.  I don't believe that I will.  Not now. 
However, you should know that I created the law for a reason.  There is a
natural balance to every pairing of predator and prey, even one as
unnatural as ours.  If predators become too numerous or prey becomes too
scarce, the continued existence of both is put at risk.  If your actions
should ever grow to such a magnitude as to threaten that balance, I will
destroy you and yours without hesitation, mercy or remorse.  I have walked
this earth for seven thousand years and I will not be undone by the whim of
a willful child."

   Lei continued, "However, the developed nations have become too
comfortable, too complacent.  While the mortals jump at every minor threat,
real or imagined, to their empty, comfortable lives, they have forgotten
the true meaning of fear.  It was fear that inspired many of their greatest
works of art.  Many of their greatest discoveries were birthed in terror.
Without fear they have become less vibrant, less motivated, less vital.  I
grow bored with them.  So go, child, and teach them what it truly means to
be afraid.  I may even assist you on occasion.  Then again, I may not.  If
our kin come for you, though, I will not interfere.  I created the law that
you seek to violate and, while I choose not to enforce it personally,
keeping others from doing so would render it meaningless."

   It was Arthur's turn to sneer in derision.  "Since the time you gave me
the Gift, I have traveled to nearly every part of this world.  There are
maybe twenty of us in existence and certainly no more than twice that.  In
the absence of overwhelming numbers, I have no fear of cowards who skulk in
the shadows, denying themselves their true potential."

   Lei laughed again, "Arrogance."

   In a blur of motion, Lei was upon him, her hands gripping his head
tightly.  "I think I will give you one more gift, boy.  A gift of
knowledge. Use it well." Lei again unmasked her strength, this time with a
purpose other than simple display.  The power poured into every orifice,
every pore of Arthur's body, the divided flows reuniting in his mind with
such force that he fell, quaking and screaming, to his knees.  She released
her grasp on his head and he fell bonelessly to the pavement.

   Arthur managed to twist his head around to watch as Lei ran to the edge
of the observation platform and leaped out over the precipice, change
twisting and rippling across her entire body.  In an instant, a bird
existed in the place that she had occupied but a moment before.  A bird the
size of a condor but with the form of a raven.  With a few powerful beats
of wings that extended beyond the merely physical, it was gone.  Arthur lay
stunned.  While the change was overtaking her, in the instant when she was
between her human form and that of the avian, he had glimpsed the
horrifyingly beautiful visage of the Outsider.  It had threatened his very
sanity.

   When he was finally able to stand again, Arthur jumped down the face of
the steep incline to stand on the bank of the river at its base.  There he
spoke an incantation in a language that had only rarely been heard since
the fall of Babylon and strode across the surface of the water to be about
his dark purpose.

   Chapter 13

   Alicia hated her job.  Sam's Tavern was ostensibly a biker bar, but its
true clientele was a horrid mix of wannabes and parolees.  The parking lot
contained far more beat-up Honda Civics and rusty Ford Escorts than it did
Harleys.  As she wiped up yet another spilled beer on the bar, the
perpetrator of the mess gave her a sharp slap on the ass, laughing
uproariously at his own daring.  She sighed but otherwise ignored his
actions; she knew from experience that showing a reaction would just make
things worse.  Idly, Alicia wondered what awful thing she had done in a
previous life that had earned her the humiliations she was forced to endure
here every moment of every working night.

   She walked to the back of the pool room over a sticky film of spilled
beer and chewing tobacco and filled a tray with empty PBR and Old Milwaukee
bottles, again ignoring the hands that continuously snaked out to quickly
grope her ass or tits as she moved between the tables.  Yes, she decided,
she would certainly quit tomorrow if her husband hadn't just dumped her for
a younger woman leaving her destitute and barely able to pay her rent.

   She had just resumed her perch behind the bar and returned her attention
to the big clock on the wall, watching the seconds until last call slowly
tick down, when she heard the front door open.  She didn't pay any
attention until she noticed that the bar had gone silent.  Looking around,
she saw that all eyes were focused on the door.  Following their gaze, she
saw a tall, distinguished looking gentleman in a suit, tie and trench coat.
He practically exuded wealth.  She snapped her gaze back to the clock. 
Midnight.  Shit.  Most of her customers would be well into their cups by
now.  This could get ugly.

   The suit approached the bar and wiped off a section with a silk
handkerchief produced from his coat pocket.  Resting his arms on the
slightly cleaner patch of bar, he peered about with a look of amiable
curiosity.  His actions were met with a collective jeer from the rest of
the patrons and many of the leather and chain clad crowd began to close in.
"Dammit," Alicia whispered to herself, "only two more hours to go and now I
have to deal with this bullshit."

   She hurried down the length of the bar until she was opposite the suit.
Leaning over she rapidly whispered, "Excuse me, sir, but I really think you
would be much happier at the Rosebud Lounge down the street."

   He turned his cool, oblivious gaze to her and said, "Oh, no.  This place
has just the atmosphere I was looking for."

   Alicia grunted in exasperation.  "Look, sir.  A lot of the guys here are
drunk as hell.  If you don't leave now, you might get hurt." Alicia wished
this rich asshole would just take the hint and leave; she didn't want to
have to go through the hassle of dealing with the cops.

   He reached out and patted her hand with cold, smooth fingers while
chuckling politely as if she had told a joke, "I'll be fine, my dear.  I
won't be rousted by a bunch of vagabonds and vermin."

   Alicia winced.  A number of the men had been more than close enough to
hear the insult.  One of her regulars, a beefy man named Stan, who was
standing at the bar near the suit, immediately began to posture, pushing
his chest out and shoulders back.  The display reminded Alicia of a show
she had seen on Animal Planet about territorial fights between silverback
gorillas.

   Stan moved forward, pushing his chest into that of the suit.  "What did
you call me, faggot?" Stan shouted.  Alicia rolled her eyes; originality
was apparently not one of Stan's strong points.

   The suit slowly looked Stan over, a sneer of disgust twisting his
features.  "I believe the term applicable to you, Stan, would be 'vermin.'"

   The wrongness of the whole situation suddenly hit Alicia like a brick.
She wanted to scream, to tell Stan, to tell everyone, to run.  The suit
obviously wasn't drunk or stupid.  He had to be a cop, or have a gun or...
something.  With widening eyes, she recalled the rumor that it hadn't been
a gang that wiped out the SWAT team the night before, as it had said in the
newspaper, but a single unarmed man.  Suddenly, it seemed that everything
was moving in slow motion.  She saw Stan's arm cock back, a stupid smile
plastered across his face.  She wanted to dive across the bar and stop him,
but her legs were frozen in place.  Stan's arm started forward, and it
seemed to Alicia that the suit turned his face to her and winked, but in
the blink of an eye the suit was again staring at Stan, a look of mild
amusement on his face.  Stan's fist came around in a vicious haymaker which
rapidly closed in on the suit's head.  When it seemed that the only image
that yet remained to be seen was that of the suit flying back in a spray of
blood, the suit's hand moved in a blur, catching Stan's fist less than an
inch from his cheek.  Stan's arm came to a complete stop in an instant, the
backlash of its thwarted momentum staggering him.

   Stan twisted and pulled, trying to free his fist, but it might as well
have been stuck in stone.  The suit stood motionless, continuing to stare
at Stan dispassionately, showing no sign of strain from resisting Stan's
frantic struggles.  And then the suit smiled, the tips of long sharp fangs
showing between his parted lips.  Alicia felt hot urine run down her leg.

   A terrible, crackling sound emanated from where the suit's hand gripped
Stan's fist.  Alicia saw a few drops of blood run down the suit's wrist to
his shirt sleeve.  The drops became a trickle which became a stream which
turned into a river.  Stan stared at the gush of blood with eyes wide in
disbelief, and then he screamed in terrible agony, slumping downwards as
his knees went weak.  The suit's other hand blurred across his body before
striking out at Stan with a viscous backhand that flung Stan across the
room, the ruins of his crushed hand leaving a trail of scarlet droplets
behind him.

   The rest of the men in the bar closed in on the suit, alcohol and
natural belligerence overcoming common sense.  The suit danced sinuously
among the mob, dodging pool cues, bar stools, fists and feet with ease. 
Every few seconds the suit struck out with fist or foot and another of the
bar's patrons fell backwards clutching at a shattered face or broken limb.
Hot, thick fluid splashed across Alicia's face and she fell, vomiting, to
the floor.

   Arthur reveled in the physical combat, not bothering to change or bring
his will to bear.  In less than a minute the bar's patrons lay about him
groaning in pain, those still conscious cowering from him in fear.  Arthur
reached down near his feet and grabbed one of the men by his greasy hair,
using it to pull the man to his feet.  As the man whimpered in terror,
Arthur's head thrust forward, his fangs sinking deeply into the man's
throat.  Arthur drank deeply, shuddering with the pleasure of feeding,
until the man's heart came to a stumbling halt.  Throwing the dry husk
casually to the side, Arthur moved on to the next man and repeated the
process.  When he, too, had been drained and discarded, Arthur moved among
all the others in the room, pausing occasionally to regurgitate the blood
of his last victims to make room for the blood of the next.  When he
finally leaned back against the bar with a sigh of satisfaction, all
seventeen men in the room were dead, but no necks had been broken.  Ferals
were difficult to control, but Arthur felt up to the task.

   With a grunt of sudden recollection, Arthur locked the door and then
walked to the back of the bar, briefly concentrating his will to clean his
suit of blood as he did.  When he rounded the end of the bar he looked down
into the terrified eyes of the woman who lay trembling on the floor.

   Arthur smiled down upon her malevolently, "Well, hello there, Alicia. 
Hiding from me?  What a poor hostess you are.  It may take several hours
for our friends to awake, but I know that you'll keep me entertained while
we wait.  Yes?"

   Arthur reached down and placed his forefinger under Alicia's chin,
applying enough upward pressure to make her stand.  He ran his eyes slowly
up and down the trembling woman.  She had been beautiful once, he decided,
but only a shadow of that beauty still remained.  Years of disappointment,
poverty and substance abuse had taken their toll.

   Taking her chin in his hand, Arthur tilted her head from side to side,
examining it from every angle.  Her features were well proportioned, her
cheek bones high and delicate, but deep lines around her mouth and eyes
gave her a perpetually worn and bitter look.  Her nose, while straight and
well shaped, was traced with veins and broken blood vessels due to the
profligate use of alcohol.

   Arthur held a finger up in front of Alicia's nose and her brown eyes
crossed slightly as she attempted to focus on it.  She gasped in fear and
her eyes widened as the tip of that finger lengthened and curved into a
cruel, sharp talon.  Arthur drew the talon slowly along the quivering skin
of her face, then down that of her throat and chest until he reached the
neckline of her low cut sweater.  There he slashed it quickly downwards,
slicing easily through the polyester of her sweater, the naugahyde of her
belt, the denim of her jeans and the cotton of her bra and panties.  Arthur
brushed at the ruined clothing with his unchanged fingers and it fell into
a pile behind Alicia, leaving her nude before him.

   Her breasts were large and heavy, though gravity and time had made them
sag significantly.  Alicia drew in her breath sharply as Arthur traced the
talon around one of her large areola, small beads of blood rising from her
skin in its wake.  Arthur then drew the claw lightly down the center of her
stomach, noting that while it was still relatively flat, the flesh was
overly soft and deeply lined with stretch marks from a long ago pregnancy.
When he reached the thick, black bush of pubic hair, still damp and matted
from her earlier loss of bladder control, his mouth twisted in distaste. 
Turning the claw sideways against her skin, he drew it slowly across the
top of the mass of hair, leaving only stubble behind it.

   Arthur reached up to her head and grabbed a handful of her short black
hair.  He twisted until, with a grimace of pain, she was forced to turn
around, giving him the opportunity to examine her from behind.  Although
her hips flared out nicely, her buttocks sagged and they, and her upper
thighs, were thick with cellulite.  Arthur ran the talon along the curve of
one of her ass cheeks, stopping when he reached the center to circle it
lightly over the delicate skin of her anus.  His lips curved in a smile of
satisfaction as she whimpered.

   He leaned into her back and whispered in her ear, "Shame on you, dear,
for taking such poor care of yourself.  If I had any alternate sources of
entertainment, I would surely kill you and move on."

   Arthur suddenly released her and pushed her roughly in the direction of
the sink behind the bar.  "Now clean your piss off of yourself.  You
disgust me," he commanded.

   Sobbing in fear and humiliation, Alicia dipped a bar rag in the basin of
soapy water and did as she was told.

   When she had completed her task, Arthur unzipped his pants and pulled
out the thickest, ugliest dick that Alicia had ever seen.  "Suck my cock,
Alicia," Arthur ordered, "And remember that your life may depend on how
well you please me."

   Alicia's sobs grew more violent and tears ran down her cheeks as she
moved timidly toward him.  When he began to tap his foot impatiently, she
dropped quickly to her knees and leaned forward to take him into her mouth.

   Arthur's eyebrows rose in surprise; the woman was actually doing a
commendable job despite her obvious terror; sucking lightly while bobbing
her mouth up and down more than half of his length.  Still, it wouldn't do
to let her know that she was pleasing him.

   "You are pathetic, girl.  Do I have to show you how to do everything?"
he hissed as he again grabbed a handful of her hair.  Using her hair as a
handle, he forced her mouth rapidly up and down his entire length, forcing
the end of his cock repeatedly into the entrance of her throat and beyond.
It left her choking and gagging, but he ignored the pleading look in her
wide watering eyes.

   Finally tiring of the game, Arthur pushed her away from him until his
dick fell from her lips.  Pulling her to her feet by her hair, he spun her
around and thrust her face down over the bar.  Reaching between her legs he
flicked one of his unchanged nails hard against her clit, making her jump
and wince with pain.  Quickly moving in behind her he forced himself fully
into her dry canal with a single thrust, causing her to grasp the edge of
the bar tightly while emitting a groan like a wounded animal.

   Even as Arthur drove his cock into Alicia's defenseless body, he drove
his will into her mind, making her relive every disappointment, every
betrayal and every humiliation that she had ever experienced from the time
she was a child.  The sheer volume of those memories surprised Arthur, even
while opening his mind to a possibility not heretofore considered.  As the
flashing of the unwanted memories through her brain slowed and came to a
stop, Alicia threw her head back with a forlorn and despondent wail. 
Squeezing her eyes shut, she collapsed limply across the bar, responding
even to the ongoing brutal violation of her body with only the tiniest of
whimpers.

   Arthur leaned forward over her sweat slicked body.  "Don't quit on me
yet, Alicia," he hissed in her ear, "we've just barely begun."

   Arthur concentrated briefly and the fingers on his non-taloned hand
fused and lengthened, forming a single long, thick digit.  Arthur traced
the newly enlarged finger down the crack of Alicia's ass until he reached
the wrinkled skin of her anus.  There he lightly rubbed the tip around the
pucker.

   This gentle caress roused Alicia from her stupor.  Her eyes snapped open
and she whimpered, "Not there.  Please not there."

   Amusement in his voice, Arthur whispered in reply, "Yes, Alicia. 
There." Arthur thrust the thick digit fully into the writhing woman's ass,
pushing effortlessly past the defensively clenched muscles of her
sphincter. Arthur synchronized the movements of the great finger with the
thrusts of his cock in her cunt and smiled as her screams began anew.

   After what seemed to Alicia to be an endless eternity, Arthur suddenly
withdrew completely from her body.  Taking her hips in his still modified
hands, he roughly and easily flipped her over onto her back and moved
forward to penetrate her again, this time pushing his cock into her red,
swollen and abraded asshole while plunging the enhanced finger into her
cunt.

   Sensing that Alicia was becoming inured even to this, Arthur leaned
forward and took the tip of one of her heavy breasts into his mouth,
sucking lightly on her nipple before extending his fangs into the soft and
delicate skin of the areola.  His bite had its usual effect: she reared up
in agony as the pain from her cruelly pierced flesh sliced through her
brain and then her body went rigid, all of her muscles clenching at once,
as a fiery orgasm blazed through her, suffusing every ounce of her flesh.

   Arthur detected movement out of the corner of his eye and regretfully
concluded that he would have to bring his time with Alicia to a close. 
While continuing to thrust his cock violently in and out of her ass, he
removed his fangs from the tender, bleeding flesh of her breast and pulled
the great finger from her twat.  After returning his fused hand to its
normal state, he leaned over her writhing body and pressed his lips to her
ear.

   He whispered, "All your life people have hurt you, betrayed you,
subjected you to humiliations without end.  How does that make you feel,
Alicia?"

   The intense agony and exquisite pleasure that warred for dominance in
her overloaded brain prevented Alicia from dissembling or telling anything
less than the truth.  "I hate it.  I hate them," she panted.

   "Who do you mean by 'them', Alicia?"

   "Everyone," she whimpered.

   "And what would you like to do to 'them', Alicia?"

   She cried out, "I want them to hurt!  I...  I want them to suffer."

   "Good girl," Arthur said approvingly before lowering his mouth to her
neck and biting deep.  Even as Alicia cried out in another unwilling
orgasm, the hot, thick blood rushing down Arthur's throat spawned its own
reaction.  As he felt his pleasure rise, Arthur thrust his cock fully into
her ass and fired his lifeless seed into the depths of her bowels.

   When Arthur felt her heart begin to falter, fluttering like a fragile
bird within the cage of her ribs, he disengaged briefly and slashed open
his shoulder with the talon.  Pulling her mouth to the gaping wound, Arthur
commanded, "Drink, Alicia.  Drink deeply."

   At first Alicia's cool, blue tinted lips lay slackly on Arthur's
shoulder.  Then he felt her tongue extend slowly to take a first tentative
taste of his cool fluids.  That first dainty touch of her tongue became
broad laps before she finally clamped her lips over the gaping wound and
sucked deeply, greedily.  Caressing the back of her head, Arthur crooned,
"That's it, Alicia.  Drink!" Arthur lowered his mouth back down to her
throat and drained her until her breath came out in a gurgling rattle and
her lips fell lifelessly from his shoulder.

   Turning his attention toward the bar room, Arthur noted that three of
the faux bikers were already pulling themselves to their feet and several
others were twitching violently.  The three who were standing turned toward
Arthur, their faces were hideous masks of bestial fury.

   Arthur knew that the next few seconds were critical.  The bond between
Master and fledgling existed even with ferals, but it was greatly
complicated by their inability to comprehend language.  To bring them under
control, Arthur had to quickly dredge up images from the tattered remnants
of their memories which would convey his purpose to them.  It was a precise
and exacting exercise; no longer possessing the ability to reason, a feral
would be unable to deduce Arthur's intent if the instructions he gave in
imagery were even the slightest bit ambiguous.  Were he too slow or his
instructions less than precise, the feral would move to attack Arthur and
the bond would strike it dead.

   Arthur worked feverishly for the next half hour.  Of the seventeen
former bar patrons, thirteen had risen.  Arthur had taken control of all
but one of these.  That one's memories had been even more fragmented than
the others and Arthur had been unable to piece together instructions before
the feral attacked.  Undeterred by the pain caused by its intent, it had
rushed across the room with arms outstretched, only to fall lifeless to the
floor as its fingers closed on Arthur's throat.  Still, Arthur was
satisfied; less had risen than he had hoped, but, in the end, he had more
ferals under control than he had dared to expect.

   For a time, Arthur paraded his new minions to and fro across the bar
floor, perfecting the art of controlling them.  Once satisfied with his
skill, he gathered his ferals by the door, and tossed Alicia over his
shoulder in preparation for departure.  As he reached for the lock a sudden
thought occurred to him which resulted in his dropping Alicia's limp form
to the floor.  Arthur quickly searched through the clothing of all of the
former patrons, feral and the truly dead alike, and collected the knives he
found in pockets, shirt sleeves and boot tops.  Arthur then carried one of
the corpses to the bar and used the knives to spike it into place, its
staring, sightless eyes facing toward the door.  Placing his thumbs over
the death glazed orbs, Arthur delved again into Lei's gift and muttered a
brief incantation.  Pulling his hands away with a grunt of satisfaction, he
again draped Alicia over his shoulder and led his pack of ferals out into
the night.

   Extending his senses to the fullest, Arthur guided the ferals southward
through a maze of streets and alleys, choosing his path to avoid witnesses
where possible, blurring memories where it was not.  Soon they had left the
towers of steel, glass and concrete behind and, twenty minutes and seven
miles later, the pack entered the town of Pleasant Hills, wherein resided
one James Bollinger, former opera lover turned fledgling.

   They entered the Bollinger residence through a set of large Bilco doors
which led to an unfinished, windowless basement.  Arthur got the ferals
settled in among the neatly labeled cardboard boxes that cluttered the
large room with orders not to move until commanded differently.  He then
dumped Alicia's limp and still apparently lifeless body in front of the
door to a small bathroom before heading up the stairs to the house proper.

   When Arthur entered the living room, he found his fledgling sitting on
the couch, his face endlessly shifting in change as he struggled to perfect
his duplication of Arthur's features.  Arthur watched with interest for a
moment; given the limited ability of new fledglings to change, James was
doing quite well.

   Arthur moved to take a seat opposite the fledgling, "You may stop,
Jimmy."

   James' face immediately ceased rippling and he turned to look at his
Master impassively.

   Arthur snorted derisively, "You should know by now, Jimmy, that it
doesn't matter if you have a face like a sea boot, I can feel your
resentment, your hate, your despair."

   In a voice hot with anger, James answered, "How can you expect any
different?  You raped my wife in front of me!  You turned me into a
monster! You made me drink my wife's blood!  You made me kill her!" The
anger drained suddenly and he continued in a small, wheedling voice, "You
have already taken all that I have, why can't you just let me die?"

   With a cold smile, Arthur replied, "Oh, you will die, Jimmy.  Have no
doubt of that.  But only when your death will be of benefit to me.  Now, on
to a matter of actual importance.  Have several heavily armed men arrived
yet?"

   "Yes, Master.  They are in the bedrooms upstairs.  They wished for me to
tell you that they will be up and on duty by dawn."

   "Excellent.  Go to the basement and prepare for dormancy.  Do not
disturb any of the others that are there."

   James stood and exited the room.  As he passed through the doorway to
the basement, Arthur called after him, "Oh, and Jimmy?  You have my
permission to weep, if you wish."

   As James descended into the cellar, accompanied by the sound of Arthur's
contemptuous laughter, cold tears ran down his cheeks.

   After he had dismissed the fledgling, Arthur spoke the companion
incantation to that which he had uttered at the bar.  He then settled back
into the couch to wait for the police to arrive at the scene of the carnage
so he could watch and assess them through the eyes of a dead man.

   Chapter 14

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   "Keys are in it."

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

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

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

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

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

   Mia looked dubious, "Sunrise is..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   "Very bad," Tom replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Chapter 15

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



   Chapter 16

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

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

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

   They quickly repeated the work with identical results.

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

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

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

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

   "Sounds good.  See you later."

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

   Making the preparations took a good bit longer than Tom had hoped; it
took several calls from the chief before the frantic building administrator
allowed Tom to commandeer the maintenance personnel and use them to clear
the room of its clutter of desks, computers and other office furniture.  It
had then taken Mark's arrival and expert bullying before the administrator
permitted Tom to have a huge wooden chair, specially commissioned by an
especially corpulent former judge, carried to the room and bolted securely
to the floor adjacent to the wall opposite the entrance hallway.  When they
told the distraught functionary what they planned on doing to the water
reservoir for the sprinkler system, the man had thrown his hands up in the
air in disgust and stalked off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Tom and Mark both answered with a nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Tom nodded grimly, "Understood, Chief."



   Chapter 17



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

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

   Even as she walked towards the bathroom door, she wondered at her lack
of fear.  As she considered this, she realized that there were a number of
things that were glaringly wrong with the situation, even beyond the
obvious fact that she was naked in an unknown basement: What was that knot
of emotion, of cold, hard resolve, that she could feel in her mind but
which didn't seem to truly be a part of her?; What was that odd, coppery
taste in her mouth that made part of her want to be violently ill but made
another, larger, part of her hunger?; and, Why did she feel no chill even
though she could tell that the cement floor was freezing cold?

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

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

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

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

   "Yes," the voice answered simply.

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

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

   As the man turned to leave, Alicia called out, "Wait!  Who are you?"

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

   A protest began to rise to her lips but died before it was even half
formed.  With a nod she said, "Yes, Master."

   As her Master again turned to leave, Alicia called out again, "Master?"

   "Yes, Alicia?"

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

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

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

   When her bladder was finally empty, Alicia stood and moved to again face
the mirror.  Timidly, she leaned forward and pulled her lips back, but
could see no difference in her teeth from the way they were before.  Still
looking into the mirror, she opened her mouth.  When it was fully open, her
canines slid downwards, extending into three inch long fangs.  She fell
backwards with a cry, suddenly recalling fangs, nearly identical to the
ones in her mouth, being revealed by a smile, sinking into her breast, and
biting into her throat.

   For a long while, Alicia sat huddled on the floor, her knees clasped
tightly to her chest, her mind in turmoil.  "There are no such things as
vampires; they do not, they can not, exist!" she whispered to herself over
and over again.  But the evidence was undeniable.  She looked down her body
while considering the benefits of what she had become.  Finally, her mind
again calm, Alicia rose smoothly to her feet and turned toward the shower.
Her Master wanted her clean.

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

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

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

   As she followed her Master across the room, she added an extra swing to
her hips, laughing quietly as she heard the men's hearts beat even faster.
Her Master led her down another hallway and through a door.  Inside the
room, a man knelt on his knees.  His hands and feet were tied; his mouth
gagged.  He stared up at Alicia and her Master with eyes that were wide and
fearful, and Alicia heard his breath quicken and become shallow as his
heart began to race.

   The room was filled with the most deliciously wonderful aroma that
Alicia had ever experienced.  Eyes closed in sensory euphoria, she wove her
head from side to side trying to home in on the source of the incredible
smell.  Following the strongest concentrations of the scent, Alicia moved
slowly into the room.  She leaned forward and realized that the scent was
stronger closer to the floor.  She dropped to her hands and knees and
continued to slowly crawl forward until her hands encountered an obstacle.
She opened her eyes and saw that it was the bound man.  His eyes had opened
even wider, nearly bugging out of his head, and, even through the gag, she
could hear his muffled screams.

   She suddenly knew that the man was the source of the heavenly aroma. 
Effortlessly, she threw him onto his back, and dropped her head to his
stomach.  Inhaling deeply she slid the side of her face up the man's
stomach and chest; her nipples became painfully erect as they rubbed
against the rough fabric of his shirt.  Soon she was straddling him, her
head even with his throat.  Breathing heavily, she nuzzled her nose into
the side of his neck while she twined her arms around his shoulders in a
tight embrace.  She could tell from the man's frantic struggles that their
combined weight was hurting the hands which were trapped behind his back,
but she didn't care.

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

   The scent was even stronger along the prisoner's throat and the line of
his jaw.  Pulling herself ever more closely against him, she extended her
tongue and ran it over the taut muscles of his neck.  The taste of his
sweat brought a moan from her lips; it was everything the scent had
promised and more.  Alicia reared forward so she could lick at his face and
ears.  As she did so, her clit rubbed against his lower stomach, sending an
almost electrical jolt through her body.  She could feel her cunt moisten.
Even as she continued to run her tongue up and down the skin of his face,
she began to hump her hips slowly and sensuously into his stomach.

   Alicia slid the left side of her face up along the right side of his,
rubbed her chin over the crown of his head and then completed the circle by
moving the right side of her face down along his left until her mouth was
again at this throat.  There she traced her tongue over his Adam's apple,
which bobbed and quivered at her touch.  Her tongue slid to the side until
she could feel his rapid pulse.  As she lightly kissed a trail up and down
the artery, she felt a ravenous hunger rising within her and her canines
extended and locked into place.  Yielding to instinct, she bit into his
defenseless throat, and, as his hot, thick blood jetted into her mouth, her
body exploded in orgasm.

   His scent shifted slightly, and she somehow knew that he was climaxing
as well.  Ripping her mouth from his throat, she lifted her chest off of
his and tore away his gag, heedless of the blood that sprayed briefly over
her chin and breasts before his wounds miraculously sealed.  She lunged
forward and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply and tenderly; her
excitement only heightened when he screamed his terror into her mouth.

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

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

   Alicia lifted herself from the lifeless form of the captive and turned
to stare at Arthur with wild eyes; the emotions that fed back to him
through the bond were far too chaotic to read.  "Is it always like this?"
she whispered.

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

   Arthur sighed with disappointment when she charged at him; he'd had high
hopes for this one.i He could stop her with a single command, of course,
but, if she were going to reject the gift to the point of violence, it
would probably be best for her to die now.  The last thing he needed was
another rebellious fledgling.  So, he stood and watched calmly as she
rapidly closed the gap between them, waiting for her to drop lifelessly to
the floor next to her prey at the culmination of her attack.

   But she didn't die.  Arthur was too surprised to react as she hurled him
to the floor and squatted over him.  He felt her fumble with his belt and
then with his zipper before she reached into his pants to fish out his
cock; stroking it rapidly until it stood erect.  Arthur stared up at her in
shock as she mounted him, taking him fully inside her dripping wet cunt in
one violent plunge.  She began to raise and lower herself on him with
increasing rapidity until her hips were a blur of sensuous motion.  The
room was filled with the susurrus of the soft skin of her thighs rubbing
against the silk of his suit and the staccato rhythm of the cheeks of her
ass slapping violently into his upper thighs.

   After riding Arthur hard for several minutes, Alicia abruptly dropped
down onto his chest and pressed her lips hard against his.  Then, just as
suddenly, she broke the kiss and reared upwards, her canines extending to
their fullest length.  Pain lanced through Arthur as Alicia's fangs sank
into his shoulder, her tongue lapping at the fluids that oozed from the
wound.  As Arthur felt himself begin to climax in response to her bite, he
twisted his head and sank his own fangs into the soft skin of her neck. 
Their bodies twitched and spasmed and moans exploded loudly and
continuously from their throats as the orgasmic power of the vampire's bite
fed back on itself in a closed loop.

   After an eternal moment, they disengaged their fangs almost
simultaneously; the sensation had simply become too great.  For several
more minutes, they laid limp and panting on the floor.  The moment was
finally broken when Alicia nipped lightly at Arthur's ear and whispered,
"Thank you," over and over again.  Then, without prompting, she rotated her
body around so that she could take his softening member into her mouth,
cleaning it of their combined fluids.

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

   Alicia responded as her bond required, "Yes, Master."

   Arthur exited the house into the garage where he met up with his waiting
minions.  As the garage door opened, Arthur's expanded senses detected a
police officer watching the house intently from an unmarked car.  Even as
the policeman lifted the mic of his radio to his lips, Arthur reached out
with his will and burned away the man's memory of the preceding week.  The
policeman looked around in dazed confusion, barely noticing Arthur
strolling casually toward him with a friendly smile on his face.

   When Arthur reached the unmarked car, he punched forward as his
fingernails lengthened and grew sharp.  His fist passed through the
hardened windshield as easily as his claws passed through the skin,
cartilage and muscle of the policeman's throat.

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



   Chapter 18



   Mia awoke to find Tom lying stretched out on the bed next to her.  A
gentle smile appeared on his face as he watched her eyes open.  She rolled
over into his embrace, bringing her lips to his.

   As their lips parted, he smiled again and whispered, "Good morning."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   As Tom turned to make yet another pass in front of the van, the call
came from the Chief; they have their warrant.  Within seconds the team was
loaded and the van was underway.  Twenty minutes later they pulled to a
stop in front of the Bollinger residence and the team quickly offloaded and
assembled in the yard.

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

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

   Tom had his radioman call for the CSI unit while the rest of the team
began a more thorough search of the premises.  He was moving to join them
when his cell phone rang.

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

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

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

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

   "Already on the way, boss.  We decided to wait to call you until Mia
could make certain that Arthur was after her, rather than just moving
towards us by coincidence.  He changed direction to track our movements, so
it's pretty damn certain."

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

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

   "Everything's all set, boss.  The garlic's in the reservoir," Mark
yelled as he ran towards the other members of the team.  While en route, he
paused for a moment to pull the fire alarm.  Immediately water reeking of
garlic burst from the sprinkler system..

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

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

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

   A man in an expensive suit followed closely by a number of men in
tattered and bloody leather appeared at the entrance to the building.  With
impossible speed they rapidly closed in on the police line.  A few of the
intruders sprouted arrows from chests, arms and legs.  Only one fell. 
Halfway down the passage, the man in the suit slowed and allowed his
followers to overtake and pass him.  All of the undead had developed large,
seeping sores and blisters wherever the water had touched them.  The only
one who even appeared to notice was the one that Tom took to be Arthur and
his response was limited to a pained and angry glance at the sprinklers.

   The intruders hit the line of blue with a tremendous crash.  Tom thrust
his spear forward at the chest of a huge biker whose eyes were devoid of
anything resembling sanity.  In his peripheral vision he saw another of the
bikers, impaled through the shoulder, push itself forward with no regard
for the spear that drove ever deeper into its flesh until it could reach
the officer holding the dowel.  The officer fell backwards, his face and
chest in ruins.

   The line began to buckle.  As Tom pulled his spear from the chest of his
target, he observed Mark fly through the air, his arms windmilling.  Mark
impacted against the opposite wall with a meaty thud and fell limply to the
floor.  Then Tom was forced to return his attention to the battle as
another vampire in tattered biker regalia tore the throat from one of Tom's
men and turned toward Tom.

   The line collapsed.  As the newest biker came at Tom with an animalistic
growl, Tom heard one of his men scream in agony as two of the ferals, one
at the man's shoulders and the other at his feet, lift him from the floor
and struggle for control over their prey.  With a crackling of bone and the
wet sound of tearing skin and muscle, the man's legs were pulled from his
body.  Tom drove his improvised spear into the chest of his latest
attacker, but slipped on the blood coating the floor and fell to his knees.
Before he could regain his feet, the vampire in the suit twisted sinuously
by him penetrating to the center of the room.  He came to a halt directly
in front of Mia.

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

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

   In the depths of the hood of her rain coat, Tom could see Mia's face
contort in horror and sorrow.  She pulled violently at the chains holding
her and Tom could hear the creaking of strained wood.  The creaking became
splintering as the chair sundered.  Mia stood easily despite the more than
five hundred pounds of chains draped across her.  The chains, no longer
anchored by the stout chair, fell from her limbs to pile at her feet.  Her
eyes tightened in concentration and the modified leg irons that bound her
arms slipped loosely from wrists that had shrunk with change.  She looked
down at the leg irons on her ankles and, even over the din of combat, Tom
heard the clicks of locks disengaging.

   Mia's Master, ignoring the arrows that continued to sprout from him,
turned back toward the entrance and began to run, twisting and dodging past
the bowmen who are now fighting a running battle with the ferals.  As he
reached the spot where the spear line once stood, Dana, her neck a bloody
mess and crossbow long gone, pushed herself up from the floor with the
splintered remnants of a spear in her hands.  He twisted to avoid her, but
it was too late.  Dana threw herself forward to put all of her weight
behind the thrust of her spear and it struck true and deep into the center
of his chest.  He gazed down at the protruding wood with an odd, beatific
smile on his blistered lips before his eyes became fixed and dull.  Slowly
he fell to the floor next to the limp and motionless form of his slayer.

   Across the room, Mia suddenly released the terrified bowman that she
held from the floor by the throat.  Her head snapped around to watch as her
Master fell.  A look of wonder and exultation appeared on her face as the
bonds of compulsion and the knot of emotion that was her Master evaporated
to nothingness.  Glancing quickly around the room she picked out the
densest concentration of ferals and headed toward them in a blur of motion.



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

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

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

   Noticing that the flow of water from the sprinklers had slowed to the
merest of trickles, Mia decided to risk a change that would expose her
skin. Pieces of the rubber glove that had covered her left hand fell to the
floor as her nails extended into sharp talons and bony spikes grew from the
back of her hand.

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

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

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

   Mia's thoughts were interrupted by a small, bubbling groan from the
slight body that laid next to that of her Master.  Mia knelt by Dana and
gently turned her over onto her back, wincing at the sight of the grievous
injuries that the woman had sustained.  Mia could not imagine how the woman
was managing to cling to life.  Hearing footsteps behind her, Mia said,
"Call for an ambulance.  She will need a great deal of blood."

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

   Mia nodded in response, but her attention was focused on Dana.  "You
saved all of us," she whispered fiercely, "Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

   As Tom eased himself down to sit next to his friend, Mark started
laughing but his laughter was quickly cut short by a groan of pain as he
clutched his ribs even more tightly.

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

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

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

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

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

   Tom followed the direction of Mark's gaze and his jaw dropped open in
astonishment.  "Well," he replied as he got to his feet, "at least Dana
seems to be feeling better."

   When Mia's tongue at last left only unmarked skin in its wake, she
pulled back and gazed with concern at the pale, drawn face of the fallen
woman.  Dana's eyes fluttered open and she struggled to focus on Mia.  With
a look of determination, Dana raised an arm weakly until she was able to
curl her hand around the back of Mia's neck.  Mia looked at the other woman
with confusion for a moment before she opened her senses and allowed
awareness of Dana's emotional state to flood into her.  A small sympathetic
smile appeared on Mia's lips as she allowed Dana to draw her down until
their lips touched.

   Dana's kiss was far more passionate than Mia would have expected given
Dana's physical state.  Soon Dana's tongue stretched out to probe at Mia's
lips, and Mia opened her mouth slightly to allow it entrance.  Mia tried to
return the kiss as passively as possible, not wanting to take any action
that would cause offense once Dana fully returned to her senses.  Still,
she couldn't resist sucking lightly on Dana's tongue as it explored the
front of Mia's mouth.

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

   Reluctantly, Mia broke the kiss and lightly brushed the blood soaked
hair back from Dana's face.  "You're going to be ok," Mia whispered softly,
"but you need to go to the hospital.  Are you ready?" After Dana nodded,
Mia gathered the woman gently into her arms like a child and carried her to
the entrance and the waiting paramedics.

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

   The Chief gazed grimly at the remaining carnage for a few minutes before
he asked, "Is it over, Tom?"

   "I don't know, Denny.  We still have a few bodies that are unaccounted
for," Tom replied.



   When the Chief raised an eyebrow in query, Tom quickly explained.

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

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

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

   "Uh, Chief...," Tom began.

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

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

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

   With a disgusted grimace, Tom muttered, "Couldn't you at least pretend
to be weary to soothe the ol' male ego?  Hell, you're not even dirty!"

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

   "Huh?" Tom answered intelligently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   They burst from the shower stall and hastily dried themselves off before
running to the bedroom, giggling like schoolchildren.  Mia jumped onto the
bed and began to crawl to the other side when Tom stopped her by grasping
her hips.  They both groaned in ecstacy as Tom slid into her wet depths
from behind.  Tom knew that there were times to be gentle, but this wasn't
one of them.  He immediately began to plunge forcefully in and out of her,
his loins smacking loudly against the upthrust cheeks of her ass with each
thrust.

   Mia cried out as she again exploded in orgasm and fell forward onto her
stomach; her eyes closed as she savored the sensations that his cock was
evoking inside of her.  Undeterred, Tom moved with her, easing onto the bed
to straddle her thighs; his forays into the tight, wet folds of her cunt
were barely interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

   Mia moved in a blur and Tom squeaked in surprise as he was suddenly
lifted from the bed and twisted around before being deposited firmly onto
his back.  Mia straddled him and took his length fully back inside of her.
He could immediately feel the difference as folds of moist soft flesh moved
caressingly up and down the length of his cock.

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

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

   At last Mia broke the kiss and returned her mouth to its normal form. 
As she raised her upper body, Tom could see her fangs descend into place.

   "Curious?" she asked coyly.

   Tom nodded his assent, and Mia lowered her mouth to his chest where she
gently pierced his skin with her elongated canines.  She shuddered in
orgasm as she felt his cock erupt deep inside of her.  Her orgasm continued
and grew as she lapped at the blood that seeped slowly from the shallow
wounds that she had inflicted.  When they were both sated, Mia licked at
the slight punctures to close them and rose until she could gaze softly
into his eyes.

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

   Completely and fully happy for the first time in her existence, Mia
snuggled into the chest of her lover.  The pair continued their lovemaking
until dawn, Mia restoring her lover's vigor with small bites any time it
threatened to wane.


(continued)
-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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