I walk pensively down the street no longer enthralled by the smell of him; I stop and look at the card that the dead girl dropped. Why hadn’t I seen it before? The Jack of Hearts, red dandy Jack with a hole in his face. I twiddle the card in my hand and twitch slightly as I feel my hackles raise, sharpen and point. Whoever this vampire is, I need to see him, assess him and feel him deep within me before I wipe out his existence. A slow smile works its way across my lips, because there would be blood, and lots of it. Many weeks had gone by since I was hunted and reliving the thrill turned that little smile into a grin. I held my head back and smiled up at the starry night.
Still, there was the business of the card. Moving purposefully, deep in thought, I thought about everything and nothing. I’m not used to being toyed with and I don’t play cards. Thinking back to the young girl who lay crumbled up in front of my old apartment building, no doubt blending in as an oddity by my old bench, I stirred at thoughts of how splendid in form she was; long, thin neck, bursting veins flowing with what I needed. Maybe I shouldn’t have killed her, I thought as I licked my lips.
When I stopped, I wasn’t familiar with my locale, I mean, I had been here before, more than likely rushed through the area picking up nuances of focal points as I ran for my life. What stopped me cold in my tracks was the lingering smell of blood, fresh blood. I let my nose lead me to the spot and there was lots of it. There was also a human, a man very dead on the spot.
Toying with the card in my hand, I gazed at the moon as if for answers and smoothed the card gently placing it inside my coat pocket. I stared at the man quizzically; he did not belong to this blood. No, this blood was different, familiar, my hackles nearly jumped off my neck. I kicked the man in the alligator suit, he fell over with a certain thud that only the dead can manage. His face was a photo of incredulous pain, he barely had a neck. No feelings were lost on him, for my interest was in the blood spilt. Following the trail of blood, unaware of my surroundings, I focused on the droplets; I would not remember this location either.
This was the blood of an ancient, an unknown. I knew all the ancients in the area, and none would dare threaten me as he had. We were as close to friends as vampires could be and they were afraid of my ingenuity. Why hadn’t he been? Where was he now? When I stopped again, I was in front of the Mausley Emergency room entrance. For a moment I was captivated by the flurry: nurses flashing by, toppled wheel chairs, patients starring, running and screaming. The scene was right out of a Cracker Jack box, oozing in comic and laden with fear. He was here, it was his blood, of that I was sure.
Was it to risky to track him down, probably? My eyes went back to the controlled pulse in the waiting room, if I was going to make my move, it had better be now. I walked through the doors carefully, always watching. The window through the triage was empty and the outer door stood open. There had been a patient in their, a woman and her child. Now the stools lay askew, and the women in her haste had left her large purse gaping open on the floor. It spewed with child pampers and medicine vials. The adjoining door was shut and locked. I closed my eyes and in a moment, the knob turned. Now I was in a half filled receiving area, its patients were only somewhat disturbed by the triage nurses escape. They sat patient and weary waiting on their turns. I strode through and went right into the emergency room where even more patients were lined up on gurneys and in wheel chairs, one walked along the wall with cheeks out in a hospital gown. The nurses were clearly flustered by the ruckus of a few minutes ago, they had to see ‘how bad’ even though they wouldn’t attend to the victim. Orderlies were already out cleaning up the blood.
“Treat this as a contaminant.” The Administrator delivered the directive coolly as the orderly stared unkindly. Leaning over the counter he whispered something into a nurse’s ear and backed off shouting at the clerk to have the police report on his desk in 2 hours. In his efficiency he trusted no one to do their jobs right, yet they did - fueled by low morale. He lumbered back to his office, where he could think, maybe eat of the meal his young wife so inefficiently prepared. Removing his lab coat, he sat in his great leather chair already dreading the slew of police and reporters that would soon bombard his emergency room. The victim had died under his watchful eye as he peered down from the window above the operating room; his staff had done everything right. That wasn’t the problem, the problem was a corpse lying in the morgue with six gun shot wounds close up, and this was unheard of. Six? How did the man get there? Where was he coming from? Where was the other body? And why did this happen at the end of his shift? It would be a long night and he wasn’t ready for it.
It was easy to find my way out of the emergency room and into the elevator lobby. I did not wait long and even had the whole car to myself , the same one he was carried down to the morgue in. His scent laced the walls of the elevator and even here he had dripped blood. The doors opened up to a darkened corridor and utter silence crept in. I had to find him using other senses, my sense of smell was suddenly gone. Realizing he was dead, I could not feel him and made several wrong turns before finding the Morgue door.
An orderly done for the night was leaving the morgue. He had blood splatters on his scrubs, still damp from his last job. He held a crumpled sack in his hand and a note book under his arm. I rushed at him like a bullet and slammed him back into the room he come out of before the door could shut. Once inside I hit him accurately, dead center on his temple and he fell out, dumped to the floor dead. The tall orderly who had just started his shift watched in disbelief and seem unafraid of his turn being next. He was awkward, pimply and just 3 days on the job. His first job. I flew at him before he could blink his eye, banged his neck and winced at the crack his bones made. Releasing him, I strode boldly into the set up room and found my prize zippered inside a body bag.
With the body now slung over my shoulder awkwardly I commanded the air. In a few minutes I could feel a finger of air poking me and I began walking in the direction of the pull. The corridor was long and u-shaped with out a soul in sight. I ended up in front of the door to distribution, some quarter mile away from the morgue. I walked through the doors, heard voices, saw that the overhead door was rolled up and raced through it rapidly. I don’t think anyone saw me, thank God for small favors.
I raced madly through the streets, leaping over curbs, rushing down the sidewalks in the darkened business section, startled an overworked prostitute and skirted past a slowing car. The Vampire weighed a ton and was still warm to the touch. Finally I reached the long curving, deserted road that would lead me home.
I liked my graveyard; it spread 150 acres across tree topped flat land. Upon it was set some of the oldest and grandest, never made again crypts that were nearly 200 yrs old. Some crumbled in patches but remained solidly upright, protecting their wards. Most of the land held plots for nameless Jane’s and John’s, who, unaccounted for ended up here. This was the town’s third source of revenue.
I crept slowly to the crypt of Paul T. Clooney, his body had been absent almost as soon as the doors were sealed, it would be a nice resting spot for the wounded Vampire Lord. I trudged the dirt clad steps and entered the earthy chamber below. In the center of the chamber stood a large, empty coffin, Clooney had been over 500 pounds. I lay the body in the coffin, unzipped it and began to pull it off the body, I did not look, rather focused on removing the plastic bag. Tossing it I walked back to the head of the coffin and peered at my nemesis. He was a blistering white but not mottled. Dark hair cascaded his head in troubled waves and set upon a strong neck. Rough eyebrows lay upon his pronounced brow shadowing his deeply set eyes. Hollowed cheeks, concave nose and very kissable lips were set in a dangerous face; he did not look to be asleep. I wondered what color his eyes would be. Whether he would awaken in a fury or wonder where he was.
My hand stole out to touch his still warm body, I let my fingers twirl around his nipple and dip in and out of his bullet holes. I wanted to lick them properly, filling him with my healing saliva, but he had killed mines and wanted to kill me. I let my hand, instead, rove the creases of his large muscles, through his chest hair, over his still heart, I rubbed his belly and enter his deep navel. I glanced quickly to view his sleeping form, I could have sworn I saw a faint smile. Slowly I allowed my eyes to fall back over his body. He was dead, dammit and I needed him to feel exactly what I was going to do to him. I moved down to view his unclothed sex, gasping, I stared openly, not quite lady like. I narrowed my eyes and studied him, realizing how I missed playing with my own kind. Could I touch him? Not yet, I ordered. I did however trace my finger across his groin and allowed it to slide down his hard thighs. I placed the sturdy top of the stone casket upon him, and when it was securely in place, I leaned against it. He would sleep for a while, he had to heal. I would come back later and lay upon the casket.
As I closed the door to the crypt, relocking it, I stole to the shadows trembling with need. My heart acted up, bumping within my chest and sent blood all over the place. My nostrils flared as I tried to contain myself and my eyes pierced the night in search of food. I saw him then, a younger Vampire Lord in search of the healing herbs. His kind was in battle often and always needed a good supply of herbs for the ready. He kneeled now over a fertile patch and busied himself with his chore. As I swooped down on the Vampire Lord, I was filled with eternal longing that he would not satiate. He was unsuspecting, not a threat, and I would have to remove all traces of him when I was through. That didn’t matter. I needed him.
I straddled his long back, humping him like a dog, forcing him to the ground flat. He flipped between my legs facing me, eyes incredulous as I sank into him, kissing him long and hard. My tongue batted against his cheeks, searched the thickness of his tongue and delve deep into the back of his mouth. In minutes his body responded to mines, not even a fang nip from him, so I lingered a little longer. Having dropped the herbs which he had strangled when I pounced, I could now feel his hands along my back, in my hair, he would be ready for me in a moment. I played with his lips, his keen bone structure and got lost in his eyes. As he smiled, I grew dizzy, closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was deep in his throat tearing and ripping. So much for the promise he offered. I could feel him underneath me struggling like a kitten, yet I tore at him unmercifully, slopping more blood than I was taking in. I held him fast by the shoulders and pressed into his hips and he responded with a death blow to my side.
Fully angered with dwindling pain, I snatched his clothes and skin off easily. I could see his pulsating heart underneath the bones and muscle mass; I could hear it thud madly in his chest. I wanted to kiss him again, but his eyes said no, so I crossed my fingers and went straight for his heart.
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