Monster [ Burke x Arianna ]

[MrBurke]

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, June 14th, a Tuesday. Bay City was blessed with bright blue skies, dotted with white cumulus clouds puffy enough to carry off the guise of a nice day if viewed through a window. Upon stepping outside, however, one found the world uncomfortably humid, the breeze just short of pleasant on this eighty-seven degree day. Asphalt cooked yellow paint along the city's curling streets - even passers-by in air-conditioned cars looked uncomfortable. A city baked while creatures hid in shady places everywhere.

Her telephone spoke to her grimly: “It's me.” Officer Groot was counting on the depth and seriousness of his voice to strike a chord of recognition in the younger woman. “I've got something for you.” He wouldn't elaborate, gave an address and the simple instruction, “Hurry.” Even a man so gruff as Groot was rarely as unpleasant or crass as this, but she'd never seen him on duty, only at formal functions, and men in his position do have a tendency to compartmentalize.

Detective Groot stood like a mountain on the sidewalk. He was six foot two, white hair with a bristly mustache to match, broad of shoulder and thick with flesh. He had a protruding stomach, permanent at this stage in his life, and the long fingers on his wide hands were thick with callous and scarred. He had an electricity about him, the way his eyes flickered when he looked at you, and the way he shifted his weight while he spoke gave him away as unsure about something. For someone so still and solid, he certainly did squirm, at least inside. His brown work pants were creased and formal, his white pinsripe button-down collared shirt thin against the tee-shirt beneath it, a matching blazer flat and folded over his arm with shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. A long black tie clipped onto his dress shirt, which necessitated it be closed, and he sweat, waiting for the journalist that would arrive and offer at least something to do. Until she came, he'd be standing roadside, unable to leave with nothing to do. He was tense and glad for the break, sickening images flashing in Groot's mind he knew he'd be seeing forever.

He was surrounded by police officers silently counting their blessings that the reporters had't come knocking quite yet, as they always did whenever it happened out this way, however new the atrocity. Uniformed men stood in groups and agreed on the exact times and places events took place, sure to check that one-another's notebooks matched times. One such, the searching officer, clearly a new recruit, avidly guarded a wide, ugly, secured suitcase filled with individually bagged evidential items, the case itself sitting open in the back of a cruiser awaiting approval from the forensic team.

Younger uniformed officers are typically shackled with the immense responsibility of said duty, convinced utterly of its importance and left to monitor the milk cart on their lonesome. The older men couldn't or wouldn't stomach the indignity of being relieved by duty scientists. He was six feet tall, visibly strong, if a little wide-eyed. Short brown hair was cut short around avid green eyes, a strong jaw and chin with prominent cheek bones, Russian in descent. You could tell from his look he was the type of cop who fears serious conflict enough that he feels the need to at least be able to compete physically. That goes away over the years, and the fittest cops tend to have the most to prove. Good looking, smart, he made up for lack of experience with sheer investment. He would stand there until relieved, and stood beside the car parked sideways across the driveway of a house in disarray.

The front yard and sidewalk of 1824 Riverside Terrace were surrounded with yellow caution tape and policemen fussing about in the grass lawn wearing white one-piece coveralls and yellow gloves with suction-cup face-masks, essentially combing the yard for anything worth note. Then they'd drag it to be sure with a thin, long rake and check every cigarette butt and shred of clothing they found. The walkway was keenly picked over and viewed in different light settings, but deemed clear. The tape was not taken down, however, and there were pockets of officers standing in the way of anyone getting in. Scientists in their field walked along the house's hedgeline toward the back-gate, moving through a fenceline into the backyard and up into the house's side entrance. Once in the dining room they continued to the living room and kitchen, assessing the quality of care the forensic team dedicated to overturning the scene of the crime and contributing to the team however they were meant to.

Bulky, out-of-place garbage bags sat in the side-entrance doorway, the refuse and packaging generated by the investigative team set aside while the house garbage was picked over cleanly. The kitchen had been checked, searched over and the floor tarped, the contents of various drawers emptied and organized cleanly by men in stark white uniforms reminiscent of the stereotypical hazmat suits radiation decontamination teams might wear. So far the material evidence was looking thin.

A little black mark on a windowsill of the living room, somehow overlooked, connected to a cigarette of very specific design and pattern. Discarded, it had rolled under the blinds that sat bunched in either side of the window, and hid from the exploratory team's gaze as best it could. Those blinds smelled faintly of cigarettes. A couch faced a television set diagonally, backing into a corner of the room. Behind that couch was a bloody mess, obscured by the couch, ruining the carpet forever in that corner (typically reserved for shoving piles of books by its former user). Across that room in the connected kitchen, a window was broken, and blood streaked in one specific quadrant of the drywall and framing, specifically the middle left. These areas are currently occupied with CSI and can be elaborated on if investigated further.

Everything else was as it should be, nothing stolen, nothing disturbed. Besides the pool of a person behind the couch there were no signs of a struggle. Untouched, a television played a sports channel, the techs not permitted to inspect the household appliances and computers until all the existing matter was collected and cataloged. The place was defly silent but for the shuffle of footsteps and the filtration of masks. They were close to closing up shop and releasing the crime scene, the First Officer completing his list of objectives and clearing protocol one step at a time, his control of the locked-down scene total.

People exchanged glances and muttered to one another about what a sad day it was and make tasteless humor out of desperation to cope. They reverted back to a boyish state with a head-shaking incredulous expression mixed with bouts of hushed sniggles and half-whispered jokes.

All of them, waiting, another awful day at the office.

 

[Arianna]

For a Tuesday afternoon, the press office of The Bay City Times was unusually busy. There seemed to be no shortage of misery and mayhem to report; a veritable boon to a business that thrived on exploiting human tragedy until every last ounce of it lay naked in depersonalized black and white for public consumption. Alexandra Stafford leaned in the doorway with her arms crossed, and watched with mild amusement as young interns, some with laughable ambitions, practically fell over themselves trying to be the first to do the bidding of some senior reporter. She remembered her own climb up the press ladder, which had been a vicious battle each step of the way in a business where you are only as good as your next story, but through tenacity and sheer force of will, Lexi never doubted she’d succeed. Now, as the paper’s top investigative reporter, she refused to let her grasp of power slip even one inch.

Chief Editor, David Gibbons glanced up from his desk, and saw her standing there. At sixty-two, his white hair was cut military style, and though he was considered short for a man, five foot six inches at most, he was built like the proverbial brick house. Still, people liked him because he had an easygoing countenance and his dark brown eyes never failed to relay his good sense of humour. David smirked now, certain he knew exactly what Alexandra was thinking. He met her five years ago when she was a junior reporter for the legal news department who spent her days sifting through the hundreds of mundane court cases trying to find something newsworthy. It was not the kind of assignment that typically led to glorious advancement, but somehow the woman had managed to not only turn out a decent story every day or two, but exposed a scandalous affair and corruption between a top judge and fledgling prosecutor, leading to both being arrested and charged with evidence tampering and obstruction. Of course, her promotion soon followed, but curiously, nobody looking at the thirty year old with unusual red hair and hazel eyes would ever guess at the core of steely resolve that lay underneath. Dressed simply in tight boot cut blue jeans, a white cotton tank top, black leather stiletto boots and short black leather jacket, she looked more like a young college student, but if someone could get close enough, they would get a hint of the strength and ambition that was the true Lexi. The sticking point was “if”, since the career obsessed woman seldom let anyone get too close. In a rare moment of candor over drinks one night, she told him that in her line of work, relationships of any kind were an unnecessary distraction at best and a dangerous liability at worst. Over the years, she had witnessed the brutal, ugly side of human nature too many times to believe in people, and as a result, she could count those she considered true friends on one hand. Thankfully, she considered him one of them, and as such, they made a good team. Perhaps because he was more than twice her age, he was actually proud of her, almost as though she was the daughter he never had.

Noticing David staring at her, Lexi smiled then felt her cell phone vibrating in her jacket pocket. She quickly grabbed it and turned away from the room, walking into the hallway to answer it. The male voice on the other end was instantly recognizable. If Detective Groot was calling her with a lead, it was bound to be a good one and she said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Snapping the phone shut, she ran outside into the oppressive wall of humidity, instantly regretting the leather jacket. Once in her black BMW 325i, she cranked up the air conditioning and took off for 1824 Riverside Terrace.

On the way over, she was brimming with excitement. Though she had seen the detective many times at social functions, she never thought he was the sort who liked journalists much, let alone drop a story in one’s lap. However, she wasn’t the type to question where a lead came from. All that mattered was the story. Pulling up in front of the house, the entire property was surrounded by yellow caution tape and judging by the suits that the forensic team were wearing it was definitely a murder, and a messy one at that. Adrenaline rushed through her system and she saw the burly Det. Groot standing by the curb, looking decidedly sweaty and uncomfortable, and more than a little impatient. Getting out of the car, she took off her sunglasses and walked over, while he stared at her with that typical calculating gaze of a jaded police officer who believed he had seen it all, except this time, she saw something else in his eyes that told her he was shaken. “I got here as quickly as I could, what have you got?” She nodded towards the house.

He regarded her silently for a few seconds almost as if trying to reassure himself he hadn’t made a mistake calling her, but said, “Murder. Follow me and I’ll show you why I called you.” He turned towards the hedgerow, and Lexi followed close behind, observing that despite the callous jokes that often accompanied such scenes floating in the air, the face of every person they passed, held a hint of shock and horror. Curious now and steeling herself for what she was about to see, she let the detective lead her through a side door in to the living room where the acrid, copper scent of death and blood enveloped her like a shroud, so powerful she unconsciously put her finger to her nose and began breathing through her mouth.

Detective Groot stood still allowing her to walk inside, where she noted it looked like a typical living room, except of course for the unbelievably large pool of crimson spread out on the floor around the couch. Nothing seemed out of place. Turning to Groot she asked, “Was anything taken?”

“Nothing, it was not a robbery.” He was about to say more when one of the white suited CSI’s beckoned him through the window. “Excuse me Miss Stafford, I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.” He warned with a glare.

Nodding she said, “Of course, I know the drill.”

Thrilled to have the chance to look around by herself, if only for a moment, she quickly scanned the scene for anything the CSI’s might have missed and zeroed in on the black mark on the windowsill. Moving closer, she bent down and gently lifted the blinds to reveal a cigarette butt. Heart pounding, she quickly snatched up and shoved it into her pocket, before turning around just as Det. Groot returned.

“Sorry about that, had to sign off on some reports. Now, aren’t you curious about the body?”

Lexi coughed. “Well, yes but I didn’t think it would still be here. Where is it?” She asked curiously.

Groot grabbed her arm and led her to the couch, carefully avoiding the blood pool, and pointed behind it. “She’s there, or what’s left of her. You’ll have to peer over to see it.” He watched carefully to gauge her reaction.

The moment she leaned over, bile rose in her throat and she had to swallow hard against her gag reflex. The bloody mess of flesh lying there didn’t look like it remotely belonged to a human being, and it certainly didn’t seem to be big enough for a whole person. Lexi quickly moved away, and with a strained voice said, “I’ve never seen anything like that, what the hell happened to her?”

Before answering, Groot led her back to the centre of the room, and she noticed the doorway leading to the kitchen, but more specifically, the broken blood stained window. “What about the window? Is that how the killer left the house?” She asked absently. The gruesome image behind the couch still burned in her mind and it was difficult to focus. There were so many questions, but the one she most wanted to know now was why he called her. What did he possibly think she could do in a case like this? Of course, she wouldn’t actually ask him that, after all, this had front page written all over it, with months of investigative follow up afterwards. No, she’d have to play it cool and wheedle the details out of him slowly. Perhaps it was her intuition or simply her experience, either way, she had a feeling there was a lot more going on here than she first thought. Trying not to look impatient, she stared at Groot and waited for him to answer. If she were lucky and she played her cards right, maybe he would show her the entire crime scene, and share what evidence they had uncovered so far. With that in mind, she leaned towards him, her eyes brimming with intensity, and whispered. “You don’t have to worry Detective Groot, whatever you show me will be strictly off the record until we decide to go public, and even then I promise I’ll never reveal my source. Just so we’re clear on that.”

 

[MrBurke]

Groot was dutch, from an orthodox family in a small farm town. His home was within the state – they like to do that, station the farm boys in the city and vice versa. He didn't like this city or the people that lived in it. They felt hollow, for the most part, lax and lazy and unsure. It wasn't just that they felt uncomfortable in their own skin; that's a universal human trait, country people are really no different. It was the sense of purpose they tended to lack, and the confidence in one's place within the world that comes with it. Nobody's at peace, nowhere in the entire world. But the complexity of this city left a lot of room for disquiet in a person's soul.

The kind of room that allows murders like this.

A man left with too many open choices can go mad with indecision. It's never been that way, not even before the last hundred years, not really. A child was born and their future was determined as it pertained to the family's needs, or the town's above that. It was practicality – if there was any word that summarized Groot, or indeed Dutch people, it was practicality. Whether a given child liked their chosen profession or not, they knew. Now, Groot saw forty year old men starting new careers. It made him feel sick and guilty. A good Christian man knew tradition and responsibility. His father had been a lawman, his father before him – there was never any question. It took away the weight of wondering, and he'd started work young. At eighteen he wore the uniform and hadn't faltered since.

Today was one of those days he wished he'd been raised by a farmer.

His expression, sour as it tended to be, hardened at her promise. He knew journalists through-and-through as the opportunistic weasels they tended to be. The nature of their business fostered a cutthroat attitude among them, and necessity tended to tilt the scales away from professional courtesy and into ass-covering and career-saving when deadlines reared their ugly heads and management pushed for results above all else.

Groot had learned that police work tended to be no different, but that's another story.

“I'll show you.” His deep voice was grim, and there was a stiffness in his bones as the two shuffled by milling workers, some stopping to appraise whether or not Lexi warranted access to a crime scene, others just stopping to appraise her. It was reflexive, upon finding a woman possessed of her quality. No fleeting brush with beauty, even hers, could dull the sick taste of horror now lingering in every man's nose, mouth and mind. In all such cases of wonderment Groot's presence quelled any question of legitimacy and the two moved unhindered into a beautifully tended backyard, gardens lining the southern fenceline and children's toys sat untended, clustering mainly around a sandbox.

“You sure?” He asked her one last time at the gate, stopping her entrance with his body until she offered some acquiescence.

The sand itself had a bronzing effect on the gore, everything from the ribcage down rent from the rest of the body, as well as the lower left arm at the elbow. Her face was frozen in terror, mouth open, eyes wide. It had been an ugly death. Her face was untouched, but her clothes were in ribbons at the front, everything from her collarbone down completely open and shredded. Slashes cut across her petite breasts and around under her arms, white bone glimpsed at the sternum, visible even under the stained blood.

A man in a white suit stood at the nearest fence holding a long yellow strip of measuring tape, another pressing the opposing end into the box where her body lay. The far-reaching man came closer and measured it against the house, creating a list of measurements that would allow them to triangulate her exact position after the fact. Sand was built up around her shoulders indicating impact, and no footprints appeared in the rusty mounds around her. Broken glass lay scattered around the body as well as on top of her – if she'd been simply dropped there it wouldn't explain the glass, nor the mounds of dirt directly opposing her landing with respect to the broken window. It looked like she'd hit the frame on her way out and spun.

“Can we move this poor woman?” An unexpected note of humanity from one of the head-to-toe hazmat men, directed at the good officer. Groot was not the type promote very far beyond his initial position, but he was the type to command respect and run the show unofficially through favors and demands. If Groot wanted something held or released, he usually got his way, even barring direct orders to do the opposite from men in far superior positions.

… And they don't like guys like Groot.

“Not yet.” Groot said, standing still in the large backyard. He looked long and hard at the woman, forced himself to look, tested himself, every moment accentuating and refining the nightmares he'd be suffering through for weeks after, not to mention lengthening the period for which he'd be having them.

No, Groot did not like journalists, but he liked Lexi. Something in her spoke to him. There was a seriousness there, a strength, a sense of purpose her generation seemed all but devoid of. She was smart. She knew things, danced in circles he couldn't reach, and spoke with people who would never converse with him in a million years.

She wasn't here for the scoop of the year, whether or not she'd have it.

She was here to help him.

If Lexi was reacting badly, he hadn't noticed. His eyes were for the victim only.

“What's your take on this, Lexi?” He wondered aloud. No clues, no leading, no story. He wanted to know what she thought, with fresh eyes. “Tell me everything you're thinking right now.” His big hand waved away the impatient scientist, who shook his head solemnly and wandered off to photograph something. “I held the body, I opened the scene for you. I want to know what you see here.”

Speaking of deadlines rearing their ugly heads, Groot knew he'd be expected to answer for the case's progress, and as it stood, they had nothing, and it couldn't look that way. Maybe an outsider was just what they needed, and if not, at least a report on these happenings that showed the police (hopefully Groot specifically) in a favorable light might save him a lot of grief down the road.

You don't read about it much, but murders go unsolved all the time. This murder, however, was different. Somebody would need to hang for this.

Sometimes just about anybody would do. He felt yet more guilty for his take on the situation, but he knew as soon as he saw the body it was ass-covering and career-saving time. Maybe, just maybe, the Lord had sent him a blessing in this woman. Hers was the only name that didn't ring out in his mind as having deep connections with people he hated or couldn't trust, and Groot had heard she tended toward unusual stories, unexplainable things. Thin, but he needed all the help he could get today.

 

[Arianna]

The suspicious glances cast her way by the remaining forensic team were not lost on Lexi, but she couldn’t blame them really. How often did a journalist get a personal tour of a fresh crime scene by the lead detective? However, she really didn’t give a rat's ass about their opinions; there wasn’t room for that kind of sentiment when pursuing a story. So she squared her shoulders and stayed close to Groot, confident that nobody would challenge his authority. As he led her through the kitchen, the painstaking effort the CSI’s had taken to uncover and catalogue every detail no matter how seemingly insignificant, was obvious. Careful to step only where Groot did, she followed him outside to the backyard gate, where he hesitated to make sure she was ready, which spoke volumes. Whatever he was about to show her promised to be even worse than the horror behind the couch, and Lexi shuddered inwardly. “Yes I’m sure. I need to see everything.” She said in earnest, hiding her trepidation behind a mask of calm.

There was no going back now, and when they walked through the gate, a spacious and meticulous backyard sprawled before them, like a sparkling oasis amidst the rather mundane suburban surroundings. She immediately observed the children’s toys left carelessly on the ground and asked, “What about the children, is there a husband? Did they...” Her words stopped abruptly the moment her gaze fell on the shredded torso dumped so forcefully in the sandbox; the tiny grains of sand glittering where they stuck to the gore, blood and bone protruding from it, as if highlighting the spectacular way in which this woman died. She was slashed and ravaged so horrifically that Lexi felt a tidal wave of nausea and began gagging, turning away and covering her mouth, worried she wouldn’t be able to stop the overwhelming need to throw up. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clenched her fists and took several deep breaths until it subsided, and then turned back to the scene, her breathing shallow. She cast a sideways glance at Groot to see that even though this wasn’t the first time viewing it, he was nonetheless just as affected by it as she was, but his next words stunned her. He wasn’t here to give her a story; he wanted an opinion...an objective take on what could possibly account for a woman being literally ripped in half.

Gathering her wits, Lexi slammed the door on her emotions and crouched down, trying to focus on the details while avoiding the mask of terror frozen on the dead woman’s face. An animal did this. It was the first thought that jumped to mind, followed by the sickening realization she had seen this before. Eight years ago, she was tagging along with Margaret Hicks, one of the top investigative reporters at the time, a tough as nails forty year old who’d clawed her way to the top by cultivating some of the best snitches and sources in the business. It was from her that Lexi learned the most important resource to a journalist were the people on the street; the homeless, drug addicted, and destitute, cast aside by society like so much unwanted trash. They saw it all, whether they wanted to or not and often proved invaluable, though the trick was weeding through the crazy ones to find the rare few with intelligence and strength who were willing to give up their precious little nuggets of information for a price. It was during an investigation north of the city into a series of fatal and bizarre dog attacks, at least that what the politicians insisted they were. One of Margaret's sources led to the two of them to sneaking into the morgue to view the bodies first hand. Margaret had been highly suspicious of the lack of details from the coroner, and after the tip, decided to take matters into her own hands. Her exact words were, “Lexi, rule number one...never take anything the bureaucrats say at face value. Every one of those bastards would sell their mother to save their own ass. I’m telling you, something about this reeks of a cover-up, and the odour is coming straight from the Governor’s office. You mark my words sweetheart, we’re gonna find out the truth and then blow this story wide open. The best part about being a journalist is sitting back and watching the shit hit the fan, while you get all the credit.” Margaret grinned and then slapped Lexi’s shoulder. “I’ll make a star out of you yet girl, now let’s go!”

It had been remarkably easy to sneak into the morgue once they donned the requisite green scrubs and white coat, and luck was on their side because it was empty, though the fact it was after midnight probably helped on that score. Once they were in, Margaret amazed Lexi by knowing exactly where to go and which body lockers to open, but when she saw the condition of the first victim, it took Lexi less than two seconds to rush to the nearest garbage can and vomit violently. Then the older woman exclaimed ”Sweet Jesus,” before letting out a low whistle, and when Lexi recovered enough, she watched from a distance as Margaret examined the hacked up body lying on the cold metal slab. Suddenly, Margaret turned white a sheet and whispered, ”There isn’t a dog alive that could do this.” Her eyes grew wide with fear and recognition. ”We’re in deep shit Lexi, and we gotta get outta here...now!” The urgency in her voice was terrifying because if something had Margaret spooked, it had to be bad, and Lexi was dying to know what it was. Unfortunately, she never got the chance to find out. When they left the hospital, Margaret was visibly shaken, mumbled something about finding ‘them’, and then disappeared into the night. There was no word until two days later when Lexi received a cryptic message from her warning to let the story go, and not to worry, that she was fine, but that no one would be seeing her for a while. In truth, nobody ever heard from Margaret Hicks again and though Lexi tried to find out what happened and where she was, there were no clues and none of Margaret’s contacts would even acknowledge her. The toughest and smartest reporter Lexi ever knew had literally vanished without a trace and taken whatever information she had with her. Curiously, the attacks stopped at exactly the same time, and though Lexi always wondered at the strange coincidence, every lead turned up dry and she’d had no choice but to let it go.

Now, as she looked down on the torso in the sandbox, she knew in her gut whatever had done this was also responsible for the attacks years ago, and it promised to be the biggest story of her life. An impatient cough from behind reminded her that Groot was waiting for some kind of answer, and it was clear she had to tell him something or he was likely to pull her off the site. Calculating her options, she quickly came up with a game plan and said, “I think it’s safe to say that the way she’s torn open resembles a vicious animal attack, wouldn’t you agree? I mean look at the jagged edges on the gashes, and scrapes on the bone, as though something gnawed through it. I couldn't have been any kind of weapon, because the wounds would be somewhat uniform, and besides, no weapon I know of could account for bone splinters or explain how she was torn in two.” She stood up slowly and turned to face him, glad to put the gore behind her, and pretended as though something just dawned on her. “You know...eight years ago there were a series of supposed dog attacks resulting in the deaths of about a half a dozen people, do you remember that? Anyway, if I recall, they never solved the case, so perhaps it would be worth checking into. I’m sure you’ll have no problem getting the evidence files through police channels.”

Of course, that wouldn’t explain how the torso ended up thrown out of a window, so she added, “Admittedly,” she gestured to the body, “I find it hard to believe a dog could have done this, but what about an exotic pet? A tiger, wolf, or something along those lines could definitely have done this.” She lied. Lexi didn’t know what it could be, but a mere wild animal would never have scared Margaret, and the woman had been plainly terrified. No it had to be something else...but what? Keeping her expression neutral, she said, “I have some contacts that may be able to give me a list of all the illegal animal dealers in the city and I’ll be happy to do that for you. If we’re lucky, I might even be able to get you the names of one of the smugglers, or even some clients." After I check them out first of course. "You may also want to interview this woman’s friends and acquaintances with that in mind, in case one of them has a predilection for dangerous pets.”

Then she remembered the strange cigarette butt in her pocket, and felt a fleeting twinge of guilt at keeping that prized piece of evidence from Groot, but it quickly passed. There was something unusual about it, and she was now impatient to examine it more closely. There were also Margaret’s journals that David Gibbons allowed her to keep, and though she’d poured over them for weeks after the disappearance and hadn’t looked at them in years, it was clearly time to give them another read through. Perhaps there was some small detail, a name, a date, a place, that she’d overlooked back then that might make sense now.

Deciding it was time to ice the cake and give Groot the out she knew he needed, Lexi turned thoughtful and said, “Come to think of it, there were questions surrounding the entire investigation back then. Some people even went so far as to suggest the Coroner at the time was in cahoots with the local sheriff to cover up shoddy evidence gathering.” She lied again, convinced that the promise of blaming another police department would keep him busy for a while. Without missing a beat, she almost smiled when she added the last dollop of sweetness to make her theory irresistible. “Clearly,” she nodded to the victim, “if your case can be linked to those ones, then the Sheriff's office didn’t do a bang up job of it did they? In light of what just happened, I imagine the Mayor would be grateful if someone looked in that.” She said meaningfully.

Hoping she'd been able to strike the perfect balance between telling him just enough truth to set him on a legitimate path, and ensuring she had a good head start on said path, she checked her watch and said, “Is there anything else I should see before I go detective? If not, then the sooner I get back to the Times, the sooner I can get you that list.”

The worst case scenario would be if Groot solved the mystery before she did, in which case, he was still almost certain to reward her for the tip by giving her exclusivity; a decent consolation prize. Of course, she had no intention of letting him beat her to it.

 

[MrBurke]

Det. Groot didn't pull himself from the body while he pondered what she had said. The black-and-white nature of the scene itself numbed the interpretive parts of him and solidified what he knew. Groot knew a lie when he heard one. To say he'd expected better would be yet another. There was really no reason for the reporter to give up her edge once let into something like this, he'd known that before he called her, but the aforementioned string of heinous murders hadn't actually come to mind. There had been a few dogs mutilated, two joggers, a man walking home from his laundromat, a mailman, and two teenagers necking near the woods in a gravel driveway that lead to a conservation area, overlooking a small pond. The last had been too cruelly cliched for the public to stomach, and the deaths of the two youths set something in motion – it had never been clear exactly what – that brought the whole thing down practically all at once. No convictions, no arrests, just some brilliant coverup and politically motivated neighborhood watch programs, the local rallying and protests attributed to the broken string of murders.

Pathetically typical, and Det. Groot had been personally directed by the Chief to stay the hell out of it. He'd been totally frozen out of the thing and adequately distracted with new sets of responsibilities around that time. Never one to miss an opportunity to topple himself, even Lauritz had known better than to try penetrating those walls in particular.

“Those... weren't home invasions.” He said laboriously, finally turning, his haunted eyes a touch more intelligent now, alive with the increasing grasp on a task and string of events. “And nobody was thrown.” The coroner would be days determining if the woman had been eaten. He had his own theories, but the notion that somebody or something had partially devoured this woman hadn't crossed his mind. It wasn't a smart play to lie to her, and feign innocence, the way she was with him.

This woman was a hell of a lot smarter than this, and she had a better idea of what was going on here than he did, or at least a bead on something bigger. It had been correct to call her, he decided, and equally correct not to trust her. “The problem with City-wide animal hunts is there has to be an animal caught.” He mused, rolling the idea in his mind like a wine-taster, preparing to spit out his swallow. “People get their guns out, shoot at shadows. Messy business, that.” What alternative did he have? Whenever something like this came up he was kept away. Word had come down that a woman had been hacked to death in her home - a shitty assignment with low odds, thus Groot was assigned the case. The uniformed officer had noticed the broken window, but never imagined that half a person lay on the other side of it; Groot himself had discovered her, and managed to keep a lid on it until now.

If he was lucky they'd reassign him. Nobody wanted a square guy like him working something this high-profile. If this murder was linked to the serial killings in years previous, there would be an uproar. People wanted heads to roll, and it was a lot easier to just plant evidence and send someone to jail who ought to be there anyway. Lauritz Groot had never framed a man for a thing in his life. If he was unlucky, this was the last straw, and his inevitable failure to produce something compelling would land him a desk until retirement. The good detective never was good at 'spin'. Hence the journalist.

“Exotic pets.” He nodded. “If you find anything out, you call me. I mean it. This is the only body we found here.” He said it in a lower tone, and just stared at her, allowing Ms. Stafford to come to her own conclusions about what he meant. The sandbox looked empty but for the body at a glance, but in continuing to look one saw a half-buried yellow Tonka bulldozer, and a teddy bear dirtied beyond repair. She'd brought up the notion of a child, but forgotten immediately in seeing the body. She needed to know that their respective careers didn't measure up to what was needed, not by half.

Something about the words 'exotic pets' brought back a memory for her, the tip of something she couldn't name, but it had Margret's name all over it.

Buried in the boxes of old newspaper clippings, legal pag scrawls, typed pages and notebooks hid an entry from what Margret herself honestly believed to have been a waste of time and dead end with no validity – enough so that Alexandra herself had been convinced, at the time, and had overlooked it in re-reading ever since. It was dated one week before she and Alexandra uncovered the actual physical remains of the killing spree and abandoned with the rest of her office effects, all of which had been recovered by our heroine and stored for safe keeping and sentimental purposes. The all but illegible shorthand scrawl, upon deciphering, would read:

Exotic pets tastes flashy cash where else do you go? Informants quiet nervous queer uneasy new player in town has to be new respect direct link murders all signs point to gangsterism. Kaiser Sosey doing it worse than anybody ever foreigner in town smash hit club incredible success rise to power face in the paper shakes hand with mayor nobody has it this good. Chewed up innocents no-one important no pattern no tie just because I wanted to worst motive of all. Arnaud Mansle shot in the dark too close for comfort can't be coincidence.

Big red awning loopy letters Cat in the Hat men in ten gallon hats smoke outside lighting matches like old time zoot-suiters with maniac jokes never look at the ladies everything already in motion. Yellow cabs know the spot never stray far always come back big tippers here short trips to city condos and champagne for the whole table. Steam out of storm drains what's cooking sewers backed up the worst of it slid here. Unholy building, bad reputation, helpless young women in tight dresses getting hurt strung along hard drugs going to be a star someday big smile. Young people flock to big lineups VIP line please notice me tonight strong doormen bite is worse than their bark. Cleavage and ties moving on the dance floor totally obligatory eye-fucking strangers and ass-fucking friends in the bathroom nobody's alone here please want me come and get it please notice me tonight anything but the cold.

Gauloises for the boss man unfiltered if possible never got over it Gandfather in the war imports them when the store runs dry. Always smoking teeth stained reeks like the stuff fingers gone yellow clothes unbearable pores dumping nicotine full time blowjobs from grinning teenagers in the lounge anyway. His world his place his time time stops small timers know the spot rats don't bother with a lion's den. Bartenders hating nights screaming at drunks refusing service can't get a drink if you don't know a waitress overtipping necessary start with a fifty just to catch his eye. Tight-lipped can't talk too busy doesn't trust you there's rules about this kinda thing you know. Bouncers all know better shouldn't have asked everyone watching cover blown utterly busted what the hell bring us a round. Miserable failure center of attention sudden service strawberries on the house private joke someone's fucking with me.

Private interview total exclusivity dangling carrot lets talk turkey VIP room black lights hushed tones serious people big money convenience prestige status sex appeal. VIP VIP room keep it moving nothing to see here brass tacks can I get you a drink we're not so different you-and-I make yourself at home we can help each other.

Who do you work for whats your name what paper what channel are you now or have you ever been. Indignity and ominous promises we will ask the questions here. I never knew nothin' about it that's how come I'm here why would I ask you it all makes sense now. We need to talk wait here the back door's locked bobby pin see you later fake ID never looked so good. Alias blown can't come back super spy chalk one up for the good guys ex-boyfriend I need self-esteem call him now.

 

[Arianna]

The child is missing. Det. Groot’s cryptic words and meaningful glance led her to that conclusion, and though she was tempted to ask more, it was the way he said “exotic pets” that triggered a memory, and she was impatient now to get back to her apartment where Margaret’s files beckoned like an urgent whisper. Meeting his gaze, she inclined her head. “Of course detective and I would ask that in turn, you keep me informed of any new developments,” she said seriously, shifting her eyes to the partially buried toys in the sandbox below.

Shaking his hand and thanking him for showing her around the crime scene, she walked silently along the now worn path beside the hedgerow back to her BMW. With one last look at the deceptively normal suburban home, she started the car and sped off towards the highway. Along the way, she mentally re-examined every piece of evidence Groot showed her, classifying it and filing it away until she had time to jot it all down in her journal.

It took less than fifteen minutes to make it home, and she absently picked up her mail, tossing it with her keys on the small mahogany table by the front door. Shrugging out of the uncomfortably hot leather jacket while gingerly pulling the cigarette butt from her pocket, she held it up to get a better look. There was just enough white cigarette paper left beneath the stained orange filter to reveal a brand name stamped in faded ink…Gauloises. Interesting…French cigarettes and rare imported ones at that. Well it shouldn’t be too hard to track down the local dealers. Now, where did I put that box with Margaret’s journals? Oh yes, the office closet. Once in the office with the box pulled down from the shelf, she opened it and began digging until she found the black spiral bound notebook with torn edges. Moving backwards towards the thick brown leather couch, she curled up with the book in hand, and began flipping the pages that had turned slightly yellow with age, looking for an entry that contained the words “exotic pets”. “Ah hah! Here it is!” Then Lexi frowned. What the hell? This is gibberish! Think Lexi, think! Margaret must have written it this way for a reason. Going back over the cryptic text, weighing each word for value, she finally saw something, enough to give her an adrenaline rush. Gauloises! The Arnaud Mansle murder!

Arnaud had been one of the city’s foremost thugs, one whose foul stench permeated the deepest corners of Bay City’s seedy underworld. His death sent shockwaves rippling through every law enforcement agency right up to the Governor’s office, and Margaret had made it her pet project to figure out who killed him. She’d had her theories, but still didn’t trust Lexi enough to share them, and though Lexi knew the shrewd reporter had been sniffing around the local gangs to find out if there was a link, she didn’t know why. However, now seeing the name Kaiser Sosey amidst the mostly incoherent ramblings, all the little pieces of a puzzle she never imagined, began falling into place.

Lexi also knew without a doubt which club Margaret was referring to, one of the most notorious and dangerous the city had ever seen. The ambitious Kaiser Sosey had a lust for power and a desire for fame, so he created a popular hot spot called the ‘Kaiser Club’. Not too subtle, but it was the easiest way to create his own little fiefdom, a place where he could play God and be fawned over by admiring fans and underlings, while basking in the glory and adoration. Of course, like everything else involving men like Sosey, what you saw on the outside didn’t begin to scratch the surface of what really went on inside and Lexi now wondered why a man like Kaiser would be involved in a gruesome suburban murder. Well, that’s what she needed to find out. Reading over each word repeatedly until she felt confident she had extracted every clue left by her old mentor, she finally smiled, running her hand affectionately over the worn pages. “Thanks Margaret old friend. I owe you one.” She whispered. The only clue that didn’t make sense to Lexi was the reference to an ex-boyfriend, since as far as she knew; Margaret didn’t have any friends let alone lovers. However, it was something she definitely wanted to check into later, and she went back to the box, taking Margaret’s small red phone book out before putting the box of treasures back safely on the shelf.

It was now almost seven p.m., and anxious to get going, Lexi decided there was no point changing clothes before hitting the Kaiser Club, since she wouldn’t be going in via the front door. There was no point, she hadn’t had time to build a reasonable alias, and Sosey’s goons were some of the best. No, a shoddy ID hashed together at the last minute wouldn’t fool anyone, and besides, she was pretty certain it would be impossible to get where she needed to go under the watchful gaze of the various henchmen that were certain to be sprinkled around every square foot of the club. Instead, she grabbed her lock pick set, a handy little gift from an old time Magician named Kendar whom she helped once, when he was accused of masterminding a jewellery store robbery. He was so grateful to Lexi that he broke one of the tenets of Magic, never give up a trade secret, and after a few lessons, she could pick any lock like a pro. She then put her camera, recording device, Margaret’s phonebook and cellphone into her purse, put on her jacket and called a taxi.

The cab picked her up outside of her apartment complex less than ten minutes later, and as they drove through the downtown core, people were everywhere. Some milling about in front of coffee shops with cigarettes dangling out of the mouths, others in a hurry to cross the street and make it to their next destination, and a few more simply faded into the shadows, the lonely, desperate and unwanted. When they finally drove past the club, it was impossible to miss the bright red awning and black flowing script spelling out 'KAISER CLUB', but it was the bar next-door that next caught her attention, a country western themed pub that had a dozen or so patrons sporting large cowboy hats standing outside. Lexi smiled, well Margaret sure had an eye for detail; she had to give the woman that. A line of Kaiser Club hopefuls extended around the block, young girls dressed either like hookers or movie stars, and men trying to look like the latest Hollywood hero, the only thing standing between them and the hottest VIP ticket in town were two giant bouncers, arms crossed and staring out at the crowd with bored expressions. Lexi shook her head, stupid kids. If they had any idea what actually went on in these supposed VIP rooms, they’d run back home to mommy and daddy and never look back.

Leaning forward, she tapped the plexi-glass divider separating her from the driver and told him to drop her off in the alleyway behind. Shrugging, he turned the corner and pulled to the curb. Lexi paid him, and stepped out of the cab, glancing around and pleased to see there was nobody in the alley. The only sound was the pounding beat of dance music echoing through it, and she quickly raced towards the Kaiser Club back door pulling out her lock picks on the way. Once at the black steel door, she set to work on the lock, carefully poking and prodding with the tools, until she heard the audible click. Smiling, she stood back and opened the door, stuffing her tools back into her purse before stepping inside.

Once inside, she walked confidently towards the bar, navigating a sea of sweaty scantily clad youths, dancing maniacally to a pounding, undulating disco beat. She finally made it to the bar after almost being knocked over by a waitress dressed in a white silk blouse and miniskirt carrying a tray of exotic beverages, and waited for the bartender.

The good looking man who leaned towards her, smiled and asked what she wanted, and Lexi shouted, “Single malt, preferably Balvenie, straight up with a shot of water.” He looked at her quizzically, and then turned around to get her drink. When he slid the glass of amber liquid towards her, she dropped two fifty dollar bills and held his gaze meaningfully. He inhaled sharply, but nodded, and turned to whisper into the other bartender’s ear, before coming around to grab her arm and lead her towards a staircase, blocked by an excessively large brute with a bald head and bulging muscles, straining against the ridiculous tuxedo he’d been forced to wear. I guess when the say VIP, they mean VIP. She almost laughed.

No words were spoken, just a silent exchange between the bartender and bouncer, who nodded and stepped aside so Lexi could access the stairs. Well that was easy, now, let’s see what so special about this Kaiser VIP room.

 

[MrBurke]

The thundering club music died away to a dull ache inside the VIP room, quiet, paranoid conversations in circular booths rivaling the rumble. A man in black jeans, a baby blue white-pinstriped dress shirt, a black leather jacket, wraparound black sunglasses and three heavy gold chains with a plethora of rings to boot stood texting on his cellphone. Beside him stood a dirtier, shorter man in a leather vest and dirty jeans, a white wifebeater with shoulder-length wavy black hair, tattooed from his neck to his wrists. The cleaner, more affluent gentleman had blond hair.

The booth nearest them was full of young women in tight fitting, colorful clothing, posturing in heavy makeup, whispering amongst themselves with subdued and vibrant energy.

“That's him over there, huh?” Said the shorter man in the leather vest. “You know him?”

“Him?” The blond man glanced up, peering at the two towering bouncers standing over the next door toward the back of the room with keen awareness and overt disregard. “Pimp Lucious don't fuck with him.”

“You said he called you all the time.” The smaller man said indignantly, as though lied to.

“I said I work for him. That man, in there?” The blond, moneyed individual didn't look up from his cellphone this time. “He's not really the kind you invite over for a motherfucking barbecue. Pimp Lucious has his own things to take care of.” The blond, notably Caucasian, went on: “If that motherfucker wanna walk that stroll, and spend that money, Pimp Lucious is all – right – widdit. But a Pimp is a Pimp and a John is a John, and it don't do to mix.”

“I'm gonna go up and ask. I should ask, right?” Asked the man with the tattooed hands.

“You need to do something.” Pimp Lucious continued, snapping his phone closed and adressing his women. “And you not the only one.” He was loud enough to be heard by the door, and certainly loud enough to be heard by the women at his table. Slowly, with an exchange of looks, they shuffled out of the booth.

The man in the leather vest approached two behemoth bouncers, both easily over six feet and five inches, the pair of them in uniform black dress pants and tight black t-shirts.

The Vest spoke up: “Hey man. I got a message for The Boss.”

One of said bouncers had a big shiny bald head, and was clearly the meaner and more animated of the two. His partner was an inch or so shorter with a buzz cut, two short scars running from mid-cheek, one interrupting the corner of his mouth on both lips, the other reaching out to his chin.

The bald bouncer simply replied, “What is it?”

The Vest hesitated. “Is... is the boss in there?”

The bouncer stood firm. “Tell me the message.”

The Vest hesitated further. “I was told to tell him personally.”

The bouncer, who did not seem more upset than he had initially, nevertheless brimmed with contempt and cruel intentions. “He's not gonna see you. Give me the message right now.”

“Hey man, you're not The Boss. I can't tell you what I'm not supposed to tell you.” He tried smiling, bluffing, acting friendly... His feet left the ground all at once, and the bald bouncer peered into the depths of his humanity.

“If you don't, you're gonna get hurt by me, hurt by whoever sent you, and The Boss is gonna send someone after you for not doing what the fuck I told you to.” A growl curled around the words, a unique thing, his voice carrying two entirely different notes – this narrator might say both struck the same chord, however, at the risk of being circular.

“There's been another one.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah. Another one. Like, tonight. He'll know.” The man with the tattoos came down to his feet and stepped away, waiting for further instruction, and then whirling to push through the advancing crowd of prostitutes.

When the first one approached, the bouncer gave her the same look he'd given the man in the vest, with the same expression, and the same tone. He hadn't changed a bit, just was this way: “It's thirty dollars to get in, and a blowjob for me later.” He said flatly, and the girl's mouth opened in protest.

“You want me to pay you to get a blowjob?” She was pretty, but was possessed of that look women get after a few years of this job.

“You're gonna make hundreds in there. Take it or leave it.” The Bald Man replied evenly, eyes fiery for no reason at all, perfectly happy to overlook her and move on to the next.

Pimp Lucious was already being addressed over the discrepancy.

“Pimp Lucious don't make hoes do nothin. They do it cause it's what they gotta do. Is this somethin you gotta do, bitch?” He asked, with raised eyebrows to a brunette at the back of the line. She crossed her arms, pouting with a defeated look. “I'm not gonna tell you what to do. I'm not gonna go over there and lean over your shoulder. Tell you when to lick balls and when to suck a dick, bitch. Go'on.” His cellphone was out again, and thus the wall came down. The small appraising crowd of women, five or so, turned back to the boucner and withdrew money from various places on their person.

One by one, they filtered through the door, said bouncer remembering faces but noticeably despondent about their clothing or personality. It was obvious that none of these people knew each other.

 

[Arianna]

The music from the disco below faded into the background upon entering the room at the top of the narrow staircase, and Lexi lingered by the doorway, casually sipping her scotch whiskey while her eyes adjusted to the dimness, a cloud of cheap perfume mixed with booze billowing all around. Circular leather booths with black granite tables lined the walls, one housed a man surrounded by several tawdry prostitutes, some obviously well used, and close to the end of their exclusive membership in the ‘glamorous’ side of the business...though it was a stretch to call this place glamorous by Lexi’s definition of the word. He must be their pimp she surmised, and judging by how he snapped his cellphone shut, an irritated one. An aura of perverse authority hovered around him, the kind that only comes from terrorizing and exploiting weaker souls, and a disgusted breath escaped her lips as her eyes continued to scan the room.

The next booth held a curious mix of gangsters, for surely, that’s who they had to be, and her interest piqued considerably. Nothing else explained why an otherwise clean cut, wealthy man would sit next to two thugs, one definitely low class and covered in tattoos, conversing as though they were his partners. Figuring they represented her best bet for information, Lexi casually walked in their direction, trying to look like she belonged, but became frustrated; it was impossible to hear their conversation.

Now standing beside an unoccupied booth across from the trio, she froze when the tattooed man stepped back, but he didn’t notice her, he was eyeing another target…the two intimidating bouncers blocking entrance to the next room. Lexi’s eyes followed Mr. Tattoo and she inched slowly along the length of the cold granite tabletop, instinctively sensing the room he headed towards, was the one she needed access to. Straining to hear the heated exchange between bouncer and thug, when the bouncer spoke louder, something about his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck rise, though she couldn’t say why. However, when the exchange turned sour and tattooed man’s feet left the ground, a bad sense of foreboding swept over Lexi; it just seemed wrong somehow. Giving herself a mental slap for overreacting, her eyes snapped to the tattooed man when he said, “There’s been another one” and then “Another one, like tonight”, and a thrilling rush of adrenaline set her pulse racing. Elated, her well-honed instincts told her it was no mere coincidence, confirming, at least in her mind, that she had indeed stumbled upon the link to the suburban murder. Desperate to get into the other room, she saw the prostitutes rise. Sensing her opportunity, she moved to fall in step behind them, intending to follow straight into the inner sanctum.

While the women shuffled forward, she saw the Pimp’s eyes drift around the room and the moment they settled on Lexi with curious indignation, she quickly looked away, hoping he didn’t notice her, but it was too late. He sauntered over stopping mere inches away, smiling with what probably would pass for charm were it not for the chilling, predatory glint in his eyes.

“Mmm...mmm...look at you girl. What is such a fine piece of high class ass doin here? ” He grinned, leering as he moved to her side and put his arm around her shoulders, firmly leading her away from the others.

Lexi visibly cringed and ducked down to extricate herself from his possessive embrace. “Just checking out the VIP room, Mr…? She asked meekly, her eyes searching his, even though she knew he wouldn’t tell her a damn thing. The explosive anger that followed however, took her completely by surprise.

A strong hand shot out to grab the back of Lexi’s head painfully, and she gasped as he pulled her to face him. “I guess you ain’t too smart are you Bitch. Now, who the fuck are you?” He shouted viciously. “Pimp Lucious never forgets a ho who sucked his dick, so I know you ain’t never had that pleasure, but we can fix that right now.” His face was so close now and she felt his hot, alcohol-laden breath on her face and neck, prompting her to jerk forward.

Trying in vain to free herself from his forceful grip, the icy chill of panic washed over Lexi and she frantically searched for a way to escape. Then, her gaze locked with a tall, bleached blonde dressed in red hot pants and a black tube top, one of the women who’d been seated with her aggressor moments ago, and an instantaneous, silent exchange took place between the two. Though the blonde’s appearance held certain harshness and her posture was somewhat defeated, probably a consequence of being victimized for far too long, there was also intelligence and compassion shining in her dark brown eyes. A glimmer of hope momentarily quelled the churning in Lexi’s stomach, and she fervently hoped she didn’t mistake the look of pity and determination in the other woman’s face.

It appeared Lexi read the signs correctly because the blonde stalked over and jokingly slapped her hand against Pimp Lucious’ arm, then clucked her tongue. “Hey, hands off my baby sister.” She teased, grinning playfully while winding around Lexi and slipping an arm protectively around her waist. “Here I am doin you a favour, tryin to convince my lil sis to join the fun, and you go off scarin her away!” She chastised her pimp with an impish twinkle in her eyes.

Lexi’s heart pounded and her mind reeled, but she stomped down her fears and made every effort to play along, at a loss to understand what was going on and why this stranger decided to help her. Clinging to the other woman like a life preserver, the barely restrained violence radiating from Pimp Lucious scared Lexi to death, but she forced a timid smile and looked up at the taller woman in a way she prayed resembled sibling adoration.

The angry pimp glared at the two women suspiciously, then, his eyes glittered as he calculated the potential profit Lexi would surely bring in, and his lips twisted into a vicious smirk. “Sister is it Shauna?” He said snidely. “You been holdin out on Pimp Lucious and you just lucky that I’m feelin generous today.” Inclining his head towards the crowd of prostitutes waiting impatiently at the door behind them, he sneered. “Now you go on...take your sister and hustle your luscious asses.” With a malevolent stare and icy smile, he added. “I expect at least double your usual take.”

He said it like a warning and Lexi felt the woman at her side shiver before acquiescing. Shauna glanced nervously at Lexi then nodded briskly. “Of course, you know I always make good,” she said soberly before steering Lexi towards the others.

Lexi’s mouth opened to speak, but Shauna frowned and shook her head, whispering. “No don’t…just listen. I know who you are Lexi Stafford, and while I think you’re fucking crazy for coming anywhere near this place, I will help you get past them,” she gestured towards the two imposing guards, “if you promise to help me retire.” The emphasis on the last word left no doubt in Lexi’s mind what the woman expected, because she knew that the chances of breaking free from a man like Pimp Lucious and staying alive in the process were next to nil. Ergo, Shauna needed a new life, or more specifically, a new identity to get a safe ticket out of here.

Lexi sighed, it wouldn’t be easy, but the desperation and hope shining in Shauna’s eyes, tugged at her heart, and she nodded. Whatever it took, she’d do her best to help the woman start over, and then as an afterthought, she pulled out her wallet, handing over the five one hundred dollar bills she had intended to use as a bribe, but would now ensure Shauna had the ‘proof’ of Lexi’s success tonight. The blonde woman's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in astonishment. "Thank you, I didn't know how I was gonna explain..."

Holding up her hands to silence her new friend, Lexi smiled softly. No thanks were necessary since just thinking about what her fate might have been had Shauna not intervened made her shudder; she owed the woman big time. It also forced her to admit she had been in over her head with Pimp Lucious, and that didn’t sit well at all. Her entire career had been built around rubbing elbows and clashing with unsavoury characters, but this was different. Shivering, she pushed those thoughts aside and took a steadying breath, calming slightly until she heard the ominous threat from the bouncer, and her panicked eyes flew to her new friend. Shauna grabbed Lexi’s hand and murmured. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

After a small skirmish between pimp and whores over the unwelcome conditions, one by one the women shrugged and pulled out the money. All of them passed through in short order, until only she and Shauna remained, standing before the bouncer with the odd voice. Still fearful, Lexi refused to look at him, keeping her attention on the room in front instead, but it was impossible to see anything over the sea of boisterous prostitutes, all of whom were giddy with the prospect of pleasuring powerful men. Apparently, despite everything, the promise of prestige and a huge payoff proved too intoxicating to resist.

Shauna held out three twenty dollar bills and Lexi held her breath, waiting, and still not daring to look the strange, terrifying man in the eye. There was something unusual about him, and it defied logic, an intangible malice that even her normally insatiable curiosity didn’t want to investigate.

 

[MrBurke]

The next room was a smaller square room, brick walls, with a flat black table in the center, a light hanging overhead and several smaller pot lights illuminating the rest. There were small couches and loveseats lining the walls, but the table itself would be the centerpiece. Two men sat at the table. One was the owner, the other yet to be named.

Arnaud Mansle was older, with white hair and big gleaming teeth to match, small of shoulder and medium height. His eyes were small and brown, his hands a bit too big for his body, with ears that jut out from his head obtusely. He wore an expensive chocolate brown suit with a beige collared dress shirt and no tie, his shoes a well-polished black Italian design. A single diamond earring decorated his left earlobe.

The other man at the table was larger, six foot three, with broad shoulders and bright green eyes. His hair was black and cropped short, forearms thick and upper arms much thicker, the type of person that screams 'muscle' with a touch of ingenuity and intelligence thrown in. He was wearing a white dress shirt, pinstriped with green, rolled to the elbow and unbuttoned down to his undershirt. The pants were black, creased, nice, and his shirt tucked into a licorice black belt. He wore a low-ankle boot, steel-toed, and a nice gold Rolex watch, one ring on each middle finger.

There was a board between them, money stacked on either side of it in rows, and various unrecognizable trinkets decorate the board. It was nonsense – a big square of blank cardboard, the set pieces were randomized figurines of no consequence (a little plastic dragon, a tiny porcelain china doll, a coin, a button, a lego man, a toy car, etc.) and both men studied the board with passion, rolling the dice and taking turns moving the toys around the edges while muttering back and forth to one another.

“Bitches come.” Spoke Arnaud softly, gesturing outwardly with cigar in hand. He struck a match, lighting the thick brown stogy cut to size, puffing in a leisurely gesture that had been put off until the entrance of the women, really more an exaggeration and display than his genuine relish in tobacco. The tip of the cigar as well as a small cigar cutter, discarded. “My friend. You should enjoy. Plenty to go around, huh?”

The girls laughed arbitrarily, listening to his grandiose tone and when precisely he laughed really more than the words themselves. They were highly attuned to his ego, and gladly stroked it, understanding fully that men like him tend to set an example early on. This was a show, these women had been asked after, there were several but only two men. Like everything else about him, it was an accentuation. “Any one you want.” Arnaud grinned wide, spreading his arm, the space on his chest immediately filled with two girls, sneaking over the arm rests of the chair. When his hands came to rest, they rested on skin.

He didn't even look at them.

“Enjoy, ah?” He nodded expectantly, the man sitting opposite him slow to react, unmoved in his chair. A young lady approached the edge of the table, leaning on it demurely with a playful smirk. A tight red dress wrapped tight around her slim figure, pressing modest cleavage up and together in firm little circles on a small chest. Her breasts did not touch, couldn't reach, but the prominence of her nipples as an obvious intentional oversight as to the dress's original design made up for it. her If not quantity, then quality, the eye drawn sufficiently to her bust in compensation. It cut high enough on her thigh to threaten intimate knowledge as to whether all her underwear was left behind tonight.

“Hey stranger.” She cooed, moving her spine with something akin to feline grace, pressing the palms of her hands on the cool wood at her back. “Why so serious?”

“I don't think he's that serious.” Said another, mimicking her counterpart and resting the fleshy mounds of her tightly wrapped behind atop the hard surface. She hopped, and sat, crossing her ankles and swinging them innocently beneath her. “Are you, sweetie?” This girl wore a pleated, plaid schoolgirl skirt and button-down white blouse, tied in the middle, her larger, milky white breasts hanging heavy in the sling her top made. White socks pulled up to her knees, and the demure black school shoes were red like the skirt and the bow in her hair, which was all done down in pigtails. Her eyes revealed considerably more years than the outfit, however poorly, might suggest.

“Nahh. He's fun.” Cooed another, her five inch heels, clear, with bright red furry tufts decorating the closed toe of her loud shoes. She clicked and clacked around him, laying on a hand at the base of his spine, walking the length of his collarbone and swinging around to his side, fingertips drifting back to his throat and tickling at the nape of his neck. “I can tell already. Tons of fun.” She wore a strapless black dress, pushup bra underneath to feed as much of her C cup as she could muster, ripples in the dress intentionally hiding the matching panties and lace girdle underneath, the ends of her black stockings peeking out whenever she lifted her thigh too high.

The man spoke, addressing the women visually for the first time. His words were not for them, however, nor did them women themselves really expect them to be. While they presented, the conversation continued, the Quiet Man looking these women over in distant appraisal.

“Looking to win my favor, are you?” Said he, looking to Arnaud with something between bemusement and disappointment. He called it an obvious tactic, but appeared ready to reap the spoils of the more aged man's offering.

“What's wrong with a little polish, huh?” Alistair stroked the thighs of two cross-legged women, both steadying themselves on the chair back while he enjoyed luxuriated in the presence of female company. “Why bother with all this if not that you may treat your friends?” He grinned happily, quite pleased with himself, tugging at the ends of their skirts while he played at the sensitive flesh made available. “Why if not to have these things on a whim?”

“You always did know how to party.” Replied the Stranger with a small smile, hands folded in his lap, still content to observe. His eyes, when on any specific girl's face, would bring a different expression in her every time. In lingering over one, her muscles relaxed. She would lean in, and search his face for something just outside her range of view. Then she'd move, churn, shift position, it was an odd motion impossible to associate with any known human emotion. There it was, however; the female would appear taken, and in continuing eye contact was given to writhe just slightly as though uncomfortable sitting still, something reminiscent of a half-imagined dance move. It was as though she'd want to sway with him to music no-one else could hear, wanted his attention, was eager to maintain some level of contact at least.

His face, calm and patient still, did not change as the girl in the red dress moved forward, away from the table. A half-step, but she neared him. He waited, speaking still: “This won't change anything.”

“We must not forget our manners in times of need.” Corrected Arnaud, eager to set himself in a positive light. “Without respect we are no different from the Ferals. It is tradition and honor that sets us apart.” His short fingers delve between the warm flesh of the two prostitutes' crossed thighs, both taken with surprise but neither interested in raising a stink. They obliged by spreading out for him, the Asian girl in a deep purple mini skirt and matching belly top swallowing her pride a little easier. Her counterpart, in a denim short skirt frayed white at the ends and a white baby tee with a red heart over her prominent chest looked away, cheeks burning, unused to group situations.

“Of course.” Raised eyebrows from the quieter man, drawing the girl with the red dress close enough that she could reach out and touch him. And she did. “Not without permission.” He corrected with a voice that curled around the words like velvet, teasing reprimand with a note of seriousness at the core.

She took the hint and withdrew her hand, standing awkwardly at his side, dazed. The man's eyes turned to the young lady in the mock schoolgirl uniform, and her face changed upon finding his eyes longer than nine or ten seconds. It was as though a switch had been flicked, and she blinked, dopey with interest and unable to look away. The girl in the red dress hovered, impatiently waiting to be addressed. He did, and she took a sudden hopeful breath, but longed yet more with a pout when he returned to the smaller blonde in the colorful outfit.

“I can't think of a single thing in the world that could make this night better.” The guest of honor let his words trail off at the end, hinting. Arnaud grinned wide, and reached into a drawer in his end of the table.

“Of course.” With a flourish he withdrew a yellow velvet cloth, thick, and rolled into a cylinder. Unraveled it revealed a few individually wrapped syringes, a block of what looked like shrink-wrapped tea leaves, a spoon, a small bundle of medical tubing, a pack of cotton swabs, scissors, and a small collection of silver trinkets. There were two liquid containers in the roll as well, neither labeled – one white and partially transparent, the other black and opaque.

When the cold man's eyes left the second girl, the third backed away, unappreciative of what she saw in the other two's faces. They were limp and vacant, fixated on him, unable to keep from stretching, shuffling their feet, arching their backs and rolling their heads in minute but cumulatively notable motions. At a glance you would say they were standing still, but in watching for a small amount of time you'd see how impatient and uncomfortable they seemed to feel.

Arnaud packed a silver trinket, a generous wad of drugs, a squirt of water and a dollop of liquid animal stimulant into his large metal spoon. The matchbox he'd drawn from to light his cigar now produced flame underneath the spoon, cooking up the substance over the span of four matches total, bubbling by the end, the silver trinket having actually dissipated and swirling an effervescent gray in the solution.

“Silver.” Commented the Asian woman, smaller, with blue-streaked white hair. She looked inquisitive, unmoved by the mesmerized women on the opposite end of the table. “How did you melt it?”

“The compound in this, it breaks down the silver. Changes the atomic composition. You believe that shit?” Arnaud's harsh french accent ground out the words in a way that did not feel natural to him or anybody else.

“You shoot that?” She inquired, further. “Doesn't it...?”

“I'm not gonna shoot it.” Arnaud corrected, and pointed to the quiet one on the other end of the table.

She looked.

“It'll kill us to shoot it direct.” Clarified the stranger, raising his eyes to meet hers. She gave a surprised sigh after tense silence, then hung in the balance. “But someone like you...”

The Asian leaned to crawl across the table, but Arnaud had her by the elbow. He'd dropped a large cotton swab in with the stuff, and drew two short sweeps with the needles to fill either a fifth of the way with swirling purple fluid. He pulled the small woman into his lap, who grunted with displeasure, looking to the hypnotist for clarification.

“You do whatever the nice man says.” Soothed the younger looking man, nodding his agreement to her. “What. Ever.” She seemed to understand, and turned to face Arnaud, straddling his thighs and allowing him to strap the rubber tourniquet around her right arm. A little spurt of liquid jumped out the end of his needle, and he pushed it into her arm.

“Like that.” He motioned to the girl in the red dress, who recovered the needle and elastic for him, eager to move into his lap. The schoolgirl looked like someone had snatched her candy, but he smiled, and so did she a second later. “You're for dessert, my darling. I can't fill up on just this.” He motioned to the rail thin woman in his lap, and motioned to his belt buckle. “If you wouldn't mind.”

She tore open his pants, unbuckled his belt and freed him under her aching thighs, immediately under cover of her body the second he could be. She shuddered while he strapped her with the surgical tubing and struck out a vein by tapping, pushing his needle into her and emptying its contents into her blood stream.

She gasped when he undid the knot, and her heart carried the liquid through her arteries and into the brain. She moaned, and eyes twitched unnaturally.

“Ohh...” She groaned, staring off into space, lurching in a way that looked altogether unhealthy.

They struck.

The two male vampires latched onto the throats of their respective mates, and the women cried out in ecstasy as their blood formed shimmering hot pools in the respective mouths, eagerly gulped down and replaced with more free-flowing essence. Both men grew erections instantly, the excess fluid diverted there directly, the writhing prostitute on either side realizing their situations and yielding to the familiar press of a growing man on instinct.

The nameless one shuddered hotly, and Arnaud drank in an uglier, more insistent way, the blood vessels on either women standing out remarkably – their veins jumped from their skin and changed color, pressing out in worrying purples and blues as the apparently volatile fluid caused a reaction and thickened inside them.

Their eyes turned yellow. The women's mouths opened, jaws wide, staring at the ceiling in unkempt revelation, their bodies devouring the now maturely still members underneath and calling out wordlessly while their jaws overextended and larger teeth pushed at their gums, splitting them in their mouths, replacing flat human teeth with long, cruel fangs. The smaller teeth faded into the mouths they lived in, appeared to assimilate into the gums, cannibalized by the body in the shifting of bone structure beneath the skin. A new tone found their screams, and the howls carried two notes – one deep, the other hauntingly high-pitched.

The vampires drank greedily, inhaling the blood, the drugs, the trace elements of silver, the animal stimulant... It was a potent mix, and Arnaud was seen to blink lazily while finishing out his deep drink from his writhing werewolf cocktail, grinding her down at the ribs to bounce the small twitching body at his base. The women were shifting, right there on top of the vampires, reacting to the silver and changing partially on the spot, a million miles away as their bodies fed blood, drug and sexual dependencies simultaneously.

 

[Arianna]

Lexi’s confidence returned and the breath she’d been holding finally released when they waltzed past the bouncers. Feeling the weight of her large black leather purse hanging off her shoulder, she slipped the handle around her neck and under her arm so she wouldn’t have to worry about carrying it around all night, or worse, lose it. Stopping a few inches from the crowd of women, now dispersing and revealing the room for closer inspection, at first glance it was rather ordinary and oddly disappointing, but the two gentlemen seated at the table dominating the centre of the room, grabbed her attention right away. They appeared to be engaged in some kind of game surrounded by ridiculous piles of cash, but the little mismatched pieces on the board between them held no meaning for Lexi, so she focused on the players instead.

One had pure white hair and though not what Lexi would call attractive, he reeked of money and power; his suit and the diamond glittering in his ear, clearly the best money could buy. He seemed familiar somehow, though she was certain she had never laid eyes on him before, and her head tilted as if deep in thought. It was unusual for a man to have hair like that, and it jolted a memory, one buried in her subconscious for well over eight years. Arnaud Mansle was rumoured to have white hair, but he’s supposed to be dead. Hmm...I wonder...

Every tidbit of information she knew about Arnaud flashed through her mind, as she searched for an explanation. It could be a coincidence, but Lexi didn’t believe in those, and if she assumed this was in fact the ‘late’ Mr. Mansle, then the only logical conclusions were either mistaken identity or intentional deception. Either seemed likely, and a man in his position probably didn’t care what the public believed, on the contrary, being dead to the world certainly had its advantages in this business. Still, she was burning with curiosity, and leaned towards Shauna, whispering, “Who are those two? Do you know their names?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Shauna whispered back. “All I know is they must be important, and filthy rich.” She said absently, too absorbed by watching the competition waste no time flaunting themselves with moderate success in front of their wealthy prey. A desperate expression swept across Shauna’s face, as though a glorious prize was being snatched away and she felt helpless to do anything about it.

The blatant displays of seduction and forced charm unfolding around the table almost made Lexi burst out laughing, especially since the objects of their efforts looked either bored, dismissive or both. Well, I’ll give the guys points for good taste anyway. Mirth twinkled in her eyes as she continued to watch the entertainment. Recognising her new friend’s distress, Lexi reached out and placed a hand on Shauna’s arm. “Don’t worry; you’ll have your chance.” She whispered reassuringly, but Shauna wasn’t listening.

Sighing, Lexi crossed her arms and continued her perusal, scrutinizing the younger man who was conversing with the other as though barely aware of the women literally draping themselves around him. Though their casual discussion could be heard from her vantage point, she detected an undercurrent of deeper meaning in the simple exchange of words, however, without context, she was at a loss to understand it, and had to let it go...for now.

The dark haired man was tall, extremely well built and muscular, with an air of quiet elegance and controlled authority, in sharp contrast to the indulgent love of decadence she detected in his older companion who openly enjoyed his status and the ‘perks’ it afforded. Though more casually dressed, the younger man’s attire was nonetheless impeccable, and the gold Rolex clasped around his thick wrist easily cost a small fortune. Lexi found him quite striking actually. His very appearance and mannerisms conveyed a subtle sensuality, but it was his vivid green eyes she found the most compelling. They fixed now on the young woman in the tight red dress and an uncharacteristic twinge of feminine envy gnawed at Lexi from the way he held the object of his desire captivated, as though she were a cherished possession. At least, that was the first impression. Her appraisal of the situation quickly changed to one of concern with the woman’s bizarre undulating swaying, and vacant, dazed expression; much like a cobra shimmying and dancing before the snake charmer, but unlike the charmer, this man seemed too detached and cold, as though he were looking at a ‘thing’ and not a person. Something about it didn’t seem at all natural, and when the ‘schoolgirl’ fell under the same spell, a shiver of dread raced down Lexi's spine. Hypnosis...it has to be, but I’ve never seen it done like this before. What kind of hypnotist can invoke a trance with a mere glance? It was troubling but not why she was here. Instead she looked away while still focusing on their conversation.

Wait...did he say 'Ferals'?

The word sent excitement rushing through her veins. Shifting her thoughts instantly, her attention snapped to ‘Arnaud', now absently fondling two women with a lazy expression on his face. A spark of triumph lit in Lexi’s eyes, Yes! “Feral” is exactly the word to describe what might have ripped that poor woman apart.

Stepping forward a little bit, hoping to hear something that would connect to the murder, she would alas be disappointed. Instead, the evening took on a more sinister tone as the white haired man pulled some items out of a drawer and placed them on the table, their purpose dawning on Lexi instantly. Shit, they’re going to shoot up those women with heroin against their will!

Clenching her fists and frowning, Lexi wisely kept her otherwise outward display of calm. Having seen heroin before, the items on the table didn’t look familiar, so it was with great curiosity that she leaned closer, making a mental note of each object, becoming more confused. That’s not heroin. Hmmm…a new drug…has to be. Are they manufacturing it? I wonder if Groot knows anything about this? Questions raced through her mind, but her frown deepened as the tourniquet wrapped around the slim arm of the first victim, and she resisted the natural instinct to dash over and snatch the poor woman away to safety even as the needle pierced her vein. Lexi cringed but continued to watch, and then heat flooded her cheeks when she saw the second victim open the man’s pants, releasing him and straddling his thighs while obviously holding his flesh in her hand. Embarrassed and refusing to watch, Lexi tore her gaze away, shifting uncomfortably.

Shauna noticed Lexi’s distress, and grabbed her hand in a surprisingly strong and painful grip. Lexi flinched and attempted to tug her hand away, while shooting Shauna a harsh look, but something in the woman’s eyes made her stop, a flash of light perhaps, a reflection, whatever it was made Lexi stand still, suddenly uncertain.

“Go…now. You can’t stay here.” Shauna’s urgent voice held a trace of fear as she implored her companion to listen, her gaze switching back and forth between Lexi and the drama unfolding in the centre of the room. “Fuck.” Licking her lips nervously, she continued. “If I knew this was going to happen tonight I never would have helped you get in,” she said, her expression turning dark.

Lexi shook her head incredulously. “Are you nuts? Why? It’s just drugs, even though I find what they are doing to those poor women cowardly and sordid.” She whispered hotly, her lip curling in disgust, but still impatient to hear what the men were saying.

“Listen,” Shauna growled, then grabbed Lexi’s arms and shaking her a little bit, forcing her pay attention, “I don’t know why you’re here or what you thought you’d find, but you have no idea what’s going on! If you…”

Her words halted when strange cries filled the room, and both women turned just in time to see the Vampires attacking. Shauna shoved Lexi behind her in a protective gesture, but Lexi peeked around her shoulders to see, her eyes growing wide with alarm. The reality of what was happening didn’t register right away, how could it when Lexi didn’t even believe in supernatural creatures, and had certainly never seen one. What the…? Are they drinking blood?! Revulsion sent Lexi reeling backwards, but being a logical person, and not unfamiliar with the so-called Vampire sects where people became obsessed with drinking blood, she kept watching, believing this was nothing more than the antics of some bizarre drug cult.

Unfortunately, she barely had time to enjoy her neat and cozy rationalization, because within seconds, the true nature of the blood exchange revealed itself with horrifying clarity. The women, writhing in ecstasy a moment ago on the predator’s laps, started shifting into something, just what Lexi had no clue, nor did she care, she knew only that she was witnessing something macabre and gruesomely inhuman, and choked back a startled cry. Time seemed to stand still and nobody else moved…until a woman screamed. Which one Lexi didn’t know, but the bloodcurdling sound pierced the veil of stunned silence surrounding the table, the combined terror from the onlookers so palpable Lexi could practically taste it.

Transfixed yet desperate to flee, she began breathing in ragged gasps. Her heart lurched as icy tendrils of panic seized it in their grip, and the room seemed to grow darker, smaller. The sickening vision unfolded before her like a nightmare she desperately needed to wake from but couldn’t. Trapped and panicking, she staggered backwards until her back hit the hard brick wall with a silent crash, the jarring motion providing a welcome jolt that spurred her to action.

It was time to get the hell out of there. With trembling fingers, she fumbled at the zipper of her purse, while trying not to whimper, yanking it until it finally gave way, and reached inside, feeling around until she felt the smooth plastic of her cellphone. Determined not to look at the scene again, she took several shuddering breaths to steady her shaking hands, then flipped open her phone and furiously punched in the number for Bay City Taxi.

She didn’t see Shauna moving backwards in an effort to shield her from view, the tall blonde woman knew exactly what was taking place, and feared what might happen if the stupid little reporter didn’t get out of there in time.

 

[MrBurke]

The screaming creatures, warped past humanity with the partial change, slowed and quieted as the blood left their systems to what had to be dangerous levels. Their eyes fluttered and closed, and in the slowing of their breath, the vampires disengaged and allowed their limpening bodies to slack to one side or another like marionettes with cut strings. They flopped and sat on their own spines, semi-erect, backs bowed with the effort of existence. The one in Arnaud's lap wheezed.

There was a thick noise when the men removed the women, and the nameless vampire took his second treat, Arnaud reaching out for the blond to his right. She had not been drugged, and was red with confusion and distress. Arnaud's hands closed around her hips - the motion made her jump, and she gave him an unsure look, disgusted look. He spoke not, but urged her closer, grinning. "Tell you what." He smiled ear to ear, his face red with blood, the stuff having run down his neck to stain his shirt. "I'll be gentle. Huh?" He gave a little laugh, tugging her closer. "Real gentle." His erection glistened with the bodily fluid left behind by his first choice, and even it seemed to leer at the young, apparently inexperienced girl in the denim skirt.

“I’ll pay double...” He sang the word, reaching across the table and grabbing a fistfull of money. The paper stuck out between his fingers messily, just closing his hand around a fistful of fifties, throwing them above his head that they might spin mid-air and flutter down around him. “C’mere.”

She gravitated toward him. Then there was the stiff-jointed mounting, pausing overtop of him, waiting. She stared at him. Stared at the blood.

Breathed it.

Leaning down, she brought her nose closer, inspecting the residue there.

"Let go." Arnaud smiled, petting her bottom lip with his thumb, running fingers over her chin and lower cheeks. His hands soothed down her ribcage, pulled up on her top, stripping her of the supportive bra and baring her chest. The young woman was unfettered. She licked, tentatively, then all at once thirstily, lapping at his right cheek, cleaning it of mess.

"Let it out." He said, his voice somehow larger, commanding something much deeper than her humanity. Whatever it was inside that he addressed woke up, and she purred. The sound was milk-chocolate smooth, thick like molasses, luxurious - the kind of sound you wanted to reach out and grab, snuggle up against. She licked further, cleaning his chin, churning above him. Her body awoke in new ways, and she let him dance around her opening.

“Come on...” He groaned, bunching the skirt, bringing her to his tip. She squeaked, and shivered, and purred again. “I remember you.” He teased, red teeth happy, two elongated fangs grown in where regular caps ought to be. Four regular teeth between them in the front, long, pointed, unnatural. “You don’t remember me?” He cupped a breast, drinking in the sight of her, allowing for a shudder of his own. “You don’t remember coming on me?”

The unnamed vampire brought the ‘schoolgirl’ up into his lap, and she eagerly descended on his member. Her thrill was immediately apparent, and she pushed her hands under the collar of his shift. The stimulation made his body tighten, and lean back in his chair, arch his hips up. She stretched his shirt enough to pop the top button, eyes glazed and dilated with something unearthly. “Faster.” He growled, refusing to touch her. His fingers twitched. His hands flexed. He did not let himself guide her body.

“Faster.” He insisted. “Deeper. Show me.” She kept her head reasonably steady to stare into his eyes while she bounced, red faced with effort and starting to sweat, her soft insides swelling and compensating to accept him further still. He took the back of her head and closed his mouth over her throat below the corner of the jaw, biting, bringing a gasp out of her energized body. The rythm of her bouncing staggered, stopped, and he corrected her with a sharp strike to the exposed flesh peeking out of her little skirt. She obliged, moving faster, distracted entirely by his feeding. He struck her again, and her intensity resumed, fighting her way through the over-stimulation and working him over as hard as manageable in her current station.

Her body movements changed, fingers dug into his shoulder and collarbone, panting louder, sweating openly now, finding a specific part inside of her that needed to be struck down. There was, apparently, an individual curvature inside her velvety pussy that needed stimulus from a very particular angle, a very specialized piece of his swollen cock arcing into that one distinguishing ripple of nerves over and over and over... it was exactly the right way, with exactly the right pressure and consistency, at exactly the right time in their commune. Already she neared her peak.

“Please.” She begged, heaving on his cock. “Please.” She was getting more insistent. “Please please.” Her voice had risen in pitch, frantic now, shoving her body down on his.

Ducts in his gums released a sweet blue effluvium that beaded into her bloodstream and went straight to her brain, retrieved by veins and drawn back into her heart, distributed to the rest of the muscles in her body. The stimulation was too much, and three communicating strikes to her rump affirmed her allowance. He could and would not break contact for something so paltry as speech.

Time stopped.

She screamed, and came, body rocked with an orgasm so strong it overrode her body completely. There was a flash, and everything went white. Her being transcended individual knowledge and for one beautiful moment knew peace, really and truly, achieved a perfect state of mind. Nothing existed, nothing mattered, there was simply too much sensation to fathom anything beyond it. The stimulation filled her up completely, the contact of his skin meant for creatures of his kind, not hers. Never hers.

People aren’t meant to come that way; it’s too much, we’d never do anything else. It would literally be the end of our species within a single generation. The bite itself is quite potent and produces a natural high, nevermind the rush of the sex. If you combine that with with whatever the previous two had been shot up with... they just lay on the floor at the vampires’ feet, by the way, shuddering, twitching, dead to the world in their half-transformed state. The drugs rocked their bodies and they drifted in space.

The blond did not appear much better off by the end, the drain on her system in addition to the blood loss just too much for a human.

He slid her off, eased her onto the floor. There was no evidence that he’d reached orgasm.

It would not occur to a casual observer that this might have been at all for her benefit, but it was important to him, for some reason, that she climax. He could have just drank her. The act of sex is significant beyond his pleasure, for whatever reason, this was clear from the still blank and uninvested expression on his face. His skin was pink, rose, flush with blood. Incredibly warm. The adrenaline in her system made his hands work, eyes roll, legs stretch. He was, after that last drink, colored quite red around the lips and chin, a ragged stain down his throat and onto his undershirt. He was hot with blood and substance, his body reacting in ways that lay dormant as not absolutely pertinent to his continued existence. It was possible for him to dry out, but a dead looking vampire is a hungry or malnourished one. Red flashed in his eyes, tinted the green, mixed with it. Colors alternated around the iris, reflecting the crimson that painted his mouth.

He turned his attention to Shauna and Alexandira.

“You two. Come.” He said simply, every inch of him expecting compliance.

Shauna knew this was it. Before approaching, she turned to Lexi, and whispered with an angry urgency, “I like you.” Even facing away from him, she seemed worried about so much as moving her lips when she spoke. “I don’t know what he wants.” She continued. “I don’t know him. But you’re here now. And I’m so... so sorry.” She took as deep a breath as she could, and it still amounted to a shallow one. “You need to pay very close attention to what I do and don’t do. This is a very serious, okay? You can not fuck this up. You can’t talk back. You can’t say no. You can't ask questions. Lucious pays well but he's breaking into a new clientele... I've seen this before. I'll keep him busy as much as I can. This man will kill us both if we disappoint him.” She blinked, feeling the impatience of the vampire at the table radiating against her back, moans from the blond in denim skirt riding Arnaud echoing in the background. "This is survival time, now. Do you understand that? You have to think before you act."

"He's a monster."

When she turned, the veil was drawn, and she wore that seductive, interested, pleased smirk so familiar among these women. It galled her to witness again first hand the pile of living flesh, two women now overturned on his left side, her approach and the place where Lexi stood far to his right. The man had lifted a blanket off the ground at his feet, and pointed where it had come from.

Shauna nodded agreeably and tucked her slim body between his chair and the table, and in receiving a nod to her questioning look, took him into her mouth.

He was long, but not freakishly so, and thick enough that it opened her jaw indiscreetly. Her eyes shone as she devoured him, rubbed his head on the back of her throat, held him there. He nodded again, and put a hand on the back of her head, rustling through her hair and patting reassuringly. "Good." He nodded again. "Just like that. I don't want you jumping up and down." She seemed to understand, and would rotate her head side to side and hold him deep instead of offering the long strokes typically associated with the act. Shauna offered short pushes that allowed him into her throat for seconds at a time, an innocent, hopeful expression on her face while she looked to him for further approval. Her eyes went to Lexi, and the two made eye contact, a look of relief on Shauna's face. He would not assign Alexandria to help with someone so skilled intentionally smothering him with sensation, the kind of silky pleasure you can hang on like a note in a song.

"Don't stop." He nodded again, unfolding the blanket, touching her face to call her attention, looking her in the eye. "Don't you dare."

The blanket stretched across his legs, and he soothed it over the armrests, over his lap, over her face. It made a basically clean surface, but for the minute notions. She moaned on him. "Quiet." He corrected, and reached without looking for Lexi.

"Closer." He said, laying eyes on her. "Closer." He insisted, reaching out to her, his face intense, but dazed, and dopey. He was high. Completely stoned, the rush of chemicals (natural and synthetic) sloshing through his body and setting off a cacophony of reactions inside. He blinked rapidly at times, and would loose track of her visually, just zoning out for a few seconds before snapping back to reality. The sensation between his legs would distract him, and he would become lost in thought over whatever drifts through the mind of an immortal creature of the night. He did not see Lexi as a threat, you understand, and was well fed; she understood her station and would comply, always comply, so there was really no reason to stay completely cognizant. Stimulants, depressants, relaxers and adrenaline surged into capillaries and gave him a very energetic, passionate-looking sway and distant sort of context. He couldn't even see straight, completely overloaded and apparently very much accustomed to existing in this very state.

His free hand lifted a large, flat piece of wood that someone had leaned against the large middle support of the table. The beam curved down to a single connecting base with a circumference of about three feet, painted black and undecorated. It reached up into the room to make a circular top, and it was leaning against this base that he withdrew this flat plank and lay it from armrest to armrest, making a closer flat surface directly overtop of the busy Shauna.

In retracting his outstretched arm Lexi came within his reach, and he seized her then. "You." He growled, pulling her onto the armrest very much without permission (I might add). "What should I do with you?" His grip was steel, he faced her away, kept her on the very edge, just about to fall into escape but unable to muster even an inch of progress. She found her behind was truly more hovering at the armrest as opposed to strictly speaking resting her weight on it, he appraising her from behind, just as happy to do it from the back before the front. "I'm full to the brim." He mused. "You're hardly dressed for sex." In saying so he shook his head and tut-tutted.

"Lay down." He pointed to the table top surface, releasing her. "On your back." Things flickered through his face unimaginable, true magic swirling around the whites of his eyes, expression alive with conflict, his untouchable cold trapped inside a body that wanted to dance. "Lay down here in front of me."

He set his elbows on the surface, hands close to his chest, and waited for her to comply.

The only sound in the room was gentle slurping, the blond in the skirt clapping against Arnaud's stomach while he drank. She seemed to be in fully swing now, clawing at his chest, breathing deep, nearing her own climax.

The stranger had not put Lexi under. Nor Shauna, for that matter. Something different was happening. "Lay back." He insisted. When he looked her in the eye, she could feel something pulling, something ravenous and mean that knew her inside and out. Like a snake knows how to strike, it knew her vulnerabilities absolutely. It did not reach out to her, as though uninterested. There was dejection in knowing one had been assessed by a higher being and looked over completely, dismissed. To have that snake suddenly calm and casually sliver by at your feet feels somehow diminishing.

"I could kill you for fun." He blinked, looking at her physiologically, at her structure and parts, disassociating her from cohesive life. "I could watch you twitch..." He reached out, and put the pinky of his hand on her throat, and lay the rest of it across the delicate flesh there. She could feel her own pulse in the pressure he put on it, checking her heart rate, smiling indecently. "While I choke you." The predator revealed itself, the weight of his full attention very nearly unbearable. There was an insane thrill in his smile, the look of a man who had been to the edge of himself and gone mad with revelation, who killed for sport and delighted in life and death. "Don't bore me with rebellion." His eyes narrowed. "You could walk away from this tonight. You could." He nodded generously, considering. "You could. If I have to get up," He started, and then pointed below the table. "from this?" he shook his head. The man was clearly high, and criminally insane. A killer. A creature designed to be the ultimate predator, to hunt humans specifically. He was smeared with blood, flexing his fingers around her trachea, and his smile was unmistakable. "You don't run. You stay with me. You stay and be my pretty doll." He looked her over dreamily. "You can be my art tonight."

Arnaud motioned to the woman who had backed away from whomever it had been standing behind this stranger's chair, and she came. Her nervous eyes were all for Lexi, but upon realizing that the dark, scary vampire was looking at her she adjusted her gaze, and very soon went slack, compliant, eager. She was directed to Arnaud with a gesture and took up a position between his knees instinctively, and he relished the attention.

"Back to business?" Inquired the man in the chocolate suit, quite pleased.

"Back to business." Agreed whomever was holding Lexi in place, running his fingertips in circles around her belly button with a free hand. His eyes would spark with interest whenever she indicated fear by jerking or twitching... he rapturously drank her fear. He was feeding on it, in point of fact. Feeding on the Worship, from Shauna, and feeding on Fear, from Lexi. Whether the amount he received from either was satisfactory is yet to be seen, but Lexi could not stand, not with his hand at her throat that way, and could not speak without a jerk of pressure between his fingers and thumb that would close her vocal canal for seconds at a time, silence her totally.

The green-eyed man looked across the table at Arnaud, and reached over her body to lift playing cards off the table, the eight of hearts and a nine of the same suit. He held them in his free hand, exposed, and gave Arnaud a deadly serious look. "Ventnor Avenue... and Atlantic. For North Carolina."

Arnaud considered the cards, scrutinizing them darkly.

"I don't know if I can do that." He replied, stroking his chin.

"I think it's more than fair." Countered the nameless one, looking offended at the indignation. Without looking he traced a line from hip to hip on his captive, then slid fingers up under her shirt, dancing just below her sternum, just to prove he could.

"I couldn't let it go without Waterworks too." Arnaud shook his head with disgust. "Or five hundred dollars."

"Preposterous." Said the man who held Lexi down, drawing his fingers into a fist on her skin, forgetting her momentarily in his anger. "I'll throw in two."

Arnaud shook his head. "Five or Waterworks. I'd consider Short Line and a hundred and fifty."

"You'd consider?" Mocked the darker man, shaking his head. "You're being obstinate. For no reason. No fucking reason."

"Consider my position!" Replied Arnaud, pupils equally dilated, throwing his arms in the air, gesturing toward the table. "If you get North Carolina, the game might as well be over!"

"That isn't true." The darker man shook his head, lifting his hand from Lexi's throat in distraction. His arms crossed, making a face, communicating his position clearly. "You want this property." He shook his head again. "You just want to see me begging, that's it. Isn't it?"

 

[Arianna]

Lexi did her best to ignore the events unfolding around her, instinctively blocking the horrifying screams of the ghastly, transformed creatures she didn’t even want to contemplate. This instinct for mental disengagement gave a modicum of control, and protected her sanity from the threat of something she couldn’t comprehend much less rationalize while she fought desperately to reach someone, anyone on her cellphone. A frustrated whimper escaped as yet another busy signal sounded in her ear; each blaring tone meant hope of reaching the kind of safety found only in another human voice was rapidly dwindling.

Smashing the disconnect button with her thumb in anger, she was about to hit redial when the sound of silence caused her to look up; feeling a wave of nausea. The beasts now lay in crumpled heaps on the floor, and Lexi tore her eyes away from that disturbing sight, only to see something equally abhorrent...the men, covered with blood, sitting there with exposed erections still slick with fluid, like debauched monarchs surveying their own little fiefdom. They were drunk from their own sick, twisted, decadence, and God only knew what else. Now focused on their next innocent victims, her heart ached for the women, one hypnotized and vulnerable, the other, manipulated into compliance. Tears of rage threatened to spill onto Lexi’s cheeks from what, at least in her mind, was no different from an assault, and no matter how unreasonable that thought was, she refused to let it go because she needed to believe it.

Disgusted yet inexplicably transfixed, Lexi stood watching the erotic dance between man and woman, one that might have been arousing under different circumstances, had it truly been between lovers. Her attention was only on the dark haired one now, and the intense pleasure he was coaxing from the girl bouncing frantically on his lap. The expression of ecstasy on the ‘schoolgirl’s’ face was undeniable and suddenly, Lexi’s comfortable belief that it was against the young prostitute’s will, was challenged, forcing her to question whether there may be more going on than she was willing to admit. The distant detachment on the man’s face though, was such a startling contrast to the lustful abandon of his victim, that it made Lexi very uneasy. Actually, it petrified her because it struck at her deepest feminine fear…that a man could manipulate and control a woman by exploiting her vulnerabilities, and ripping away her individuality, rendering her nothing more than a willing slave to his passion and whims. It was something Lexi vehemently refused to fall victim to and had steeled herself against over an entire lifetime.

The girl’s mounting pleasure and cries of passion ultimately became too much for Lexi to bear, and she looked away, red faced and staring at the floor while trying to ignore the sounds. Eventually, the rapturous screams of the girl’s explosive climax tore through the room, penetrating the farthest corner, until Lexi wished the floor would somehow open up and swallow her whole. At least she didn’t have to wait long for the room to grow quiet again. Several moments of silence lulled Lexi into believing she may escape unscathed, and then…she heard the words...”You two. Come.”...and froze.

Without a doubt, it was a command meant for her and Shauna, and at the same time, she knew exactly who it was that uttered it. His voice had already become familiar, a common phenomenon that occurs when something is associated with trauma, and her eyes flew to the dark man before darting to Shauna. The blonde woman stood rigid, pity and determination etched on her face, and Lexi listened carefully to every word, feeling the remorse, understanding the importance of what she said, and agreeing without hesitation. Instinct alone told her their very survival depended on the ability to stay calm and draw as little attention as possible, and she was determined to do exactly that.

Nearly paralyzed from anxiety, she watched with increasing dread as Shauna sauntered over, and knelt between his legs to take him in her mouth. The silent communication between the two women did little to make Lexi feel better, and the situation only grew more distasteful with the man’s deliberate attempt to belittle her friend by covering her with a blanket, and then, oddly enough, a piece of wood. Lexi was both disgusted and incensed, but that promptly changed into raw fear when his hand reached out for her, demanding she come to him; the arrogance of a monster beckoning his prey, confident there could be no refusal.

Shauna’s urgent warning about the seriousness of their situation had been unnecessary but echoed through her mind nonetheless. With a shuddering breath, Lexi took a few steps forward, and gasped when he snatched her as though she weighed nothing, pulling her closer his iron grip, holding her utterly still, yet poised so she wasn’t actually resting on anything. He kept her there for a moment, her backside hovering a hair’s breadth above the edge of the armrest, causing the muscles of her thighs to remain tense. Before her stretched the room’s expanse and the tantalizing promise of freedom, behind her a terrifying caricature of her worst nightmares, his ominous words “what should I do with you” feeding her imagination until it took her to the edge of panic. Chest heaving from ragged breaths, and wrapped in a tight cocoon of fear, she did not miss the note of disapproval in his voice over her attire; though she didn’t care, and oddly, had the idea that neither really did he.

When he commanded she lie down on the makeshift table, an overwhelming urge to revolt surged through her body. She was painfully aware of Shauna pleasuring him beneath, and his seeming cold indifference to it, as though the woman didn’t even exist. With head held high, Lexi refused to look into his eyes, but his rich velvet voice constricted around her with ruthless authority, leaving no doubt about his ability to force her if she didn’t obey. Her resolve faltered on the brink of collapse. Mortified by both the wanton sounds of sexual gratification rising above the silence, and the thought of surrendering to his demands, she still dared not refuse, for doing so would only serve to give him a reason to kill her. A deep shuddering breath wracked her body as she steeled herself for what was to come. With cheeks stained pink from humiliation, it took all her inner strength to take that first step and climb onto the wooden plank, where her knees met the cold hard wood with a soft thud. Crawling until she knelt in the centre, her eyes stayed focused on the red brick wall at the other end of the room while she pressed her palms down to steady herself, and then stretched out her legs, the slim heels of her leather boots making a scuffing noise as they slid across the table. Trembling and clutching her hands to her breast, she winced at his repeat command to “lay back”, but complied by slowly leaning backwards until her head rested against the rigid surface, and her long red hair splayed outwards like a fiery halo around her ashen face.

In the next instant, his cold green eyes, devoid of any humanity, locked with hers against her will, and she shivered at what she saw swirling in their depths. Appalled with herself for ever thinking him attractive, she braced for the hypnotic trance she was sure would follow, but instead, something chilling and malicious penetrated her senses, causing her very soul to cry out against the invasion that stripped it naked before the enemy, her very existence weighed and measured for value, and then callously dismissed as unworthy. It was degrading and yet at the same time, she felt some relief, exactly as though she had been probed by death himself and given a generous reprieve.

She did not have to wait long to discover his motive for keeping her alert and responsive. He was playing with her, taunting and manipulating every last ounce of fear from the depths of her consciousness to feed his twisted desire for domination through pain and suffering. On some level where logic remained intact, Lexi knew that, but the warmth of his strong masculine hand pressing on her fragile throat was frightening, and the subtle weight against her trachea painful. The thrumming of her pulse intensified, beating wildly against his fingers, and she gulped, eyes widening from the terror of knowing that any wrong move would be her last.

A deranged display of emotions played across his otherwise impassive, blood smeared face, and Lexi began shaking again as she listened to his rambling threats, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white, his words and predatory visage nearly suffocating her with their hideous intensity. She had seen that look before on the faces of the worst serial killers in history, and just like them, this ‘monster’ was clearly psychotic, warped beyond redemption and lost to reason, his beast normally leashed but now freed by the whatever combination of drugs and violence he found intoxicating. For surely he was intoxicated, his tenuous hold on reality and inability to focus was obvious, but even that gave Lexi little hope because he was inhuman...a Vampire.

Just thinking it seemed wrong, but not more so than the crushing realization she knew it to be true with every fibre of her being. She had witnessed him, his sharp fangs, the blood...the others. There was no other explanation. Though she was scared to death, and struggling to breathe, the bemused smile and dreamy gaze that swept across his face as he looked upon her, declaring her his “doll”, curiously ignited a tiny flame of defiance in Lexi. It was a tremor of indignation that he treated her like a new pet that had better amuse its master or risk being tossed aside without a second thought, but it quickly extinguished. His fingers tightened on her throat once more, a shattering reminder she lay powerless before him and was nothing more than a sacrifice on his altar of madness.

Trembling and fighting the urge to squirm against his grip, the seconds ticked by like hours, and Alexandria slowly drifted along the emotional void between sheer panic and resignation, the place where a person knows the end is near, and must decide how they will face death. Does one go kicking and screaming, or surrender to the inevitable? To deny her tormentor the pleasure he craved was the only measure of control she had left, and she cherished it, embracing the only opportunity for retribution a victim has in those final moments. Convinced she was about to die, but secure in a place of calm acceptance; she stilled, and welcomed the promise of eternal peace that beckoned beyond the veil of mortal consciousness. He was touching her now with his other hand, and though the heat of his fingertips penetrated the fabric of her shirt as he traced delicate circles on her belly, she was too internally focused to care, and her breathing normalized, as evidenced by the slow, rhythmic rising and falling of her chest. Fixing her eyes on the ceiling above as she waited for his attack with a newfound serenity, she scrutinized every minute detail, every painted brush stroke, every flaw, until imprinted in her memory forever. There it would lay in wait, only resurfacing again to haunt her future dreams.

That the two vampires had casually returned to ‘business’ as if nobody else was in the room didn’t register with Lexi at first, and their strange conversation merely floated in her subconscious. Even the soft caress of his hand sweeping across her hips, then slipping under her shirt to rest on bare skin barely made her flinch, any movement was nothing more than her abdominal muscles involuntarily flexing from the unexpected touch, but she remained otherwise unmoving in her own trance like state.

However, as conversation progressed, their voices became more and more agitated. As the volume increased, Lexi gradually became more cognizant, knowing the instant his hand moved and she was free. A quick intake of breath was the only clue to the change in her awareness and she ignored the rush of elation as the human fight or flight instinct demanded attention, stamping it down by sheer force of will. It is amazing how quickly the human mind can switch gears, but in spite of that, Lexi remained still as death. Keeping her breathing deep and even, she listened more carefully now, absorbing every word until confident the dark vampire was no longer focused on her, and then quietly turned her head to calculate the distance between the table and freedom.

 

[MrBurke]

“Would you?” Continued Arnaud with a crooked smile. “I didn't realize begging was on the table.” Arnaud took in his counterpart lazily, his head lolling with the drugs and pleasure, his hands mussing through the hair of whomever knelt at his feet. “Those two with waterworks, and two hundred. Final offer.”

“There's begging on the table.” Confirmed the green-eyed terror, those sparkling irises stretched wide like a frog's, unnaturally dilated with the untamed mix of fluids surging through his body. “Isn't there, little doll? Will you help me make a deal with this unreasonable creature?” He reached again for Alexandria, taking her under the knee nearest to him in one hand, the other scooping up under her neck, squeezing fingers around the far side of her cervical spine while shoving his thumb up against the base of her skull, pushing, effectively forcing her head to turn away, her hips leaving the wood with an easy lift. His grasp was irresistible. Her upper body stayed put against the wood, but her one leg dangled mid-air, hips rotating out to face Arnaud, as did her face.

“Please Mr. Mansle!” He shook her obscenely, forcing her body to undulate with grotesque, torturous display of power, jerking her just hard enough to make the muscles that weren't flexing quiver and sway. “Please take the deal! Please be generous!” His voice was a high-pitched farce, an imitation, meant to be ridiculous and demeaning. “This man is evil! He'll kill me if you don't! And then you'll have a big big mess! Please, oh please Arnaud! Have mercy, do have mercy on my poor little soul!” He was sloppy with intoxication, and barely paying attention to her.

Arnaud's face lit up with cockeyed laughter, folding a fist over his mouth and giggling into it nervously. “Hardly like you to play with your food.” Scolded the older (looking) vampire, tut-tutting his friend. He was not privy to the level of enjoyment had here, and watched this scene play out warily. It had not gone too far. Yet. And he was nervous that it might.

“You don't know me that well.” Countered the cruel, dark best holding Lexi hostage, who was still splayed out half-hung in the air like a desperate, crippled puppet. “She's too stubborn to stay afraid.” A cold eye rolled down to her, and he let her see him do it. “Brave.” He uttered the word like it was dirty.

“A deer in the headlights, is she?” Everyone reacts differently to fear, of course, but patterns absolutely form, and you may well see every symptom in a given person on a long enough timeline. He knew basically what was happening here, but did not grasp the situation entirely. “I'm sure you'd rather she cry. I can call for another...?” It wasn't good that someone so monstrous as Arnaud was inviting Lexi away in favor of someone else, anyone else making a feeble attempt to separate the two... something hung in the air even more nerve wracking than the idea that these two had absolute plans, and it was indeed that even a situation so cold and victimizing as this was all the time spinning father and farther out of control.

“And admit defeat?” The man with the green eyes shook his head. “Under no circumstances. We're just reaching an understanding. Aren't we, pet?” Instead of turning her to face him, he just shook her further, and the moment of silence stretched between them while her body rocked against the hard surface, forced to look away. “She won't look at me.” She could hear the pleasure in his voice, something akin to the purrs she'd heard from the transforming women, though not at all to the same degree. “I think it's important that we protect these little liberties in our victims, don't you, Arnaud? Especially the ones we like.”

She was dropped back to the wood, but still forced to stare at the suited man across the table. His eyes were all for her face, and she could watch his arms move, feeding himself to the woman under the table endlessly. There was rustling... the man lording over her searched through something not directly attached to her, but close. Arnaud's eyes flickered over what went on outside her view with interest, calculating her odds of survival. “You don't like her that much, do you?” It was almost a moan, which could be attributed to the attentions he received under the table, but it certainly did not feel that way.

“Alexandra Stafford.” Said he, now, turning her head ever-so-slowly, allowing her to watch the contents of her long-forgotten purse perused and spread across the table, a pack of gum, a few pens, a calculator, and her wallet, now in his hand. “You know, it's funny.” It was his turn to refuse looking at her, now, as a matter of dignity. “You're the first girl in a long while I've seen bring her purse to an event like this.” The word 'event' dripped with irony and implied regal distastefulness, the way you'd invite a jester to a suarez that they might pour molasses over their own heads and roll in feathers for the benefit of whomever the actual guests were. “I wonder.”

Intelligence flashed through his face, regarding her anew, excitement flickering over his distorted face. His eyes fell on hers, and this time real interest surged from whatever lurked behind them. It was like the color in his eyes reached out in an emerald gray mist, some powdery, sentient effluvium snaking out to dance in forking streams and settle down around her. Pixie dust, effervescent, promising lips but sinking in like teeth. It was impossible not to watch.

It seemed to rush her tear ducts and nose, surge in through her mouth and her ears, and the world vanished.

They were alone in the dark.

“Tell me.” He whispered in the black, his hand at the base of her skull, the other tense on her stomach, sneaking under her shirt to play at the flesh – somehow the bond between them intensified when he contacted her further. The woman's head cradled in the palm of his hand, he penetrated her very being, forced his way into the fabric of who and what she was, dragging things kicking and screaming to the surface to lay them all out in a neat row for both of them to see.

“Tell me.” He repeated, slavering intensely, expression beyond anticipation.

She stung with terror, stood on a windy block just outside her highschool, stopped outside of a convenience store by a man with a knife.

“Gimmie the bag.” He insisted, glancing nervously around, suspicious looks to the passing cars, eying the door she came out of wearily. He knew every second counted. “Give it to me!”

He was loud, and angry. He looked like an addict. She was a strong young woman, smart, handled stress well. But the knife... it was too much. She was too young. She should know what to say. Just hand him the purse!

“Gimmie the fucking bag!” He shouted, stepping closer, eyes wild with panic. He was more afraid than she was – that's what's most terrifying, of course. Anything can happen with a junky so excited and desperate as he. His knife was dull, and short, and looked as though it were from a kitchen set. His big baggy black coat had the hood up, tied tight across his chin, saliva having dribbled and frozen in the shoelace knot he'd secured in the hopes of covering himself (in lieu of a hat). “What are you, retarded?” He was overcompensating, yelling louder, getting angrier, bulldozing poor Lexi in sensing her fear.

Dumbly, she'd held out her hand, and took a step back, offering the purse and inadvertently moving away – in her shock, the two actions hadn't felt connected. “Please.” Was the only word she'd squeak to him throughout the entire ordeal.

“Fuckin' idiot.” Now, the best. He snatched the purse, and in one last fleeting moment of eye contact, he considered her. His eyes wandered tip to toe, and he thought to himself, easy. He could have her – shove her into his car, have a hostage, she'd play along. Maybe he'd miscalculated her as a person wholly. Or maybe, just for that moment, he was absolutely right, and she'd cave completely. Bow to his every whim, just one intimidating bellow away from compliance at any given time.

She'd read the thoughts in his face and not known which was true, as she would wonder for years after the fact. It had been the most debasing experience of her life, and in trembling, allowing herself to be weighed, felt shame pure.

That same shame that blossomed in her spread over into him. The man felt disgusted, and reviled at his own nature – everything he'd put her through, and all the considerations he'd allowed into his head. He felt dirty. Awful. Seethed at his dank nature. His dick went limp and his bowls retracted. The man's heart shrunk altogether, perhaps permanently another notch smaller.

With that, he was gone, and she was left to shiver in the January air. One spoke of being mugged after the fact, and described their pursuer as loud and holding a knife, but we tend not to detail the experience this way. There are things that register in the moment and are gone just as quickly as they appear, things we repress, details we forget, elements we cannot communicate or even name. Lexi was not one to belabor the details willingly, and after a few weeks of nightmares had successfully repressed the majority of it.

The vampire returned to her field of vision, never having left, but invisible in the midst of her re-living that private pain as though she were there again, as though it were the first time.

The glimmering green eyes were as overwhelming as a sunrise at first, but soon his entire face was in view, akin to a full moon, hovering untouchable in the night's sky, omniscient and immovable. He stretched her memory and wore it like a suit, wiggling into the experience in a way unfathomable, locking it away in his mind, raping her very essence and taking what he pleased with a song and a dance.

He left her mind at once, and she felt completely naked. As though his power was a warming, soothing, reassuring blanket, the kind you didn't know you had on until it was removed, and one's bare skin is left vulnerable to the elements. It was not uncommon for a human to breathlessly cling and scratch, begging to have it all back, however traumatic or desperate an experience the mind-bending was.

He'd rolled her easily and now frolicked out of her mind with an unearthly smile, pinning her down, holding the back of her head to the wood, his hand covering her forehead. He had (apparently) gathered her arms and crossed them over her breasts, holding her chest down, neither forearm able to move.

He was breathing heavy, now. Heavy lidded. Drunk on yet another substance: fear. She knew now, through and through, that her fear and humiliation had fed him in some unholy way. His spine shuddered and he gave a giddy wiggle, looming over her.

“Say it.” He encouraged. “Say it to me, like you said it to him.” His breathing was heavier, more shallow, required more energy. “Say it now.” He growled, the pressure on her chest momentarily enough to take her breath away, in his shifting. The vampire straightened his legs, locking his knees, lifting his hips to Shauna, under the table.

“Say 'please'.” The words rumbled in his chest, leaning back with heated labor, face flush with blood.

He was close to orgasm.

“Say it or die, bitch.” The words did not sound like a voice, more like a scythe dragged across a long strip of sheet metal. Red swelled around the thick black dots of his eyes, intruded on the green, and the lids widened. “Say it or you'll never leave.” He promised, raspy, so desperately close.

A moment later, he was at his peak, and lurched forward, body spasmodically jerking forward and letting out a string of connected low moans. His hands released her, and he caught himself on the edge of the board.

“Oooh...” He finished, unable to open his eyes. “Oh my fuck...” He uttered, a new sensation on him, back arching out and carrying him to crash back into his seat fully extended, curving back like someone had tied a noose around his neck and dropped back down behind his chair. “That's...”

He panted, gripping the armrests, open-mouthed.

“That's the stuff.”

 

[Arianna]

Puzzled by the bizarre conversation, it distracted her enough so she was able to think almost normally for a moment, as though she were merely at home in bed not trapped in a horrific web of tainted evil. It sounded like the vampires were playing a simple game of Monopoly; she recognized the names of the properties, Waterworks and North Carolina being two that she always set out to acquire when she played the game as a youth. Still, she knew they were speaking about something much deeper, the properties merely metaphors for something else. Vampire territories perhaps? She shivered, wondering how many of these monsters roamed in their midst, hiding in the shadows like aberrant predators, the city streets providing them a veritable buffet of human suffering. Yes, it was the only thing that made sense, but it proved too difficult to analyze given her current state of mind.

Her gaze still locked on the room, and knowing less than twenty feet separated her from freedom, Lexi flattened her palms on the table, ready to bolt in the next breath, but it was too late. The monster was addressing her with a menacing tone in his voice that brought fresh fear to the surface, her breathing increasing rapidly until it came in shallow ragged heaves. She cringed at his ominous words and the patronizing way he called her “little doll”. A growing sense of alarm that something was coming, made her tense, and clench her teeth...and then he moved, grabbing her so forcefully she gasped. His hands slipped beneath her knee and neck, twisting her body unnaturally, his thumb pressing painfully at the base of her skull, to the point she saw black and white dots swimming before her eyes, threatening to make her pass out from the pressure he inflicted, while he forced her to look at the other man. Her hips lifted off the table, her muscles quivering as she instinctually fought to press downwards, but it was futile, he was simply too strong. She felt utterly powerless, like a twig about to be snapped in half, and she panicked, bucking against the jarring movements as he shook her, psychologically clawing against the terrifying sensation of being poised in the air and knowing she could fall to the ground with a crash at any moment.

Certain he couldn’t humiliate any further, he then did the unthinkable, and began manipulating her like a puppet, forcing her to perform a macabre little dance simply for his amusement. The more she attempted to resist, the more painful it became, and she whimpered softly, hating how pathetically clumsy he made her feel. There was no choice but to go slack, allowing him to move her body any way he wanted, and she loathed it. Tears of helpless humiliation welled up in her eyes now wide with misery and she refused to look at Arnaud, refusing to let him revel in her disgrace. The mocking falsetto of the puppet master’s voice stabbed her pride like a dagger, carving fresh wounds across her self-respect with each word, making her feel more worthless than the ventriloquist’s dummy she’d become, a caricature of humanity whose sole purpose was to incite laughter in its audience. He had taken her beyond the threshold of victim, where at least there is some dignity in the knowledge that your life meant something to your attacker, and thrust her into contemptuous ridicule, assigning her no more value than a piece of garbage given one last use before being tossed into the trash bin. She might have been able to forgive his earlier torment if he had simply let her die believing he desperately needed her, that regardless of how perverted his urges, they were beyond his control, and the sacrifice of her life used to fill an immoral hunger. That dreadful yet intimate dance between killer and victim was at least was something she could understand and hold onto, a fragment of something she always knew existed within humanity and never expected to face...but she could not forgive this obloquy, never this.

Arnaud’s laughter floated around the table, grinding salt into her wounded pride until her shame burned hotter, searing her skin with the agonizing heat of it, and she longed to reach out and claw the ridiculous grin off his appalling face. She hated him almost as much as the one who held her, and watching him undulating to the rhythm of the woman’s mouth stroking him up and down made her stomach churn.

The two vampires continued to speak creating tension so thick it hung in the air like a cloud, stretched across the table, and it made Lexi quiver. The game had changed, something palpable yet beyond her understanding, and her pulse raced from the unknowing…the uncertainty of what it meant for her. As she listened to the exchange, her gaze flew to Arnaud’s, something hovered in his eyes, a fleeting disquiet, or perhaps even pity. Whatever it was, she sensed he wasn't pleased with the dark one's treatment of her, and that ignited a flame of hope in Lexi, one that sputtered and died the moment he cast a withering glance, communicating his displeasure over her unwillingness to give him what he wanted.

Lexi froze as icy fingers of dread snaked across her skin, but Arnaud’s offer to take her away and exchange her with someone else, gave her some measure of hope, and her eyes searched his, pleading with him to help her. The monster had become a shining beacon, an unexpected saviour, and the only one who might have enough power to rescue her from the clutches of something even worse. She could almost feel joy, that wondrous surge of relief that comes from knowing a trial by fire is about to end, and then...once again her monster cruelly snatched it away. His words were thick with the promise of retribution, and Lexi wilted, feeling utterly deflated and lost, no longer affected by the forced shaking of her body. Her only chance at revenge evaporated before her very eyes, and that he knew she’d attempted to deny him, was a crushing defeat.

The dark vampire’s hand released her leg, and she fell hard onto the table from the unexpected move, still staring at Arnaud, but with a vacant far away expression in her luminous hazel eyes. Aware of a soft shuffling sound and Arnaud’s interest switching to a place beyond her field of vision, the one pinning her down said her name with a voice that made her recoil; she hated to hear it fall from the lips of someone so despicable. When he turned her head, forcing her to witness the contents of her purse laying exposed beside her, she jerked, wanting to scream out in protest against the invasion of privacy, but she couldn’t...no wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He was pondering something, but it was the unholy excitement lighting his dark face, that filled Lexi with terror, and when his eyes locked on hers she squirmed, letting out several erratic breaths as her hands flew to her throat in an instinctual gesture of protection. An iridescent cascade of sparkling emerald mist drifted outwards from the darkened pools of his eyes, curling around and biting into her flesh like talons. It was so unsettling, she bucked on the table, her hips arched, and her boots made loud drumming sounds as she attempted to lift and bend her legs, desperate to escape the essence infiltrating her senses. Whimpering now from sheer panic, she struggled to turn her head away, pursing her lips in a vain attempt to block it, but he held her firm. Her eyes became huge luminous orbs brimming with fear, and she began choking as the mist enveloped her, suffocating her with its intensity until she knew the terror of a drowning victim. It filled her completely, and with an involuntary gasping breath, she went limp; a black abyss enveloped and swallowed her whole until she was aware of nothing except emptiness and his seductive voice beckoning from a place she could no longer see.

Floating in the dark void, from somewhere deep in her subconscious she knew he held her head in one hand, while the other gently crossed her arms over her breast before sliding downwards, slipping underneath her shirt until the warmth of his palm pressed on her bare skin. At the moment of contact, she felt an agonizing pulling sensation from the place his hand rested on her belly, and then a rush of energy as he merged with her very soul, shattering all her barriers, leaving her no defences, no ability to withstand this most heinous of attacks. His persuasive voice was like a silken caress, alluring and comforting, compelling her to ignore the shrieking of her conscious mind, that cognizant part of her still lingering somewhere in the background railing against the intrusion and resurfacing of painful memories buried so long ago. A tiny voice cried out from the recesses of her mind…No!…but he commanded, and her soul obeyed.

…No! This can’t be happening! Where’s my mom, she’s supposed to be here. Her eyes locked on the knife, flashing from sunlight glinting off cold steel. Oh my God, he’s going to kill me! Lexi was too frozen with fear and didn’t hear the junkie demanding her purse.

Growing angrier, the man yelled at her, but she stood dumbstruck, unbelieving that all he wanted was her purse. Please, somebody help me! The words tore through her mind, but her vocal cords were paralyzed. She could only stand there mute and wide-eyed with fear, waiting for the thrust of the knife.

She saw him as a shrouded assassin, not a pathetic purse-snatcher, but as the seconds ticked by, she heard, “What are you, retarded?”

Just hand him the purse! Her logical mind shouted it, snapping her out of the zone of terror that left her vulnerable, so very, very vulnerable.

Stung by the insult, she stepped back, thrusting out her purse, begging him with her eyes to take it and go. “Please…” It was a plea for her life, the only word she was able to utter, and she held her breath, waiting…

He snatched the purse away while screaming obscenities at her, and Lexi winced, shaking like a leaf. She almost felt relief thinking surely it would be over now, until his eyes met hers and she saw the plans he had for her dancing inside them, the stuff of his wet dreams, a willing captive, someone to play with and fulfill his fantasies. RUN…get out of here! The voice of self-preservation urged to flee, but her feet remained rooted to the ground, she was still too petrified to move, and then…she knew…knew her hesitation was inviting him to take her, make her a victim.

In that moment, with her assailant now gone, she understood true shame; the realization that she had allowed someone so pathetic to wield such power over her was humbling and excruciating. Shivering from adrenaline and cold, she began sobbing, feeling utterly disgraced and mortified with herself. I let him…I LET HIM!

An unseen force pulled her away from the trauma and horror at the convenience store, and a face appeared, consuming her entire awareness. A hauntingly beautiful, ethereal face with luminescent green eyes hovered over her, enticing and yet forbidding. Feeling warm and safe, she wanted to reach out and touch him, unsure if the vision was real. And then…she felt him taking everything that she was and is, twisting and measuring it, before deciding what he would keep and what would be tossed aside. It was the most demeaning moment of her life, and she was unable to so much as object, incapable of even lifting a finger against him. He defiled her with cold precision and she felt every icy touch upon her being until her soul bled, all the while nestled in his secure embrace. The monster…her monster.

He vacated her body and mind with calculated swiftness, leaving her gasping and reeling from the chilling exposure, the warm safety of his guiding presence ripped away, leaving only the raw pain, shame and guilt in his wake. Pain from the memory, shame at allowing him to rape her soul, and guilt for wanting him back, or anything he could give her to take away the agony she now faced. He’d left her with nothing, no shields to put back in place, no will to fight, and tears stung at the corner of her eyes…”Say it”…she knew what he wanted and it hurt, more than anything ever had before.

How could he do that to her, share her most precious possession, the very essence of who she was, and feel nothing? The only thing that made it more demeaning was knowing they were not alone, that everyone in the room had witnessed her shaming, and he had done it while Shauna pleasured him beneath the very table she lay on. It was beyond crushing, but so was the realization that she lacked the will to deny him any longer. Blinking up at the ceiling as the first tears slid down the side of her face, she flinched at the caustic threat to kill her if she didn’t comply, knowing that he demanded far more than a mere word; no…he wanted her to give him the same control over her fear that she had the junkie so many years ago.

It would shatter her entirely to do it, but with no willpower left, even in the face of death, she was ready now, to give him what he wanted, anything to stop the agony. Casting a glance towards him, she saw the rapture on his face and felt nauseous at the thought he was going to climax after what he’d done to her. She squeezed her eyes shut when he lurched forward, unable to watch it, and then…his hand was gone, nothing held her down any longer.

At last, free of his touch and devastating assault, elation was instantaneous, infusing her with energy in a way she never would have imagined given the total surrender she felt but a second ago. Sensing the opportunity to make her escape, it was as though the dam finally burst, and all the feelings she had miraculously managed to repress during the ordeal, rushed forward like a colossal tidal wave. White-hot fury exploded from her very core, until it threatened to overwhelm her with its intensity; the flames of anger rising higher, cleansing away the fear and humiliation, until her eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light, eyes for no one but him. Turning now to fully face the vile monster, he was still reeling from his climax, the rapturous release given to him by Shauna was written all over his terrible face, oozing outwards from his entire being, as though reaching to draw her in, and Lexi shrank away as though it were poison, thoroughly disgusted.

Venomous hatred for her tormentor seethed from every cell in her body, mercifully filling the excruciating void left behind by the Vampire’s brutal rape of her memories, and she nursed it, turning it into a soothing balm to heal her desecrated soul. Glaring at him with undisguised loathing, she shot upwards to a seated position, shaking violently as hot tears spilled onto her cheeks, now flushed pink with the rush of emotion. Clenching her fists until her fingernails dug painfully into her palms, she spat at his face, shrieking maniacally. “FUCK…YOU! YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!”

Glancing around furtively in those final few seconds, she remembered...Shauna! She desperately wanted to free her friend, grab her hand and run away, never looking back, but the woman was trapped underneath the very table Lexi’s body held firm and she had no choice but to leave her saviour behind. With a choked cry of anguish, she vaulted off the table, snatching her wallet and Margaret’s little phone book in one hand before her feet hit the floor, and then bolted for the door. Refusing to look back, she thrust past the bouncers with almost inhuman strength born of the sheer will to survive, both men taken completely by surprise at the unexpected motion. Oblivious to everything except the sounds of her pounding heart and gasping breath, she flew down the stairs, running faster than ever before in her life. Reaching the dance floor in seconds, while hollering at people to move, she frantically pushed the swaying dancers out of the way, shoving them to the floor until she was able to burst through the side door that led to the alleyway.

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind her with a loud crash. It was the sweetest sound she ever heard; confirmation a thick, safe wall now separated her from the nightmare on the other side. Warm humid air enveloped her like a cloak of salvation, and she held out her arms, turning her face to the glowing night sky as though trying to release the evil still gripping some part of her mind. With deep gulping breaths, she inhaled greedily, as though suddenly saved from drowning, willing the fresh air to cleanse away the stench still permeating her senses.

Finally free from the monsters, but on the verge of hysteria, she began trembling and crying uncontrollably. Great wracking sobs shook her entire body, until she coughed and gagged, her arms wrapping around her waist while she leaned over, unable to stop the bile rising in her throat. Her gut wrenched, a sharp stabbing pain so powerful she almost collapsed, falling to her knees as her stomach heaved its contents onto the black pavement, over and over again, until the acid burned her nose and mouth, and nothing more remained.

Kneeling on the hard ground, the sound of a siren jolted her to action, and she stood up, weaving slightly as though about to lose her balance, and then she began running, out of the alley and as far away from Hell as possible. She ran to the street, unaware of the startled pedestrians shocked at her stricken appearance. One older woman, with gray hair and kind blue eyes stepped forward, asking lexi if she was all right. “My dear what happened, you look absolutely put through the wringer,” she said, concern etched on her weathered face.

Lexi swayed and looked at the woman, barely seeing or hearing her, but managed to reply. “Taxi…home.”

The good Samaritan frowned, clearly wondering if Lexi was on drugs, but hailed a cab anyway, helping the young woman climb inside the yellow and white Chevrolet that pulled to a screeching halt at the curb side.

Lexi shrank into the back seat of the Taxi, and managed to mumble her address. A blessed numbness took over her body, and she stared out the window, not really seeing anything as the cab whisked her further and further away from the nightmare. It took no more than fifteen minutes, the entire trip just one big blur of lights and traffic sounds for Lexi, and when the car stopped, she blindly handed the driver some bills and opened the door, exiting at the front of her apartment complex.

She practically ran up the granite steps, and with trembling hands, fished the keys out of her pocket, fumbling at the lock until it gave way and shoved open the double glass doors.

Too impatient to wait for the elevator, she raced through the opulent lobby, the bright light from the dangling crystal chandeliers making her squint, and she shielded her eyes with her right arm. Flinging open the door to the staircase, she ran up the three flights of stairs to the third floor, and walked to her apartment door, heart pounding until safely inside, where she quickly locked the deadbolt, and swung around, her breathing rapid from exertion and the joy of being home…safe.

 

[MrBurke]

The ride home, uneventful, would be blurry indeed. The driver would hurry, both for the health of his tip and out of an instinctual urge to dump the customer as fast as possible. The radio captain had contacted the driver, and asked, "Unit thirty-eight, this is dispatch, confirm uhh... status and location, over." He'd given the name and place of his destination previously, of course, and scribbled her into a log, and the confirmation felt like somebody else's mistake.

The cabdriver did not at first respond, and stared straight ahead with a miserable expression on his face.

"Uhh thirty-eight this is dispatch, are you there, over?"

The cabbie removed the tiny microphone from its holder and sighed. "Yeah."

"Thirty eight is that you?"

"Yeah."

"Unit thirty-eight report in on status and location, over."

"South on... Windetta. Heading toward Michael Street."

"Unit thirty-eight, what is the exact address?"

The cab driver read the numbers back off his clipboard.

"Are you currently with client, over?"

"Yeah."

"Report on that, over."

"It's a young female, single." His jaw worked, and the muscles in his cheeks flexed with tension. It can be a long fourteen hours when you don't like one of the dispatchers, especially if they hate you right back.

"Report in again when you drop her off, over." The man on the other side squawked. He sounded like a small person.

The cabbie did not respond.

This woman was bizarre, and the driver did not appreciate being put on the spot. When the dispatch chased special fares, it sometimes meant the cops were looking for somebody. It always meant somebody was looking for somebody, and what got looked into and why was not made the concern of the drivers. Carl the cab driver was hoping to keep it that way.

The cab disappeared, but was replaced by another of the same company one hour and twenty-eight minutes later.

Shauna would stumble out of a cab, and drift to the door, running her fingers down the buzzers for every unit in the place. Several people buzzed in to ask who it was, and she waited to say, "Hey. It's me. Let me up." And the buzzers rang through, unlocking the handle and granting her access to the complex.

She floated through the lobby and into the elevator, her clothes mussed, a shine taken to her with the glazed over eyes and thin sheen of sweat oozing heatedly out over her too-pale skin. She looked ill, and feverish. The leather of her hot pants squeaked while she walked, tugging dreamily at her tube top and shooing hair out of her face. One foot in front of the other, her stiff legs carried her down the hallway of Alexandra's third floor, and came to slump against the back of her door.

"Hello?" She knocked, sliding down to her knees, sitting in the doorway, leaning heavy on the wood. She knocked continuously. "Lexi..." She croaked, dropping her hands at her sides. Her head lolled up to stare at the ceiling, a single red dot decorating the fleshy area in the crook of her elbow. She'd been shot up, and dropped here, come searching for Lexi. The address and room number were written in pen below the shot on her left arm, the writing too messy and masculine to conceivably belong to the well-kept Shauna's.

If the door would open, she would with it, and sprawl onto her back the second there was room to. Until that happened, she would sit propped, and talk to Lexi through the door.

"Lexi... it's me." She called out, singing the words with haunting dismay. "It's me, I'm here to get you." She stared blankly at the white tile above her. "It's your big sister." Tears welled up, falling silently on porcelain cheeks. Relaxed. Void. Expressionless.

Her eyes were black, like a crab's, completely dark. There were no whites in her eyes, that is to say, the flesh of her lids just opened up into a shroud. Her chin rested on her collarbone, limp-necked, the muscles in her body lax, leaving her draped over the threshold.

"Lexi." She called out, knocking again. "I have something to show you." Shauna called through the wood of the door.

Her body lurched, curled her into a ball for the moment, and the skin on her back stretched with the rearrangement of joints and musculature structure. Her jaw extended with the swelling of muscle up under her throat, and the veins in her arms stood out while the bone mass reconstituted itself and expanded to support the increasing weight and demand of her changing body.

"I want to tell you a joke." She called out, distantly.

 

[Arianna]

Apt. 324, 5200 Harbourside Drive was empty, dark and silent. Leaning against the door, still feeling completely numb, Lexi flicked on the lights which cast a warm welcoming glow that reflected off the soft taupe walls. The entire apartment was decorated in muted earth tones, relaxing and inviting with a Zen ambiance, with a mix of pale cream leather and dark mahogany wood furniture. The accessories were minimal, a few pieces of art here and there, but it was tastefully done, and enhanced the overall sense of peace and serenity. It was Lexi’s oasis, her escape from the world, but it could offer little comfort now.

Choking back a sob, she ran down the hall, her heels clicking loudly on the gleaming dark wood floor, and burst into her bedroom, a large room dominated by a double bed with a simple, fluffy cream duvet and matching overstuffed pillows; the rest of the decor mirrored the rest of the apartment, with a dark wood dresser, matching night tables and a few pieces of oriental art on the walls. Stylish and unpretentious just like Alexandra.

Standing beside the bed, she turned on the bedside lamp with trembling fingers, and with an anguished cry, tore at her clothes until she stood naked, and they lay strewn on the floor at her feet, desperate to be free of anything touched by evil. She ran to the adjoining bathroom, the most luxurious room in the apartment, with its beige travertine marble walls and floor, the double shower carved into the wall had no doors, just a semi-wall of marble, which Lexi rushed behind, hurriedly twisting the chrome handle until a cascade of water splashed down, so hot it seared her skin and steam curled around her body. Shuddering and whimpering, she began frantically scrubbing, as though trying to remove every trace of the vampire, but she realized that nothing could remove the essence of him that still lingered in her soul. The blessed numbness holding her together, cruelly abandoned her in that moment, leaving only the agonizing aftermath of raw pain and the shattered pieces of her psyche, broken beyond her ability to put them back together again. Robbed of the comforting presence of the emotional shields that take people a lifetime to build, her entire being felt exposed and vulnerable, and ached with a need for solace that remained coldly elusive. Sobbing harder now, she squeezed her eyes shut, hugged her arms around her chest, and slowly slumped down until she sat huddled in the corner of the shower, the hot water running in rivulets down her back, her long hair plastered to her face.

An image of Shauna’s face drifted through her mind, and overwhelming guilt added to the already heavy burden in her heart. It was guilt at leaving behind the brave woman who did the best she could to protect a total stranger by putting herself in harm’s way without a second thought. That selfless act defied logic, and it was something Lexi would likely never be able to let go of. She always prided herself on being fearless and compassionate, but she had never faced monsters, and so she never could have imagined being forced to make such a terrible choice. People often speak about the powerful nature of our instinct for self-preservation, but most scoff at the idea it can take over and compel even the bravest of individuals to put their own life above another. Even Lexi herself would have declared there was no way in Hell she would do such a thing, and yet, tonight, she learned that lesson in the most painful way possible.

Still huddled on the shower floor, she cried until the water turned cold and there were no more tears left to fall, the post breakdown calm beginning to fill some of the emptiness and give her a much needed sense of focus. Forcing herself to rise, she turned off the water, and walked out of the shower, absently grabbing a white cotton robe and putting it on, without bothering to dry off first. Brushing the wet tendrils of hair off of her face, she moved into her bedroom, and then jumped with a startled cry when the phone rang. Fighting against rising panic, she slowly picked up the receiver, and then relief swept over her when she heard David Gibbons familiar voice.

“Finally…where the fuck have you been?! You ran out of the office this afternoon like the devil was after you and then nothing! I was worried, it’s not like you to take off like that and forget to call and gloat.” He paused, waiting for her to answer, but she stood dumbstruck, as though not able to process a normal conversation. “Don’t you dare try and tell me it’s nothing, I know you too well.” He chuckled. “So, will it be on the front page tomorrow? Need any help making the deadline?” He asked cheerfully.

“I…I…I’m sorry David, I should have called.” Her voice was calm while she searched for something to say that he would ‘believe’. “This story won’t be ready for tomorrow’s deadline,” she said flatly. “I need more time to investigate.”

David’s voice became concerned. “Hey, are you all right kiddo? I don’t like the sound of your voice. What is this story? You don’t usually rattle this easily.”

“No, no…everything is fine.” She lied, tears welling up in her eyes again from the urge to open up to him, accept the gesture of friendship he offered, but she couldn’t. It was impossible to wrap her own head around everything that happened, let alone try to explain it to someone else. “I’m just tired, and was almost asleep when you called. Sorry,” she said in a voice resembling her usual self. “Thanks for calling though, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight David.” Hanging up the phone, Lexi sat down on the bed, her hands hanging loosely in her lap, staring at the floor.

A knock at the door sent fresh anxiety rushing through Lexi’s entire body, and her gaze flew to the hallway. Frozen with fear, she imagined hearing Shauna’s voice and tears welled up in her eyes again, until she heard it again. Oh my God…it is her! Elation made Lexi smile. Dashing into the hall, she reached the door and started undoing the security latch, when she stopped. Wait…how did she know where I lived? Then a terrible sinking feeling wiped the smile off her face...she knew. It’s a trap…they’re waiting for you and using her…don’t open the door!

Her hand stilled, and she looked out the peephole, but couldn’t see anything except the distorted view of her neighbor’s door across the corridor. The pathetic female voice called out to her…"Lexi... it's me."… "It's your big sister." Unable to stop the tears, Lexi slumped against the door, torn between opening it and embracing her earlier savior, and staying safely locked inside, but she stayed motionless...there was no way Shauna could have known her address…no way at all.

"Lexi."... Shauna was knocking again. “I have something to show you.”

"I want to tell you a joke."

Lexi cried out softly in anguish, her cheeks stained wet with tears, and placed her hand on the door as though trying to connect with the woman on the other side. Oh Shauna! What happened …it’s all my fault…I should have never left you…I’m so, so sorry. She sobbed, feeling the full weight of her guilt a thousand fold until it threatened to suffocate her.

The buzzing of her intercom startled Lexi, and she looked up at the little black and white video screen on the wall beside the door, to see David standing there demanding entry. Oh no David! Oh please God go away…please…please… She stayed perfectly still, listening to the sound of silence on the other side of the door, and prayed that Shauna had left, but a gnawing instinct told her she was waiting for Lexi.

Flicking her gaze to the monitor again, she sucked in her breath, David had opened the door. Shit, shit, shit! No! Knowing that David was likely walking into a trap, she jumped up, snapped the deadbolt and flung open the door intending to run as fast as she could to intercept David, but tripped over Shauna who fell into the entrance of Lexi’s apartment, apparently from leaning on the door. A horrified expression swept across Lexi’s face…”Oh Shauna NO!…what have they done to you!”

 

[MrBurke]

“What did...” She spat a thick wad of black, foamy blood into the carpet, rolling to hold herself off the ground with arms alone. Her jaw worked, like she'd just been punched, and the teeth rolling out of her gums seemed to flex in alternating growth and retraction. Her eyes were glassy. Her skin was white, too white, far too pale. Her veins stood out. Her hair looked greased, and shined in the light. Fingernails split with the protuberances ebbing under her skin, threatening to break loose at any second. Red volcanic lines of flesh split down to her knuckles and different shades of red leaked out onto the carpet.

“What did they do.” She repeated, accusing eyes zeroing in hotly. “What did they do?” She dragged herself closer, legs limp, struggling with the weight of her own body. “They.” She shuddered inhumanly, the spiny ends of her vertebrae stretching the fabric of her clothes.

“I don't... know, Lexi.” She balked, lurching forward, as though in the throes of nausea. “What did they do to me?” A sardonic curl of a smile split her bleeding mouth for seconds only, the dripping crimson there mingling with her saliva and stretching down to the floor, quivering with the acute tremblings of its host. She looked very cold.

She spasmed again, and this time did vomit, spattering darkness on Alexandra's doorstep, elbows quaking uncontrollably while she struggled. A desperate moan, and her back arched, the swollen bones of her back poking out through her skin and clothing all at once, like once-dormant quills on a porcupine, or a suddenly activated roadway spike strip.

“What did you do to me...” She said the words almost to herself, gazing somehow past her target, pushing forward, clawing at the carpet to bring herself nearer. “What did you let them do...” She gripped anew, the stylish cobalt blue underfoot rippling and bunching in her grasp for another surge forward.

“Why did you leave me?” Yellow eyes never looked so human, real despair washing over her in a wave of melancholy, drowning the beast momentarily while pink tears dotted from the inner corners of her eyes and streaked down that once-beautiful face. It was a stark contrast to the shadowy mass accumulating around the corners of her mouth, oozing over her lip, staining her chin, dotting the carpet. So grotesque a thing had never graced these halls, and the limp, useless legs behind her shifted and broke with sound equivalent to a head of lettuce when twisted to failure.

“How could you?” She began to weep openly, now, her shoulders bobbing, gripping the floor again, dragging still closer. She'd made it an astonishing six feet in so short a period, time all but stopped in the horror. It would dawn on Lexi that this aberration would be upon her sooner than later.

This kind of pain was typically reserved for the basements of serial killers or the confines of a maternity ward, such agonizing cries as escaped her thin neck. Her heart wrenched with agony as the shafts of her shins bent back, split totally, the fluids and rent tissue accumulating inside the elastic of her skin to whirl into something quite different. The jagged edges of her broken structure healed over, blunted, and accrued cartilage. Ligaments and tendons sealed to the hard surfaces and accommodated musculature structure, the burst veins and artery winding like spun rope while cells never meant for a human body worked busily to bond, form walls, twist into tubular structures and guide still more.

The pores of her body opened up and let fly slick black fur, shoulders widening, the small bones in her hands stretching well out of the skin – skeletal, at first, then rows of flesh wound like thickening rows of army ants, or a vine when viewed in five-hundred times accelerated timelapse footage.

When Shauna assessed Lexi again, it was not a piteous look she received.

It was one of impossible hunger.

 

[Arianna]

Lexi stood watching the grotesque transformation wracking Shauna’s once shapely female body, with absolute horror and disbelief etched on her pale, stricken face. Clutching her soft white robe in a fist tightly to her chest, she didn’t even realize how ridiculous and futile the gesture was, or that it could in no way protect her from the repulsive beast materializing in the impeccable yet bland beige and blue hallway, like something out of a graphic horror film. Blinking back hot tears, each heart breaking word Shauna spoke was punctuated by the sickening sounds of tearing flesh and cracking bone, causing Lexi to wince with each splintering snap, and will herself awake from the nightmare, all to no avail.

Of course, Alexandra could not awaken because it was alas no nightmare, it was her cruel new reality, and there was no question in her mind exactly who had done this to Shauna and how. The memory of that unholy glowing cocktail administered to the unsuspecting hookers in the VIP room was too painful, too fresh, and renewed hatred for the two callous monsters who perpetrated it bubbled up inside her so powerfully, it threatened to sever the thin thread of sanity she could barely hold onto as it was. Torn between wanting to kneel down beside Shauna and comfort her, and the urge to flee from the disgusting mass of quivering flesh the woman had become, Lexi swallowed the sour taste of bile rising in her throat and backed away until she slammed against her door. Her bare feet tripped painfully over the protruding metal threshold causing her to stumble backwards into the front entrance and she cursed aloud. With heart pounding and eyes wide with fear, she realized she was going the wrong way, she needed to get out of the building entirely, not go further into her apartment where she’d be trapped like a rat in a maze, at the mercy of some insane lab scientist and certain to die.

When Shauna lurched forward again, Lexi quickly shuffled sideways until she managed to brace herself by grasping the door frame, and slip back around into the open hallway, shrinking away to avoid any kind of physical contact as she did so. However, when she saw the sheer amount of blood oozing from the young female body, and how it was now misshapen and twisted beyond repair, she heard Shauna's accusations which stabbed painfully at her heart and magnified the intensity of her guilt, far beyond her shattered soul's ability to cope. Lexi shuddered and let out an anguished cry. “Shauna…please, I didn’t know…how could I have possibly known they would do this to you?!”

She pleaded with her, begging her to listen, but Shauna was too far gone now and completely unseeing, and unhearing. Still, Lexi was desperate for her to understand and even more desperate to be forgiven. “Shauna! Please! Listen to me! It’s not too late, come with me, let me take you back to the club and force them fix it.”

Though she said the words and wanted to believe them, deep down she knew it was impossible, nothing could help the woman now and she truly didn’t think she could face the Vampire again, not even to save Shauna. Hot tears of guilt and frustration slid down her cheeks and she began sobbing uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking from the force of it. “Oh Shauna…I’m so sorry, so…incredibly… sorry. You have to believe me…if I had known I would never have left without you.”

Once again, Lexi wanted to believe what she said was true, but overwhelming guilt at the realization it likely wasn’t, came crashing down upon her so hard and fast, she began gasping for breath from the suffocating weight of it.

The loud gut wrenching screams ripping from Shauna’s delicate throat, startled Lexi back to the reality of what she now faced, and then she suddenly remembered…David! Oh, how could she have forgotten David! Her good friend and boss could wander unwittingly into this mess at any moment and Lexi couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him. If it did, it would be her fault, and she’d never forgive herself. No she had to make sure he stayed away...far away. Her new driving need to see David safe was the only thing that kept her from completely breaking down and she looked furtively around the hallway, searching for any sign he was already there, but relief swept over her when she saw he wasn't.

Still, he should have been there by now, but it dawned on her he must be trying the elevator, and she had never been so grateful for the slow contraption she cursed every day, for surely that had to be the reason he wasn't there yet. Then just as she tried to think of a way to stop the elevator, the entire building went dark; the power had either gone out or been cut off and Lexi shivered violently from a sense of foreboding that wrapped around her entire body like an ice-cold sheet.

She cried out with surprise a moment later when the emergency lights flicked on, and though they were bright, the narrow beams merely cast an eerie antiseptic white glow on the walls, interspersed with frightening shadows that threatened from every corner. With one last glance at Shauna, Lexi shuddered and froze at what she saw. The transformation from woman to beast was now complete, and the look of sheer hunger and malice on the “thing’s” face was petrifying. It was so grotesque and disturbing, it forced Lexi to finally succumb to her fear and scream in terror from the depths of her soul while vaulting blindly for the door to the staircase as fast as she could, far too afraid to look back and see how close it was. In that moment, she was acting on the human instinct to run away from certain death, and nothing could make her stop and look back…nothing.

 

[MrBurke]

The stairs would offer an impossibly long trip, at first uneventful and thick with the echos of her desperate panting and frantic clattering footsteps. It would not be until she had fled three flights that the heavy metal door she'd exited from smashed open and chipped the cinder brick behind the doorhandle, the flecks of composite sprinkling over the floor as loud and telltale as some kind of excitable chirping locust. The door's trimphant swing inward went off like a gunshot, and the unmistakable click-clack of claws on cement followed a few exploratory huffing sniffs of the air. With a low, feline mrowl the beast stumbled down its first flight of stairs, pausing, a few bizarre stabalizing footsteps, and then another crashing over-eager lunge brought the thing a floor closer. It sounded frustrated, and continued again, stopping mid-flight this time and then hurrying on without pausing for another floor. Then she heard it stop again, slow its progress, listening intently, hurrying and slowing with the rythm her footsteps made.

When she would wind the flat surface of a landing, the thing would seem to cease moving. Then, when she hit the loud stairs, it would follow suit, as if to disguise its progress. A terrible job it made of that, every heaving breath and hungry roar of its stomach perfectly audible, even over the painful thudding of Alexandria's own heart. But concealment did not adequately justify its erraticism, nor the trouble she heard it have managing the stairs. Every time it reached a new level she was positive it loomed directly over her shoulder, close enough to touch, but no confrontation ever came, its own setbacks and delirium elongating the chase excruciatingly.

Finally she reached the ground floor, and in letting the door slam behind her did not hear it immediately reopen, as the expectation would doubtlessly be.

The lobby would be deserted, and the harsh, blinding, somehow inadequate emergency lights bathed walkways with white and left the corners and walls black. The furnature that had, in daytime, looked so harmlessly and haphazardly angled, now threatened to conceal any number of enemies laying in wait. There would be no question in her mind that her life was in danger, even beyond the harrowing menace that was even now stalking her every warm footstep on the stairs and along the rug leading toward the door she now approached. That was perhaps the worst part of it; the frantic knowledge in the back of her head that this clawing, ravening beast was likely the least of her troubles, and escaping it now only meant waiting for yet another attack. There were emergency exits, three in fact, but these ran down corridors hidden behind glass doors that housed the on-site janitorial staff and security heads, and were too far away to even consider chasing down. The most easily accessible exit was the main one, the front entrance, and it was in the chamber of doorways that house the buidling's intercom system and fuse box that David Gibbons stood, rattling the doorhandle and giving her a playful, quizzical look.

That look, however, turned sour when he saw the look on her face, and a good many years of arriving just before or just after something terrible happened jerked at pieces inside of him not every man has. He knew the smell of danger, the taste of it, and danger knew him back. Long time acqaintences, the murky black that followed true death had been content to allow him witness to its deeds. Tonight it wanted him, more than anything else. His age and size made him a no-brainer target, far preferential over the lean, young, fast, fiery Lexi with all cylanders firing and adrenaline flooding her veins.

The door clicked open by Alexandria's hand before she knew she'd done it, and the familliar touch of cologne brought nostalgia and the comfort of friendship in a helpless, longing rush. His face paled, the blood in his skin sprinting to the vital organs inside him in a last-ditch effort to protect against surface cuts. His colon and urinary tract emptied at once on the off chance that a greivous blow to his intenstines might burst his bladder and leak toxins and wastes where they shouldn't go. She could look up into his face, those seconds stretching unnaturally and groaning against the strain - she could see that he had a clear view of what was coming, knew its shape, recognized mortality.

He could not waste time in looking at her.

Dust particles hung in the air between them, unmoving, Alexandria herself hyper-aware of everything in her presence, and the yellow of his teeth flashed when pink-red lips parted to mutter, "Run." and swung the light woman into the bar stretching horizontally across the swinging doors of the building. You would imagine these doors to open inward, but metal strips requiring pressure to open allowed easy acess from either side, no real reason existing to limit their acessability from either end. She would be thrown soundly, his arms closing around her middle and lifting, tossing, throwing the weight of his legs and lower back into a twisting lurch, one last feat of strength from a man who had once seemed immovable and wise beyond threat of victimization. The haunting knowledge in his eyes as he connected with her one last time was total, her feet off the ground and sailing quietly to the door, the two frozen in a tableau of missed opportunity and desperate pleading hopelessness. Their eyes met with a longing you might imagine more typical of soldiers in a field of war, or between two rock climbers trapped in an icy crevasse, realization striking them both that one of the two's situation is unsalvagable.

She would see his overcoat whirling behind him, carrying through the momentum of his hurling effort, witness the new sweat pushing out onto his forehead, watch the forlorn emotions whisper through their connecting gaze, and the inevitable glowing yellow eyes of whatever it was that had hunted her. Its attention was all for him, the greedy split fangs closing in on his shoulder at once, six inch long claws sinking into his hips, pointed black feline ears twitching with excitement, and then darkness, David himself sucked down to the floor and yanked into the rapidly folding rug to disappear into black. He would scream only once, and fall silent, the knashing of teeth and ripping of clothes overcoming all, a sick sucking noise escaping the doors as they swung closed at her feet. Her landing would be hard, bounce her first on the muscle tissue of her narrow behind, and skip hard against the space between her shoulderblades against the rough concrete. She would continue mere inches off the ground before landing a third time to scrape roughly, and stop, the noise inside fallen away while halogen lamps beamed sadly at small patches of tile inside.

 

[Arianna]

Lexi moved quickly through the stairwell as though chased by the devil himself, her bare feet slapped loudly on the cold concrete steps and whimpering cries escaped her lips as she ran in blind terror. By the time she reached the next landing and paused, a loud, splintering crash signalled that the beast had ripped through upstairs doorway where she had passed through only seconds before. The creature's probing mewling and grunting pierced the semi-darkness, and held the threat of hunger, but memory of the grotesque yellow eyes, and the knowledge it was controlled by some undeniable sentience, created the unholy combination that almost sent Lexi’s panic beyond the threshold of conscious reason.

As the seconds continued to tick by with agonizing slowness, a bizarre dance of predator and prey unfolded in the cell like atmosphere of the concrete staircase, where the ghastly monster seemed to know when Lexi was moving and mirrored every one of her movements exactly. It should have been impossible, and yet there was no other explanation for the sounds she heard. With each gust of chilled air rushing past her body, she feverishly glanced over her shoulder, convinced death was upon her, but there was nothing except emptiness. Nonetheless, there was no mistaking the fact that when Lexi moved, the beast moved, and had she been able to listen to the voice of logic, it would have been obvious that the monster appeared unable to navigate the staircase with ease. However, in her panicked state, she was aware of nothing except mind numbing fear, the pounding beat of her heart, and certain death pressing down upon her like a raging storm.

Torn between staying rooted to the spot and continuing to flee, the excruciating choice between life and death weighed heavily on Lexi’s mind, and in those few harrowing moments, the welcoming peace of surrender and resignation to death beckoned sweetly, promising a swift and painless end to the terrifying agony that seemed infinite in its torment. The urge to give up and be free pulled so strongly, that each new step became a monumental task, and her muscles screamed in protest with each foot forward. Had she not finally reached the ground floor, it is by no means certain that she would not have given up and succumbed to the inevitable fate that awaited her, fatigued as she was from hours of unrelenting pain and torture.

Bursting through the door to the lobby, she blinked against the shrill white light that seared her eyes and made it virtually impossible to see anything but lurking shadows. The metal door slammed shut and gave a momentary rush of relief, until she glanced around and realized she was all alone; nothing was going to stop the beast from gratifying its ravenous hunger. It was coming for her, and the quickest way out was through the front doors. Sprinting forward into a brisk run, her lungs burned and she panted heavily from the exertion but her eyes were finally able to focus and she saw David then, standing impatiently in the foyer between the two sets of doors, with a reproachful expression in his face for making him worry and wait. It was a look Lexi knew well, and one that rapidly transformed to fatherly concern when he saw her rushing towards him.


“David…go…get away!” Lexi screamed, her eyes shining with intensity, willing him to hear her and obey, but as her hand struck the door handle, the door gave way, and the wonderfully comforting scent of Bay Rum and spices wafted outwards and tugged at her heart. When their eyes met, years of memories flashed before her; the genuine affection and camaraderie shared between them, precious and pure, soothed her broken soul like a healing balm, until a gut wrenching knowing ripped it apart and a psychic dawning of what was to come cruelly took it away, merciless and swift. Lexi gripped the door handle until her knuckles turned white, her eyes searched David's now panicked brown ones, and a silent communication that hinted at final goodbyes and deep affection passed between them until she couldn't bear it and sobbed loudly. No! This is not happening, I will not let this happen!

Time stood still for her now and it was as though she were standing in a dark, silent moving tunnel that pulled her farther and farther away from David. Though mere inches away, he was lost to her now, no longer seeing her, but instead focused on the spectre of death looming in the distance, and she frantically tried to reach for him, but it was no use. Instead, he chose her life over his and she screamed when she saw it glowing in his eyes. “No!” She cried out of sheer frustration and protest when he threw her into the door behind him, but David’s aim was strong and true; the powerful thrust of his arm caused her to hit the outer doors with alarming speed and her slim body practically flew outside. The last thing she saw was the swirling of his beige overcoat and then…those terrible yellow eyes burning with immortal hunger. Finally, in one last fleeting moment, David was yanked downwards by the hulking monster as the ground rushed up to meet her. His one petrified scream and the sickening sounds of teeth meeting flesh and bone echoed in the night as she hit the ground hard on her backside, the jarring impact so hard it knocked the wind out of her, rendering it impossible to cry out against the sorrow and anguish at the horror taking place mere steps away. Gasping for breath as she continued to tumble down the hard steps, the sharp edges and rough concrete pounded and bruised the delicate flesh of her back, ribs and shoulders. When she finally landed on the pavement below still unable to breathe, her scraped and battered body lay as if paralyzed and all was silent save the sucking and gasping sounds from Lexi’s desperate need for oxygen.

As she lay there alone, sprawled on the sidewalk, the merciful shield of shock kept her safe and prevented her from dwelling on the truth of what had happened that night. In that moment she had no memory, only awareness of the physical need to breathe, but there would be a reckoning, and it was certain to be excrutiatingly painful. A wailing siren broke the silence, and red and white strobe lights came to an abrupt halt in front of the building. The ambulance had arrived quickly, and the only explanation for it was one of the neighbours must have heard the screaming and called 911. Two male paramedics, a blond one named Rickers and a dark haired one named Wilkes, as evidenced by their badges, rushed to Lexi’s side, and placed an oxygen mask on her face while taking her vital signs and shouting questions. “Miss…can you move? Can you feel your legs?”

Lexi’s frightened gaze flew from one to the other but she was unable to speak. It was clear to the paramedics she had numerous contusions and likely a broken rib or two, and within seconds, they had her secured in a neck brace, and gently lifted onto a gurney. Neither man noticed the black Mercedes Benz idling one block away, with two women inside watching the scene intently.

Once inside the ambulance, the paramedics started an I.V., but Lexi began to panic and struggled against them wildly, trying in vain to scream. Wilkes, stationed behind her head, looked up and nodded to Rickers, who prepared an injection and jabbed it into the vein on top of her right hand. Lexi gasped, her eyes grew wide and then she went limp, drifting into unconsciousness immediately.

Wilkes did a cursory exam and marked down her vital signs. He looked at the sheet and sighed. “Better call him. She’s pretty bad and I think she needs a doctor. He’ll know what to do.”

Rickers pulled out a cellphone from his pocket and dialed. “It’s me. We have the subject. Code 4, please advise.”

Several moments passed, and then he nodded. “Understood. Also, Code 10 at the last location,” he said matter of factly, and then snapped the phone shut.

Rising to climb into the driver’s seat, he glanced back at his partner. “We have instructions to bring her to the hospital, and we are expected to keep her sedated at all times. Beta Team will arrive to escort her home as soon as she is released.”

The ambulance sped down the freeway towards Bay City General, the mysterious black Mercedes following close behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several miles outside of the city, an imposing, gray stone manor house stood amidst acres of wooded and perfectly manicured grounds. The house itself had been constructed sometime during the early 1700’s, but in the Gothic Style of a medieval castle, and it still stood exactly as it had for over three hundred years. Rumours had circulated for centuries that the manor was originally built in Shropshire England around 1413, but an unknown benefactor brought it to the new world stone by stone, insisting every detail be resurrected exactly as it had been. Interestingly, anyone looking for information about the property or strange dwelling would soon discover there was nary a document or record to be found, and for some reason, none of the city’s clerical staff could ever seem to find the deed of ownership, and so it remained shrouded in mystery.

A sleek black limousine approached the looming, iron outer gates, and they slowly opened, allowing whomever it was to pass and drive up to park in circular driveway. A cloaked figure exited from the back of the car, and swiftly ran up the front steps, passing through the huge, carved double oak doors and rushing unseeing through the elegant entrance hall, stopping only just outside the door to the home’s impressive library, which was slightly ajar, allowing soft yellow light to spill out onto the thick Aubusson carpet. A cultured male voice with the barest hint of an English accent drifted out into the hall, and the mysterious figure pressed up against the wall before carefully peering through the gap in the door frame…listening.

“…but do not concern yourselves unduly. Though the situation is unexpected and of course concerning, rest assured I have Alpha team on the ground as we speak and they have never failed, as you well know.”

He swung around in the big leather chair and leaned his head back, smiling confidently, holding the phone’s receiver casually against his ear. He was in his mid 50’s, about 5’ 10” with an average build and was moderately handsome. His thick wavy dark blond hair had a dusting of white at the temples lending a distinguished appearance, and his piercing grey blue eyes and hawk like nose spoke to his noble British heritage.

A fire blazed in the marble framed hearth at the opposite end of the room, and the mahogany desk where the man was seated, appeared dwarfed by the floor to ceiling bookshelves lining every wall, which housed a collection of books and parchment documents that rivalled those contained in all the greatest libraries in Europe combined. A curious coat of arms mounted on the wall above the fireplace, drew the eye with is dramatic black background and four symbols, a pewter bat with wings spread, a golden snake coiled around a silver sword, a blue Templar cross, a great grey wolf poised to strike, and a curving banner with the motto, Video, Vidi, Visum.

“Yes, yes, I am well aware of what is at stake. No, I will do nothing of the kind, and implore you not to forget that we must remain impartial. Any misstep on our part would be unconscionable, and would no doubt be perceived as an insult.”

The man’s voice had a hard edge to it now, the kind of tone that conveyed authority and growing impatience. “Alpha team will do only what they have been instructed to do by me; assess the situation and report back. I will not go to phase two until I am convinced it is necessary, so until then, good evening,” he said sharply before slamming the receiver back into the cradle.

Sighing wearily, he squeezed his eyes shut and kept them closed while he addressed whomever it was that lurked outside. “I know you are there, and I know why you’ve come.” He opened his eyes and fixed them on the door, but there was no movement, nothing to suggest anyone was there at all.

“We have her now and she is safe and sound. Trust me, no harm will come to her for the moment, but neither can we help her beyond this night, you know that as well as I,” he said softly with a hint of regret. “I will delay informing the others as long as possible, but if I do not advise them of the truth by morning, it will raise questions, and that is something neither of us can afford.”

“Come,” he smiled and beckoned with his hand. The figure stirred, appearing as a shadow in the doorway and the man said, “Sit with me,” he gestured to an empty chair, “and I will tell you what I know.”

 

[MrBurke]

Lutheran moved from the shadows begrudgingly, unimpressed with himself in being so easily detected, but to continue to hide once called out would be an insult to them both. There was much to be gained in listening, inaction was often the smartest course of action, and information truly was power. But a group such as this was not so easily spied upon, and the tall lycanthrope felt a wave of disconcertion and disappointment in himself for having underestimated the power broker in front of him yet again.

Men at this level, Lutheran had come to know, did not sell arms. They did not traffic in narcotics, or wage extortion wars. They could always be trusted to launder money, but they had no need of outside commodities save one: information. There was nothing more valuable to men in their common position. With so much money, so many underlings, so many moving parts it was impossible for things to run smoothly. After a certain point you learn to stop pushing forward and turn your attention inward, expansion happening as a matter of policy and even inevitability, a leader's expertise required nonstop in the managing of what he has already accumulated and protecting the philosphic high ground from which his operation initially sprang.

A small rash of hideous murders had cropped up in this city, and they had his particular clan's figurative fingerprints all over them. Every telltale element of werewolf involvement was present - each victim of some political significance or financial importance. The term 'political' is used here in the grand sense, beyond that of offices and public ribbon-cutting scenarios.

What was worse, every person that had fallen victim to this nasty attacks had been a direct barrier to Lutheran's interests. He stood to benefit from every one, each of these people having fallen under the protection of some sect or another. Untouchables, theoretically speaking, and the windfall that would surely follow this string of deaths would be assuredly be calamatous to his purposes.

The problem with vampires is thier hubris. Werewolves very much followed their primordial lineage, and tended to insert patience and attention where a frontal attack might be avoided. It was simple strategy to separate a calf from the herd and let it tire itself out, sprinting blind with panic until the muscles in its young legs ceased to follow orders and the pack might gain the greatest possible benefit with the smallest amount of expendature and effort.

Vampires were posessed of life unending and strength usurping that of even ten men, their powers growing with their age, and the natural assumption would be that their patience would be nigh infinite. However, the opposite was generally true. There is much time to fill in a Vampire's life, and experience teaches that one in the hand is indeed worth two in the bush. They prized outcome and resolution above all else, and their natural advantages in afterlife carried with them a sense of entitlement.

There is one law of the universe, and that is force. Whoever can take and keep the top of the heap will, and should; whatever their rule entails is immaterial compared to this one rule. Any notion of modesty or restraint is extremely contemporary and even now less than unanimously held. This is not to say that existence is somehow easier for those on top, merely that whomsoever feels confident enough to move into that position and is correct inevitably will, and there's much to be won from even occasional example-setting.

Vampires and Werewolves do not often clash, largely due to the fact that many of their ultimate interests are largely similar (anonymity, continuing supply of humans, etc.), and neither have much that interest the other. Coexistence is possible, and the two groups might exist in the same territory without infringing on another's pursuits for decades, but inescapably one or more of either side will grow ambitious and examples, as previously stated, will need to be set.

It is impossible to explain to a Vampire that any given Werewolf was not interested in absolutely everything he could grab, did not want the best things available, couldn't see the value in a Top Spot. Whether lying or simply wrong, that kind of perception lends itself to Beta positioning, and can be percieved as an in-road. The two sides are destined to conflict eternally, if surprisingly Werewolf clans responding to Vampire incursions the majority of the time.

Lutheran was not interested in ultimate domination. Do not misunderstand: many Werewolves are. Ambition is largely tied to the man who holds it above whatever he's supposed to want. Having said that, philosophical differences between the two sects of the underworld lifestyle tend to produce consistently similar results.

This new rash of killings was outside the norm.

Vampires could only interpret it as a power play for territory and control. Humans could only see it as an insufferable and inexcusable affront, regardless of motivation, to leave mutilated bodies in public summer heat. The Watchers, these organizations of human meddlers, tended to interpret freely and choose sides according to political necessity rather than pragmatic or moral standards. At least, that was Lutheran's opinion. His position with them had to be tenuous, and they had a way of making life very difficult, knowing more than they possibly could, inviting themselves into delicate situations to disasterous result. He did so dread coming to these people, but as somebody once said, "Politics makes for strange bedfellows." When a situation required a delicate touch he'd been known to commune with them, barter, organize, stipulate, demand. They had somehow engratiated themselves to the underworld and made themselves indispensable.

Lutheran was six foot six, with black hair that collected around the level of his adam's apple and shrouded his face. Tonight he wore it down, straight, gleaming in the low lighting, his black trench coat better suited to a businessman than a leader in the savage world of the untouchable dark. Grey dress slacks and a pale red button-down shirt tucked in, black silk tie, and shining Italian loafers. He looked like something between the Devil's Advocate and a stock broker, if the two may be distinguished from one another whatsoever.

No rings, no necklace, no visible tatoos or pentagrams. His eyes were a chocolate brown and deep with intimate knowledge of things mortal men never saw and wouldn't ever want to, alien in their point of view, too intelligent to be safe.

"Where do we stand?" His voice rolled out of his throat with practiced animalistic intonation, coming to stand ten feet away from the older greying man. He blinked slowly and stood tall, hands limp at his side, calm with dread and understood peril.