1 comments/  15123 views/  2 favorites

Blood Ch. 01

By: jarod187



The light moved over the club methodically, swaying to the beat of the music. The dancers couldn't quite be called that, nor simple bystanders. Everyone in the room undulated more than danced, gyrating back and forth to the dark beats that filled the hollow club. A Massive Attack song was heard in the background, low, the bass more audible than the beats. There were four bouncers outside, yet no security inside. A bar was to the right, but looked unused, several bottles of alcohol lying empty on the shelves.

Lincoln Carver noticed all these things upon his first three seconds through the door. A few years working homicide taught him to be observant, and a lifetime growing up on the streets before that had taught him the price of letting one's guard down. There were two direct exits he could see, including the one he had just walked through, as well as a door that seemed to lead upstairs and an open doorway that possibly led to the back of the establishment. The music was flowing seamlessly from song to song, but he couldn't see where the DJ, if any, was located. Overlooking the dance floor seemed to be a second story, one way mirror, which would be where the VIP room or management was located. He began to make his way towards the thick crowd.

Walking through the throng of dancers, making his way towards the back, Linc was assaulted several times by vagrant body parts rubbing against him, searching for a dance partner. When his stiff frame denied them, they went about their grindings alone, rubbing against each other or whatever they could find. Although several of the girls were pretty enough to catch his eye, none offered what he was looking for, and he continued through to the back. The far wall, appropriately decorated with flowers, was home to several diner style booths, the tables having been removed to offer better access to groping hands and public lewdity. Several were taken, most for the sake of libido, but the one farthest from the dance floor held only a single person.

She was young, hard to tell exactly how young in the current day and age, but definitely had lied her way in here. Her blonde hair, done up in pigtails, complimented the short plaid skirt that was hiked up almost around her hips. The school girl motif, while not entirely original, still brought in a crowd, and was an easy short cut to getting laid. More importantly, it seemed to portray the exact opposite of what dressing as such implied; innocence, naivety, and virginity. It was exactly the type of girl Linc was looking for.

He slid in next to her, trying his hardest to utilize the good looks his mother had assured him he had all his life. He looked a little cliché as well, the five o'clock shadow, the tailored leather jacket, but hopefully it would work as well for him as her outfit did for her.

If his manly swagger had any effect, she didn't let on, and, in fact, probably would have acted the exact same way if no one had sat down at all. He signed and pulled a picture out of his pocket.

"Do you know this woman?"

She looked at him, slightly interested now, and looked at the Polaroid. The face had burned itself into Lincoln's memory, and he took great care to show the picture to her in a way so that he, conversely, could see none of it. He could feel her presence, the woman in black, even though he couldn't see the picture. Mentally, he could imagine her image seeping through to the back of the Polaroid. Satisfied that she was done looking at it, he quickly stuffed the plastic back into a coat pocket.

"You a cop?"

"Do you know her?"

"No."

She did know her, of course, and asking was just a formality. The tough cop noir act died hard though.

"Your name is Alex. You've worked at the strip club on fourth and Balboa for six months, supposedly doing bar keeping under the table. Word is you do more than that. Word is, also, that this woman came in and spent roughly five thousand dollars on your...bar keeping... So, let's start over. You know this woman?"

Her eyes lost their focus at the mention of his knowing her name, and now she somewhat resembled an animal backed into a corner.

"I might remember her."

"What happened?"

"Girl came in, wanted to have do a private dance, real private. I told her we don't do that type of thing, but she kept insisting. Said she wanted me to give it to her. I said I wasn't a dancer. She said she'd heard different. I told her she'd heard wrong. Which is what I'm going to tell you."

"If you aren't selling, why doesn't the club put you on its payroll?"

"Because I don't want them to."

"Look, cheap prostitution is the last thing I'm looking for. I need to know..."

Her eyes changed from blank to cold slate in a split second, and he put his arm on her to stop her from leaving.

"You really are just a barkeep there?"

"Yeah. A friend got me the gig, said I could learn the ropes early, make some good money, maybe get myself through college. If my mom finds out, she'll freak out, he could lose his license for illegally employing a minor."

"How old are you?"

"You're not very well informed for a cop."

"Never mind, I don't care about you, or your friend, or your mother. I only care about this woman."

"Why, what did she do?"

"What did she say to you?"

"What if I don't tell you?"

Linc put a hand to his face, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose, and turned to look her in the eyes.

"Just...tell me. Please. It's important, trust me."

Alex paused, slightly.

"She said she just wanted to talk to someone, that she'd pay me five grand to go in back with her, said she was lonely. I said that was a lot of money, and that she must have the wrong idea. She said she'd give me anything I wanted. I thought about it, man, I thought about it, five grand, I don't think I've ever seen that much money. I kept thinking of my mom though, of my mom finding out, and I told her that I couldn't, that my mom would just die. And... she kind of smiled, and gave me the money, thanked me, and left. It's been three weeks, I haven't seen her since. I haven't touched the money neither, I keep thinking that if I spend it, she'll show up, it'll be a trick, she'll want something."

Lincoln sighed, deeply, and returned to rubbing his forehead.

"What did she do?" Alex asked.

He stood up, pulling her with him. She didn't resist.

"I don't know."

They began moving through the crowd.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

They reached the front door, and beyond, the cold air of the street. The bouncers were paid not to ask as many questions of the patrons on their way out as on their way in, and they did their job. They reached Linc's car, and Alex pulled away, roughly.

"Hold on, where are we going? What's going on?"

"I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

"Why? Am I not safe?"

"I don't know."

He moved to put an arm on her shoulder, and she shoved against his chest, hard.

"What the fuck do you know?"

Linc moved, slower this time, and rested an arm on her shoulder.

"I know that I'm here to help you. I know that something bad could happen to you if I don't, and until I know how I can stop it, you need to bear with me."

She met his eyes, saw the helplessness there, and stepped back.

"What kind of cop are you?"

Sighing, he held her gaze.

"I never said I was a cop."

"Then who are you?"

"My name's Lincoln...I...I'm here to help. I don't have a lot of answers, but I can promise you, I'm here to help."

Alex's gaze shifted, falling on something behind him, and she took his hand off her shoulder.

"Well, maybe she has some."

Lincoln turned as the woman in black approached. She was taller than he'd thought she would be, with a flowing black dress that gave the impression that she was gliding, not walking. She was a distance off, but was striding right towards them. Lincoln felt his spine turn to ice.

"Get in the car. Get in the car now."

She began to protest, and that's when she noticed the woman's eyes. As she passed through an area where the street lamps glow did not reach, she dropped out of view, but her eyes did not. They remained lit from the inside, refracting available light, reminding Alex of a wolf. Alex got in the car, Lincoln close on her heels.

"Hold on!" Linc screamed, shoving his foot down on the accelerator almost simultaneous with the key in the ignition. The car was parallel parked in between two others, but Linc made no sign that he planned on backing out using proper procedure. The car shot backwards and up, as it mauled it's rear bumper into the SUV parked behind them. Before the back tires had hit the ground, Linc had shifted it into drive and mashed his foot back down, meeting the floor mat. There was a screech as the SUV bumper ripped free, traveling with them a few feet as they lurched forward. The woman never moved, despite the fact that their car swerved nervously close to her in its escape. Linc noticed, crazily, that she seemed to be smiling. He also noticed, somewhat less crazily, that he liked her a lot better in his rearview mirror than in his headlights.

While neither admitted it, they both half expected to come upon the woman around the next street, or the next, though both were relieved when they did not. Lincoln made a point to check his rearview mirror three or four times a second, and, not fully trusting it, then checked each of the side mirrors to be sure. When he was sure nothing supernatural was following them, he pulled into a cheap motel and switched off the engine. Alex was staring out the window, looking surprisingly calm.

"Are you ok?"

She didn't answer.

"I didn't mean to scare you back there."

Her eyes seemed to stare at him in the reflection of the mirror, although it also created the effect that she was somehow staring through him as well.

"I...I don't know what that was...I've...I've been following her..."

Alex turned back, and said, "I do."

Linc froze, startled by the determination in her face, and then, when he realized she was waiting for him to respond, asked what she meant.

"She's the reaper. Come to weigh our sins. And I think we've been found guilty."

~~~~~~~~~

Lincoln thought the motel manager was a little too ok with his showing up this late to get a room with a young schoolgirl, but he supposed that he shouldn't complain. He got one room under the pretense that it would be safer to watch over her, but in reality he didn't have the money to cover two rooms. He had already had to haggle the guy out of leaving a security deposit, and he didn't think he would look kindly on any of the old credit cards he had in his wallet. In all honesty, he was surprised the man didn't ask him if he wanted to rent the room by the hour.

He helped Alex into the room, using his last few dollars to get her a cold root beer and some chips from a vending machine outside their door. She had forgone creepy clichés for silence again, and he was a little thankful for it. She sat down on the single bed, back to the wall, and drew her knees to her chest. Whatever attitude she'd had at the club was gone and had been replaced with...what? Linc had trouble figuring girls out under normal circumstances, he wasn't even going to try here. After checking the door to make sure it was locked (three times), he disappeared into the bathroom, preferring to make sure his Beretta handgun was loaded away from Alex's view.

It was his old service piece, older than most, but as reliable as anything you can get when you work for the city. He hadn't liked the gun much when he'd worked homicide, usually forgetting it in his desk, and now he was dismayed to find that his current situation didn't help him like the ugly metal thing any more. He always thought of his job to catch the people who used these things, and having one himself made him feel like a hypocrite. As he jacked a round into the chamber, he felt more than a little unease at how reassuring it felt to have the gun.

Alex was in the same position he had left her, and as far as he could tell, her eyes hadn't moved a fraction of an inch. He started to sit with her on the bed, then thought against it, and remained standing.

"I was a homicide detective, New York, working on a murder investigation that quickly turned into the hunt for a serial killer. Run away girls, always young, always...innocent. They were all from gentlemen's clubs, were always dancers. It was odd. They would all disappear for a few days, then reappear...different. Friends would comment on how they'd lost weight, how sick they looked, and more so, just...different. Several of the clubs offered...VIP benefits, if you will, and all of the girls who disappeared were known for turning down that type of action. When they returned, they not only changed their mind, but they only did those types of customers. The change in their behavior and lifestyle was a 360 from who they were before they disappeared. Girl who went to church, visited family on weekends, now they turned tricks. And then, after a while, they would be killed. Graphically."

Alex looked at him, moving only her eyes.

"Why are you here? How come you said you weren't a cop."

Lincoln sighed, looked down.

Finally, he said, "I found a girl, working at a club, who fit the profile: she had written poetry and helped charities on her time off, and suddenly, she was working more than any of the other girls, and twice as hard, if you know what I mean. I found her, talked to her, and she was...eerie. Almost like, even when you were talking to her, she wasn't really there. Like she was always imagining in her head some conversation other than the one you were having. I can't really explain it. I became fascinated with her, more than was necessary, started following her around, started watching her. I became certain that she was going to suffer the same fate as the others. My captain found out, and...put me on suspension. Using work hours for personal business. As far as he could see, my one-man crusade was bordering on obsession, and he took me off the case. I didn't listen, I went to see her...and...she died. I found her dead, she was strung up...I...they...kicked me off the force. They didn't know I took something from the crime scene though."

Alex stared at him, blankly, and didn't ask him to continue. He did anyway. It felt good to get it all out.

"The picture. The picture I showed you, it was in her hand. When she died. The killer left it. The thing is..."

Alex looked interested, but still remained silent.

"...the picture. It was inside the club you work at. She was inside your club when the picture was taken. And what's more...she took the picture herself. You can tell she's holding the camera. So...she was telling me...telling me where to go, where to find her, who her next victim was. I just needed...needed to find someone who was troubled...who was alone, but who was virtuous. Who was...innocent. That's what it's about, that's what it's always been about. Corrupting the pure."

He ran out of breath, forcing the last bit out like it left a foul taste in his mouth. In reality, he didn't want to scare her, he knew how this sounded, and he also knew that even though she had seen the woman for herself, she might not necessarily take his word for truth. She looked down and through the mattress, neither commenting on the story she had just heard nor seeming to think about anything but what the stains on the mattress could possibly be. He realized he was holding his breath, and let it go, trying to stifle the sound. 

As if on cue, she made a move, then seemed to think about it, and then stood up. Her eyes swung around and locked into his, and he fought the urge to gasp. The force with which she met his eyes was startling considering the near catatonic state she had been in a moment earlier. Standing, a full head below him, she lifted her shift off over her head. He blinked, trying not to look at her small breasts, barely concealed underneath a red bra. He took a step back, grasping for baseball figures, for movie trivia, anything to take his mind off how long it had been since he had made love to a woman. She took a step forward, and dropped down onto her knees, the pleated skirt hiking up, her hands moving over his belt. He was hard already, despite his mind's reluctance, and she rubbed the bulge it made in his pants while undoing his belt with her other hand. Linc groaned, and backed up again, falling backwards, scrambling away from her.

"This isn't right."

She crawled on top of him, running her hands up his chest, through his hair, one hand always massaging his cock through the material. Baseball, movie trivia, anything...

"This...this isn't right. Stop."

He shoved her away, a little harder than he meant to, and she finally looked a little surprised.

"I'm 18. You don't need to worry."

This, quite possibly, was the most ridiculous thing he could have heard, and he let out a short laugh. Something passed through Alex's eyes briefly, and then she was staring at the ground, gone again. He made a move towards her, hand outstretched, wanting to comfort her without it leading to another advance. He realized she was crying, soundlessly, the tears flowing freely down and off her chin. His hand found a place on her shoulder that felt good, and he squeezed it, hoping it was as reassuring as he meant it to be. Her eyes didn't even shift, but she brought her hand up and enclosed it around his, drawing strength from him, and that was something at least.

"I...don't want to be innocent," she spoke. "I'm tired of being good, of worrying what other people think about me. I want you...I want you to fuck me. I'm tired of being innocent."

Linc didn't say anything, but left his hand on her shoulder. He couldn't tell if she was still crying, but her shoulders were trembling slightly. He moved his free hand up, over her face, cupping it, wiping the tears away. Lifting her face closer to his, he smiled at her, brushing her hair away. She was beautiful, it was true, and somehow the tears made her look both older and younger than she had originally. Small, delicate features graced her countenance, and she had the type of look that would forever haunt her as making her look too young, inexperienced. Her eyes, brown flecked with honey like specks, closed under his scrutiny, and she began crying harder. He couldn't imagine what this woman had been through, but suddenly he felt closer to her. He remember how the bodies had looked in New York, remembered how long ago since he had walked in on his last girlfriend with another man, and then, walked out, remembered the deli down the street from the precinct where they always gave you the ham on rye too cold, remembered every single unfair thing that had graced his life, and he felt that this woman, this young girl, that she had felt it too.

He barely remembered doing it, but suddenly he was kissing the tears off her face, his hand running through her hair, pulling her closer to him. She backed up slightly, then suddenly was bringing her mouth up to meet his, her lips wet and her tongue darting into his mouth. There was a split second when he felt like he was taking advantage of her, and he pulled back, but she was there, she was telling him how much she wanted him, telling him how much she wanted this, and all objections were gone with the moment. Her mouth was mashed against his, her tongue shoved into his mouth, her hands roaming over his body. Laying a hand on the small of her back, he laid her down carefully on the floor. He began to rise, to shift position, but she grabbed his belt hard in her hand, pulling him down on top of her. Without knowing entirely how it had happened, she had wrapped her legs around him, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her sex barely covered by the thin material of her underwear. He could feel her hips grinding against him, against his own sex, and a moan caught in Alex's throat as she continued their kiss.


Blood Ch. 01



Linc's hands had a mind of their own, sliding down her chest, over her stomach, testing the elastic of her thong, then finally sliding around and cupping her ass, pulling her up harder into him. She broke the kiss, moaning as he pushed her into him. Meeting the thrust in turn, he could feel her ass moving back and forth in his hand, felt her softness against his rough skin, and he squeezed involuntarily, his erection growing even larger. He could feel her hand suddenly too, running down his chest, bypassing his belt and slipping underneath his jeans. Her small fingers burrowed their way into his pants until they had a firm grip on his dick, matching her hips movements with her nubile fingers. Linc sucked in a breath as she traced her fingers over the head of his cock, causing spasms of pleasure to shoot throughout his body. Biting her lip, Alex coaxed him over onto his back, sliding on top of him. Faster than he would have thought possible, she had his belt off, his pants undone, and was sucking him off passionately. Moaning, head back, he couldn't believe how good her small mouth felt. It was warm and soft, yet every once in a while she would stop sucking and just use her tongue, licking him all over. He could feel his orgasm building, and he reached down to stop her. She stopped and smiled, then took both his hands and wrapped them in her pigtails.

"It's ok."

She then began moving her lips up and down his cock so fast he thought he might pass out. He noticed that she had her free hand underneath her skirt and felt soft vibrations as she moaned loudly, her mouth still full. That was too much, and he felt himself begin to come. He pulled her pigtails, pulled her down harder onto his dick, shooting a huge load down the young girl's throat. He could feel her moan as he finally came, could feel her tongue still working on him while she swallowed his come, and that sent him over again, sending another shot down her throat.

She continued sucking on him until he was completely soft, slowly, almost as if she couldn't bear the thought of wasting any. He brought her up then, laying her across him, and she immediately fell asleep on top of him. He felt guilty, briefly, for not returning the favor to her, and had one single thought about how he would when he woke up, before exhaustion claimed him. There, on the floor of the motel room, they spent the first of what would become a lifetime together.



Blood Ch. 02



The woman was there, with Linc, her coal red eyes burning into him, her nails growing longer, claws now, and she was tearing at him, tearing into him, and it felt good, he could feel himself growing hard, he tried to scream, tried to protest, but he couldn't, maybe because his throat wouldn't work, his voice wouldn't come, but maybe because he didn't really want it to stop, he wanted his blood to flow, he wanted the sharp pain, he wanted the end...

~~~~~~~~~

Linc sat up quickly, throwing out an arm at the form above him, scrambling towards his jacket, towards his gun. Before he could reach it, his eyes adjusted, adjusted to the dim of the room, adjusted to Alex who was on the receiving end of his blow. He shook his head clear of any cobwebs and went over to her, helping her to her feet.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. I was...dreaming. Sorry."

She smiled thinly at him.

"It's ok. I remember what those are like."

Linc figured he could have died right then of shame and it would have been deserving. Whether it was because of shoving Alex as he woke or what he had been dreaming about beforehand, he didn't take the time to figure out. Alex held out her hand, a menagerie of wrapped confections tightly gripped in her fist.

"I thought you might be hungry."

The chocolate bars and mixed nuts looked delicious, his stomach letting out an appreciative roar, but he held off until she assured him she wasn't hungry anymore. All reservations aside, he proceeded to rip into and devour the snacks until he was almost licking the wrapper clean. It felt like he hadn't eaten in days, and, to his own dismay, he probably hadn't.

What was happening to him? He had been at the top of his class in the academy, he had gotten through his mandatory patrol time with record speed, he had passed his detective's exam on the first run, and now he could barely remember to eat. This case, this woman, it was tearing him apart. He was sitting in some seedy motel, eating candy bars, with a girl at least ten years his junior. That is if she was telling the truth about her age, which she probably was, but then again it wouldn't have surprised him to find out he had suddenly developed cancer or had a tax audit coming up, his luck had been running so downhill lately. His luck had always been bad, he'd had a rough life growing up in New York, worked his ass off to make it through college himself, to advance in his career, but he had never doubted himself, until now. It felt like stuffing had been left out of his brain for the last 28 years and God, recognizing his mistake, had crammed in double over night to make up for his mistake. A few days rest would do him good, as last night invariably had done him good, as ashamed as he was to admit it. Alex was an adult though, and he hadn't made her do anything she didn't want to do. Lincoln sighed deeply, and wished that rationale made him feel any less guilty.

Alex was smiling at him as he ate, and suddenly he had the impression that despite his head start on her birthday wise, he was a lot younger than she was. She had taken the pigtails out of her hair and taken a shower, now sitting opposite him wrapped snugly in a bathrobe she had snagged from somewhere. Her hair slicked back, makeup off, dressed down as she was, she somehow looked somber, like her age was just an outfit she put on along with the school girl skirt. He reached a hand out and brushed her face affectionately. She didn't pull back at all this time, instead turning her face slightly to rest it against his palm, her eyes closed, her smile still on her face. He didn't know this girl, couldn't pretend that the few odds and ends he had dug up before last night explained who she was, but he suddenly knew that he wanted to. He wanted to know what she did on Christmas mornings, wanted to know what her favorite movie was, wanted to know if she took bubble baths, wanted to know all the little details that seem to get lost when you love someone. Surprisingly, he didn't feel love for her, at least not in the sense he was used to. He didn't obsess over spending the rest of his life with her, didn't blanch at the thought of her with another man, didn't feel content just staring at her, but somehow he felt that would come with time. As for right now, he just felt glad to know her, glad to have found this person amongst all the droves, glad for the chance to get to know her. She was sweet, and more than that, she was kind, and maybe it was working Homicide, or maybe it was just living in New York his whole life, but somehow he had forgotten there were people like that. He looked forward to being reminded.

She noticed him staring, smiled lightly at him, reaching up to brush her hair away from her eyes. Linc took her hand, firmly but gently, and put it down at her side, instead reaching up and brushing her hair away with his own hand, cupping her lovely face in his palm. She smiled again, a little brighter this time, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face against his rough skin. Whether it was a sign of not, he leaned in, closer, smelling the fresh, clean scent of her skin, the lavender of her hair, and he brushed the hair off her face with his nose, stealing in for a kiss. He felt her mouth react to his immediately, her lips splitting, her tongue lightly licking the outside of his mouth, then hungrily stabbing inside as she pulled him in closer.

Alex lay back, pulling his boxers aside as she went, the robe coming undone and falling on either side of her small, pale body. With a fluid motion, she was on her back, legs wrapped around him, and he was inside her, sliding in effortlessly. The feeling was incredible and he could hear Alex's quick intake of breath that told him she felt the same way about it. They stayed that way for a moment, him enjoying the warmth she seemed to radiate from within, her basking in the close, filled feeling that came with having him inside her. Then, suddenly, she was bringing her hips up to meet him, the bed creaking every time her small ass sank further down into it, then bouncing her back up and further impaling her on his cock. Linc had a brief moment to think about how most people paid extra for beds that weren't this soft, but the thought left him as he felt her hands on his shoulders, her head thrown back, blonde hair spilling over the pillow, mouth open on the verge of a moan. Her hands found his hair, pushing him down into her small breasts, and he obliged her, kissing and licking the hard nipples, sucking them into his mouth. He was rewarded with her moan finally reaching her lips, quickly breaking into a half scream, hands clamping down into his hair as she slammed back up to meet his dick.

With a small sound, more of a coo then a grunt, he felt her begin to orgasm, felt her tightening around him, felt her body begin to shake, and he gave one final thrust, harder than the rest, bringing her over. White marks followed her nails as she scratched across his back, her mouth locked open in ecstasy, finally clamping down on his shoulder to stifle the sound. He felt himself close to finishing himself, and he willed himself away from climax, trying not to listen to how good she sounded screaming into his shoulder, body convulsing, small breasts shimmering with perspiration. Slowing beneath him, her orgasm passed with a few muffled sighs. She brought her mouth up.

"God damn, that felt good."

Linc looked down on her, probably grinning like an idiot, not even halfway close to caring.

"What, are you finished or something?"

She smiled back up at him, spinning him over onto his back in response, the robe flying behind her like a terry cloth cape as she moved on top of him. His smile disappeared as she slammed back, filling herself up with him, both of their remarks lost in a mutual moan that filled the room.

~~~~~~~~~

The wind tussled his hair, blasting it at odd angles, and normally it would have made Linc feel self conscious, but he didn't even move to smooth it down. He had the smug inner satisfaction of a man still surprised when he got laid, and the self-confidence seemed to radiate off him in waves.

As he strode across the parking lot towards the strip club, his cop instincts failed him. He first should have noticed that even though it was 8 in the morning, the club door was still open, the open sign still on. He then should have noticed that the parking lot was bare save for the nearest row, namely the spots saved for employees, for the dancers. His mind was still on Alex though, replaying the sounds she made, the looks, and all these signs were lost to him. As he walked into the club however, his keen senses did notice the bodies.

The attack must have happened right as they were closing, after they had ushered the last customer out; that was the only explanation as to why it lay untouched, the police uncalled. The normal raucous music of the place was off, but the lights were still dimmed, still flashing around in a disco fashion. While the women were dancing, the lights seemed to make them look almost exotic, not real, like a fantasy. The same effect applied when the women were dead, though instead of a harem of the future, the place looked like some kind of carnival house of horrors.

Linc had almost tripped over the bouncer's legs as he had stumbled into the club, now, ten feet further, he almost tripped again on the same bouncer's upper torso. One of the girls had made it to the door it would seem, maybe trying to rush past the attacker, but she hadn't made it farther than that. She lay half in, half out of the glass display case used to show off club themed sex toys and souvenirs, her once pretty face now lying still between a black vibrator and a coffee mug. The power of the blow, Linc noticed, had not only thrown her through the glass, but also through the metal supports holding up the case itself; part of it lay pushed crudely into her up to her shoulder blades. Whether it was the flashing lights or the nondescript carnage, he suddenly had the urge to vomit. Bile rising in his throat, he quickly turned back to the outside, staring at the small blue patch of sky he could still see through the door. With time, the feeling past, and when he felt he could trust his legs again, he walked further into the club.

Two more dancers were dead on stage, both tied to a large silver pole that thrust into the ceiling. Both were upright, and at half glance, the strobe lights almost made them look like they were just dancing with each other, involved in one lurid sex act or another. Linc had the brief inclination to throw a dollar down onto the stage, but disgusted with himself, thrust the thought out of his mind. Having a sense of humor could be good or bad, depending on the timing, but any cop will tell you that after about two months on the force, you stopped being able to joke around at parties. The human mind had to deal with carnage somehow, and humor at it's blackest made the rounds at every police station in existence. Understandably, any further attempt to tell a joke after one had worked homicide for more than a year usually led to looks equal parts horror and disgust.

Leaving the intertwined women, he approached the final victim. Lying across the floor, almost elegantly, he could see she was fully clothed, marking her as one of the waitresses. Her eyes were closed, thankfully, and despite the carnage around her, he could almost imagine she was just sleeping. Moving in closer, he put his hand on her neck. The ice that greeted his fingertips told him that she was dead, but he lingered for a minute, looking for a pulse anyway. When none came he looked her over. Besides being unnaturally pale, he couldn't see anything wrong with her. While the others had been incapacitated in unusually gruesome fashions, he couldn't see so much as a mark on the body. Superstitiously, he checked her neck, but no marks were there either. As he stood, he almost ran straight into the woman.

A few inches below his own eye line, her eyes glowed the hollow radiance he had seen earlier. At this close, he could make out that her two eyeteeth were, indeed, slightly sharper than the rest, although not as much as he would have expected. He backed up with a cry, tripping over the waitress, sprawling backwards onto his back. The woman strode forward, teeth still exposed in a small grin, hovering over him. The black skirt she was wearing seemed to flow over his torso as she stood over him, and he had to fight back the crazy assumption that as she left he would find that none of his lower body remained.

He felt his sanity creeping down towards his stomach somewhere, but below that, he felt exposed the millions of questions he had been asking himself lately. Who was this woman? What did she want? Why? His words stumbled out.

"What...the fuck..."

Not quite what he had in mind. She smiled with surprising warmth at his befuddlement.

"I made this for you."

Her voice sounded like she had been smoking for the past three decades, then, deciding that it wasn't quite deep enough, had developed chronic bronchitis to reach the right jazz singer quality. It left a weird echoing feeling in his head, and he shook it to clear out the cobwebs. She raised her arms, gesturing around the club.

"It's for you. I thought you'd be happy."

Linc looked around, at the blood, the carnage, then at this smiling woman.

"Yay?"

She grinned wider, putting her hands on her hips, like some kind of Goth cheerleader entering a routine.

"I thought you would like it."

"Have you ever thought of flowers? Maybe a new coffee pot? I mean, blood and carnage is this year's new Tickle Me Elmo, but a new coffee pot is the gift that keeps on giving."

He had the tendency to talk when he was nervous. He was very, very, nervous.

"Not that. Her. Angel."

He looked at the waitress that he had recently tripped over, and, indeed, saw her nametag read Angel. He wondered if it was a stage name or her real name, then somberly realized he probably would never know.

"She's perfect, don't you think?" she went on. "I thought you would like her. She's so much more...interesting...than the one you've got holed up in that hotel right now. Blonde is just so...plain."

Linc's blood turned to ice.

"But this one...this one's a keeper. You should have seen her fight when she died. If you massage the breast just right, slip one finger in the right spot, you can actually get them to orgasm right as they go. This one...she screamed, but you could tell she was feeling it. Most people are too afraid of letting go to really enjoy it. I felt her heartbeat stop in her chest, and then, a few seconds later, I felt her orgasm subside. And she enjoyed it, she wasn't afraid of death, she was really feeling it. She's a keeper. I hope you enjoy her."

Linc stared at her, as if this whole monologue had been in Swahili.

"I probably would have enjoyed her a little more," he started, "if she were breathing."

The woman clucked her tongue.

"Now now. Don't knock it 'til you try it."

She suddenly fell to her knees, her legs straddling him, her hands softly pressing onto his chest. He might have been turned on if he hadn't been lying on top of the body of a recently killed woman whose parents may or may not have named her Angel. With her body weight on top of him, he spread his arms behind him to stop from falling further backwards. His right hand briefly touched metal, and he grasped what he hoped was something heavy and swing able. Her hands rode up his chest, feeling under his shirt, running through his chest hair and up under his jaw line.

"I've been watching you for a long time, Lincoln. You're really quite interesting. A completely moral man, hindered only by your complete lack of will power and strong constitution. I think you'll lead a boring life left to your own devices. I'd really like to see what an eternity will turn you into."

"Um...thanks?"

"It's a good thing, don't worry. Would you like me to kill you now or later?"

"Never? Is never an option?"

She smiled again, that weirdly wolf like grin, and gracefully got to her feet and backed away from him.

"It's no fun if you don't beg for it. By the time I'm done with you, you'll wish I'd killed you today. You'll beg me to spill your blood over my hands, and be so gripped by madness that you'll laugh when I lap it up."

She backed away towards the door, still smiling, as if she hadn't just threatened him but rather promised him she'd take him out for martinis later. He supposed he should make a move, but for some reason his head and everything below it didn't really seem to be following orders. 

"You like her don't you?"

He wasn't sure if she was talking about Alex or the dead waitress, but either way, no seemed the appropriate answer.

"No."

"You lie. I can smell your feelings coming off you in waves."

"That must be a handy talent."

"You know I can kill her don't you?"

He looked down at the waitress, at the bodies all around him. Yes. Yes, he definitely knew that.

"You know there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop me."

Something in the way she said it, not just that she said it, sparked Linc's legs and arms to life, and with a speed that seemed almost superhuman, he swung the metal bar. It turned out to be chair leg, broken in the festivities, and he swung it hard enough to crack her head in two. It never reached her. He felt something soft, almost like a strong wind, and suddenly she was no longer in front of him, the bar had been knocked out of his hand, and he was being held up by the neck against a wall. He had barely seen her move. She bared her teeth at him, but the grin still hinted around the sides of her mouth. Not like that mattered; he let out a frightened shout that betrayed whatever little bravery he felt he had.

"I'll kill her, rape her, do whatever I want to her. And there's nothing you can do about it. If you tell her you've seen me, if you do anything to warn her, I'll kill her. Painfully. If you fail to do anything I say, I'll kill her. In fact, I might just kill her anyway. But your only chance to save her is to do what I say and hope I feel...charitable..."

He could see dark spots dancing around his vision, and he knew he was going to faint. It didn't strike him as an incredibly manly thing to do, so he forced himself away from the brink, concentrating on her words. She was going to kill Alex, he knew that, he had been a good cop at one point. Kill him too, as soon as she got bored.

"Fine," he choked. "What...do you want me to do?"

She smiled again, dropped him, gasping, to his knees. She dangled a silver key down next to his face. With dismay he noticed it was a key from their hotel, and with more dismay he noticed it was the room right next to theirs.

"Just keep her in the room. I'm sure you can think of...something...to occupy your time together. I'll be in touch."

"Oh, yeah. And my name's Kara," she called as she disappeared through the door. "It's nice to finally meet you."



Blood Ch. 03



Linc walked through the hotel room door, only pausing briefly on the threshold to compose himself. A brief scan of the small room showed Alex to be absent, and a similar look into the bathroom proved it empty as well. The lackluster walls seemed to emanate emptiness, seemed to give off a faint aura of abandonment that echoed the feelings banging around in Linc's heart, both feelings for himself and for Alex.

Maybe she had left in his absence, realized her only hope lay in a washed up cop and decided to try her luck out in the open. He didn't know if she stood more of a chance or less of one, but the thought of not having her in his life, the thought of no longer being responsible for her safety, filled him with both a sense of panic and regretful ease. He thought of the woman next door, a dark presence barely separated from him by tissue thin walls and paisley wallpaper. Could he run too? Follow Alex, at least in spirit, make a break for it? He didn't know if she would be able to find him, at least, he optimistically told himself he didn't know, but he knew for sure that as much as it filled his gut with acid to think about facing her again, a life not knowing which corner she could be around would be worse. His perceptions had radically changed in the last twenty-four hours, and he knew he couldn't go back to a life filled with murder-suicides and muggings now that he had seen the true outskirts of evil. The possibilities that had appeared, the numbers of nightmares kids see under their beds or poking out of closets, the fact that Linc didn't know which of those were imaginary any more, meant his life somewhat resembled a cave that had just recently had full halogen lighting installed.

"What are you doing?"

He jumped at the sound of Alex's voice and spun to face her in the motel doorway. She was back in her schoolgirl outfit, which really shouldn't have surprised him, since now it was essentially all she owned. Decoratively tucked under her arm was a bottle of cheap wine and what looked to be bags of sandwiches. She smiled brightly at him, and for some reason he felt a twinge of bitterness that she could still smile with all the pain he felt.

"I brought us some dinner. How did it go?"

"It...the club? They were...closed. I don't think there'd be any leads there anyway."

She frowned a bit as she unwrapped the sandwiches, but apparently decided to let it go.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I got a plain ham and cheese."

He picked up the bottle of wine and gave her a look. She gave it right back.

"The clerk was cute, and didn't ID. Advantages to having boobs."

He felt something clench inside of him, and told himself that it was that she was underage and drinking and not that she thought someone else on Earth was cute. The events of the day had put him in a sour mood, and despite his efforts to hold it back, he could feel it icily creeping into his voice as he spoke.

"I'm surprised. Wearing that, you look like you're 12."

Her head snapped up at him, more at his tone than his words, and he cast his eyes downward. The frown that creased her forehead eased slightly and a playful smile replaced it. She put the sandwiches down and moved over to him.

"12? Really..."

Her hands moved up his sides, under his jacket, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Do you really think I look 12?"

Tracing patterns, her soft hands darted to the small of his back and then returned to his front, teasing around the tops of his jeans. He tried to find words, but nothing particularly witty would come to mind.

"No...at least...15..."

Alex smiled again, and her hands moved up over his chest, lightly brushing his nipples. Tipping her lips up to him, she balanced herself on her tiptoes, hands tight on his shoulders underneath his jacket. Her voice was soft in his ear, more suggestion than actual sound.

"Are you sure? I could be young if you want, could be your little girl..."

Nails, tracing down his sides to his belt, slowly.

"...I could be innocent... be your little virgin..."

A tongue, softly licking his earlobe, making way for teeth to slowly nibble and caress.

"...I could call you mister..."

The closeness of her breasts, her full blouse rubbing against his own chest, hard nipples poking almost as if her bra wasn't there.

"...I could call you sir..."

A hand now, slipping down, gripping his rock hard penis through the thick material of his jeans, sending lightning bolts of electricity shooting along his body.

"...I could call you..."

A final whispered word, quieter than the rest, almost a vibration against his ear: "...daddy..."

A flash through his mind of the events of the day, and suddenly it was gone, and he was there, grabbing her and spinning her, pressing her up against the wall, face pushed into the same thin wallpaper he had been contemplating only minutes earlier.

"Is that what you want?" he whispered back. "You want to be daddy's little girl?"

Her eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted, and she gave a weak nod. Mind gone already, focusing on a sharper state of being, one that emanated wholly from her stomach, from her spine, from her nipples, from between her legs, like waves cascading off a shore. His hand was pressed hard into her neck, a cop move actually, and his other hand had both her wrists pinned to her back. The plaid skirt had caught slightly when he shoved her, hiked up just the slightest bit, and he could just see the hint of her cute ass poking out from underneath her captured hands. Still holding her from behind by her neck, he used his other hand to trace up her calf, slowly. Free, her own hands pushed against the wall, expressing everything her mouth wouldn't, scratching at the wallpaper like it held the secret to her desire beneath its pale hue. His hand reached her thigh, the soft flesh, and he traced a single finger upwards, to the warmth there, past it, sliding feather light between her ass cheeks, barely putting pressure as he lifted her skirt up a little higher.

"Say it," he breathed.

She remained quiet, mouth open in silent moan, as he gently glided his fingers back down towards her moistening lips. Without warning his hand shot lower, smacking the soft skin below with a sharp slap. She whimpered, eyes still closed, but there was something else there as well, something underneath the pain, an underlying wanting. This wasn't the tender love they had made just hours earlier. This was another side of the same coin, want mixed with need, lust spliced into love.

"Say it," he repeated.

"Oh...oh, god..."

It came down again, harder, her pale skin turning red already.

"Say...it..."

"Oh...oh daddy..."

His fingers shot up, not teasing her anymore, plunging past her panties and into her with no resistance at all. Her voice peaked, half moan, half shriek, and he began to slide his fingers in and out of her.

"Oh my god...daddy...daddy... oh god yes..."

He felt her shaking, felt her orgasm coming, and placed another two fingers in her, replacing his soft pace with a faster, harder one. Her ass rocked back to meet his fingers, her moans bouncing off the walls to reach his ears.

"Oh daddy oh daddy ohmygodohfuckdaddydaddydaddy..."

As her orgasm subsided, the shaking gone, he brought his hand back, this time delivering a loud slap directly onto her ass, and she moaned so loud that it could only have come from pain so sweet it's hotwired the brain into thinking it's pleasure.

He kept his hand there, his other still pressing her into the wall, and he leaned back into her, smelling her hair, and, deeper, smelling the musky desire coming off her in waves.

"I didn't say you could come..."

A flicker of a smile passed across her face, and then was gone.

"Sorry...sorry sir..."

He had the brief impression of the women next door, of Kara, pressed to the other side of the wall, listening to Alex's muffled moans. He imagined the woman who could kill him, who could have killed him earlier today, imagined her getting wet at the sounds coming from his room, being caused by him, and he was harder than he would have thought possible. He issued another slap, harder this time, leaving a stinging red hand print on Alex's ass. She screamed in retaliation, a sharp, hurt scream, more pain this time but still rife with pleasure. He had a feeling he could take his belt off and whip her without much complaining, but he thought he would save something for next time. His hand came down again, and she let out a shriek of pain.

"Please...daddy...stop..."

Despite her protests, her ass came up to meet his palm with every strike, eagerly greeting his hand with a loud slapping and a guttural moan of hurt and lust from Alex's mouth. He reached down and undid his belt, taking his time, making her wait. Separating it from his pants with a quick tug, he let the cool leather slither across her legs, draping over her small butt, letting it drag gently between her cheeks, then up, across her spine. He moved himself forward, letting the belt drag her skirt up enough that he could grind the hard bulge in his pants against her. She let out a sigh and moved herself back, positioning herself on her tiptoes so that he could feel the warmth and wetness of her even through the thick material of his pants. He moved himself closer so that his mouth was aligned with her ear.

"What do you want?"

She left her mouth open, her lips barely moving in an answer, and he let the belt drop back down to her soft skin.

"You want me to hit you again?"

She shook her head, barely moving herself, responding instead by grinding herself back into him.

"What do you want then?"

Her mouth moved, a sound escaping, little more than a whisper, lost in the passion emanating from inside her.

"What do you want?"

He let the belt fall back down a little further, separating them a little more. Her hand wrenched free and shot back, grabbing his pants by the belt loop and pulling him closer, pushing the bulge she found between her ass cheeks, to the hot center of her. 

She reached her head back and whispered directly into his ear, " I want you inside me."

Hands fumbling at his pants, she finally get them down and her own panties slid out of the way, letting him inside her. The first moment felt like an eternity, jamming himself inside her so hard she was forced back into the wall and lifted off her feet. She let out a moan that seemed less of a sound and more a vibration that passed along the thing wall. Linc was surprised the pictures didn't fall.

He started working himself in and out of her, head pressed between her shoulder blades, their gasps and moans matching each other in time with their hips. She shifted and moved a hand from the side of the wall to in front of her, groping her breasts through her thin shirt, using her hand to pinch her nipples as her chest was ground into the wall from his weight. Her other hand stole underneath her skirt, equally underneath her panties, and he felt her moan as she rubbed her clit in time with his fucking. 

It started in her shoulders, a warmth that pushed the cold out of her chest and into the air, warmth that brought with it a vibrating shudder that emanated from her very center. She felt him sliding in and out of her, felt him moving inside her, felt her own hands on her breasts, felt the force of him pushing her into the wall, felt his heavy breath pounding on her shoulder, and she came. She scrunched up her feet and pushed herself harder into the wall, palming it, pulling herself away from him and letting the orgasm grab her and do what it wanted.

The peak left her, and she was gasping, moaning, slouching herself down the wall, lost to herself, when she felt his hands grab her hips and begin to pull her ass back up to him. She felt his dick higher this time, outside her ass, and she pushed him away. He looked at her, slightly amused, and she smiled back.

"I don't want to."

He grinned back.

"I don't care what you want."

Her eyes faltered slightly, and he knew that she was telling the truth, they weren't playing anymore. He put a hand on her shoulder, brushing her hair aside, and smiled at her again.

"Hey, it's ok, we don't have to do it."

Her hands found his shoulders and she smiled, pushing herself back against the wall, spreading her legs for him, and her smile turned from sweet to devilish.

"I'm sorry sir. Let me make it up to you."

Linc plunged his hips forward, pushing into her again, and he immediately felt her legs wrap around him, pinning him to her. Teeth, his, found her neck, kissing and biting equally, ravenously devouring the taste of her flesh and the sweat that glimmered on her breasts and face. She moaned as his teeth nipped her neck and he felt her hands tearing into his back, twin fire dragons breathing on his shoulders and pushing his passion even further.

The wall was bucking, almost visibly bending as her hips bucked outwards from it to take his hard cock. She was almost horizontal now, her shoulders pressed against the wall, her hands moved back to hold her up, Linc's own hands holding her hips close to keep her from falling while she bounced on his dick. He felt his own passion building, felt the waves coming, and he could tell she felt it too.

"Please...sir...I still owe you..."

She pushed off him, leaving him no time to disagree, and dropped to her knees in front of him. He felt her hands jacking him off, felt her tongue licking the tip of him.

"Please...daddy...I want your cum all over my face...please..."

She bent down, looking up at him, licking her lips, and it pushed him over the edge. She gripped him hard with her hand, shooting his come all over her face, over her nose, her eyes, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue to catch as much as possible. 

"Oh god...daddy...."

He leaned against the wall, towering over her, as she licked his semen off her fingers, running her tongue around her mouth, her skirt spread open beneath her, her own cum and juices making the inside of her legs slick. She smiled up at him as she cleaned the last bits of come and he suddenly wanted her more than ever. He reached down, endowed with a new vitality, and gripped her legs in his hands. With one motion he pushed her knees up onto his shoulders and slid her up the wall, letting her pussy find it's home right in front of his face.

Alex grunted in surprise, but it was quickly replaced by a startled moan as his tongue investigated inside her pink lips, probing deep and then licking out towards her clit. Hands tangled in his hair, she pumped her hips at him, riding his face and letting her own juices flow over him, and he in turn lapped them up with a fervor only equal to the one she showed him. Her ass shoved forward again, hands clamping down as his lips clamped down on the small nub that centered her pleasure, and she came again, head pounding against the wall, thighs wrapped around his head, hair plastered to her forehead with perspiration.

~~~~~~~~~

Separated by mere plaster and wallpaper, Kara did listen, and she was wet. She heard the man command the young girl around, heard her moans and his perspiration, but more so heard a note of restraint, heard the pleasure they could be having in place of the pleasure they let themselves feel content with.

She lay on the bed, head cocked to hear through the wall, clad only in a small black tank top and a matching thong. If Linc had though she would look horrifying or less than human, he was wrong; nothing about her form insinuated anything lay beneath the surface save for her eyes, which seemed to catch the light with an inner fire at inopportune times. Her body was perfect, large breasts lying unnaturally still underneath the cool cotton fabric, flat stomach leading to long legs that promised all kinds of treasures hidden in between. The black fabric of the thong seemed carefully placed to just cover up anything indecent.

They were fucking against the other side of the wall, the dresser next to Kara's bed almost rocking from the commotion next door, and the woman smiled, sliding a hand down on top of her stomach and letting it stir restlessly there. She loved sex as much as any mortal man, or woman, but she sometimes went months or years at a time before giving into temptation and pleasuring herself, or, rarely, letting another please her. She could orgasm now for almost a day straight, sometimes without even touching herself, just listening to the painful mewling of men she had tortured, the pleading of women she had left broken and useless before her. The sound of two innocent people on the other side of the wall getting to know their inner selves, bringing their own nasty little impulses to light. Innocence corrupted could be the most amazing aphrodisiac around.

It wasn't that Kara had no respect for life, quite the opposite. With better than a century under her belt, she had more than a few lifetimes to ponder the existence of man. She had not come to think of them as cattle like many of her movie kind had, or think of them simply as food, but rather she thought of them as individual people, individual lives that all intertwined at one specific moment. Decades and decades of time and experience could come together into one brilliant instance, one bright time, where it was snuffed out, where it was made to beg, and where it was showed no mercy. Kara didn't lack respect for life, she just enjoyed destroying something that she respected so much.

She heard a muffled groan signifying Lincoln had reached his finish, and she wondered if he had come inside her or on her. The thought of not knowing made her even wetter, and let a hand steal up over her ribs to lift her tank top up, exposing her breasts to the air, letting her fingers play over them and massage them. The electricity of sensitivity traveled from her nipples back down into her stomach, somewhere below her stomach, and she let out a soft sigh.

There was another reverberation through the wall, and suddenly she could hear the young girl crying out on the other side, could feel her ecstasy vibrating through, and she pressed a free hand up to the wall, imagining how the girl's back would feel under her palm, imagined how her sweat would taste, her blood. Kara's other hand stole underneath her thong, and she began to time her moans exactly to those coming through the other side of the wall. She imagined Lincoln's dick swelling inside her, imagined Alex's tongue licking between her pink lips. She came, and her last thought before she was pushed over was how much she would enjoy destroying these two.



Blood Ch. 04



The car idled around him as he squinted into the harsh daylight, hands lingering over the keys, not entirely sure what he was waiting for.

Lincoln should have felt calm during the day, felt safe, but for some reason, it had the opposite effect. Whenever he was baking under the sun's rays, he could almost feel the hours falling away, feel night coming. He felt like a kid trying to hide under the covers from monsters, only to discover the blankets didn't cover his feet. The light seemed artificial now, and although women walking past him were wearing board shorts or bikinis as was customary with the hot weather, he wore his leather jacket everywhere. He didn't just feel cold, he felt like eventually the ice at his core would spread out along his feet, to the ground, and freeze the Earth in its tracks.

The shop lay open across from him, doors propped to offer cheap air conditioning, and he noticed that they would be closing in a few minutes. He had been sitting outside for near an hour, and he wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but it hadn't come yet. He had been to five shops similar to this one, all over Los Angeles county, and none had been able to help him. The earthy wares lining the shelves had seemed authentic, the knowing attitudes of the clerks seemed genuine, but upon further inspection, he decided that witch craft and the occult were a fad undertaken by teens rebelling against their parents. Linc was shocked to find that when he hinted, subtly, that he may be dealing with a real vampire, most of them went on for hours with their own stories of the undead. Like, for instance, this one time, at this club, like, this guy with black hair, and, like, a cape, totally made out with me, and, like, said he needed my blood, and, like... Lincoln had found that doing a stockpile of all the professions he had wished he'd taken instead of being a cop was a good way of drowning out the rest of these inevitable conversations.

He finally slid the keys into his pocket and exited the car, blinking into the setting sun as he crossed the street. Cop instincts kicked in and he absently watched a late model Crown Vic parked across from him. He noted in his head that it had been sitting there, idling, for as long as he had, and he'd have to deal with it on his way out.

Letting his hand slide idly along the shelves as he entered, Lincoln surveyed the shop. It was smaller than most but was also crowded with more crap. A Dracula metal lunch box slid under his fingertips and he snatched them back, worried about what, he wasn't sure, but positive he didn't want to be seen even looking at the gaudy piece of junk.

"Can I help you?"

A large man, tall, not fat, dressed in black, waited behind the sales counter recessed into the far wall. Linc sized him up, and noticed that he had several stone runes hanging from his neck. Promising.

"Probably not. But it's worth a shot."

The man's eyebrow shot up.

"What're you looking for?"

Linc sighed. He'd found that beating around the bush didn't help anybody, least of all himself.

"My friend and I are being stalked by a psychotic vampire woman, and I'd like some help. Please."

The man stared at him blankly, as if the validity of his statement could be read in fine print right in between Linc's eyebrows. On the plus side, he hadn't laughed or told him about some guy at a party yet, so that...

"Come with me."

Spoke too soon. The man stood quickly, opened up the counter and disappeared into the back of the store. The authority with which he rose surprised Lincoln, and he felt compelled to follow.

The back of the store was dark, musty, and looked like a bad horror movie in and of itself. Ancient books lined the walls, celtic runes peppered the walls, and Linc could smell incense burning. The man led on to a large oak desk, and after a brief moment surveying his stocks, brought out a velvet bag. He held it with the reverence that suggested that inside, quite possibly, were either a large assortment of his most prized chocolate salted nuts or a holy bible blessed by Jesus himself. Lincoln stifled a laugh, and took the bag. As overdramatically as possible, the man stood, hands steepled, waiting eagerly for his customer to open and discover the treasures within.

The tie came off easily, a slipknot, and the contents of the bag slid out into Linc's hands. It was heavy, metal, and smelled slightly of wood polish. Rectangular in nature, it certainly looked mystical. Linc raised his eyes quizzically to the man, who smiled a toothy grin and took the object in his own hands.

"It's a DaySpire. Very rare. I was able to come into possession of one through a friend who had some vampire problems of his own. Very powerful."

He handed the object reluctantly back to Linc, who turned it over in his hands.

"How does it work?"

The man's eyes faltered slightly, but his hands moved faster than ever, as if to grasp answers from the air.

"They were supposedly crafted centuries ago, by druids who faced vampires in their homeland. Not like the vampires we see today, but more natural, more powerful..."

"It says on the bottom it was made in Taiwan."

The man grabbed it back and looked at the inscription.

"That's not what that says."

Linc pointed for clarification.

"Sure it is. The last half is worn, but that's what it says."

"That doesn't say Taiwan. It looks more like Ta...Tay...Taiyan. That's a very mystical coven in England."

"Covens have to worry about labor laws when creating their DaySpires to fight the undead huh? Has the government nothing better to do than tax those fighting the good fight?"

The man stammered, staring at the piece in his hands. Sad as it was, Linc realized that the man himself believed the piece to be authentic. He wondered how much he had paid to acquire it.

"Thanks for your help, but I don't see anything I want here."

He left the stammering clerk to his own devices, and stepped out into the main area of the shop. What a waste of time.

"Vampires huh?"

He turned to the voice, and found himself confronted with a young woman, about Alex's age. He wondered if she'd always been in the shop, or had come in after they had gone in the back. She was Alex's height, Alex's size, but there the similarities stopped. Instead of straight blonde hair, the girl had shortly cropped black hair, obviously dyed, and streaked with pink. Her outfit was similar to what all gothic teenagers wore, pleated skirt, mesh, safety pins. She looked like she would be equally comfortable at a rave or in a graveyard. After sizing her up, he realized he'd been staring.

"Uh, yeah," he stammered.

"Like, Bela Lugosi or Stuart Townsend?"

"Neither."
"Wear lots of black?"

"This is LA."

"Turn into a bat?"

"Not that I noticed."

"Mist?"

"Nope."

She looked at him curiously.

"How do you know he's a vampire?"

He looked back at her, equally curious.

"She's killed a lot of people."

"This is LA," she retorted.

He smirked.

"Well, she seems to be really fast, her eyes glow in the dark, she's strong, she..."

The girl put her hand out, resting it on his arm, and stopped him. Her face had frozen.

"You're for real," she breathed.

His eyes narrowed.

"Are you?"

"You have no idea how many posers there are," she spurted. "How many dregs out there pretending to be witches, or werewolves, pretending to understand, but never understanding, not really. You really know, you really understand."

It was his turn to put his hand on her, and she broke off, out of breath, meeting his eyes fiercely. 

"My name is Raeven," she stammered.

"Lincoln," he said, hand outstretched.

She shook it, then giggled, as if surprised he was solid.

"We need to talk."

"You have no idea."

"We can't here."

He looked out the window, at the setting sun, and realized if darkness reached him here, he would have no leads left that Kara didn't know about. She pulled him close, and he felt her press something small into his hand. Over his shoulder, he saw the clerk come out of the back room, staring at them suspiciously.

"Don't show anyone this," she hissed. "But I'm free tonight at 8."

"Nights aren't really that good for me."

She backed away from him, back towards the counter.

"Don't tell anyone about me. But don't be afraid to use that, either."



**********************

Detectives Mitchell and Hobson watched as Lincoln exited the store, and started the car. He had been leading them around the city all day, and they were debating moving in now and blowing their cover, or continuing to follow him in the hopes that something interesting would happen. Neither worked out, since Lincoln walked right up and knocked on their window.

"Shit," Mitchell said, and rolled the window down.

Lincoln eyed the inside of the car, and nodded at Mitchell.

"Mitch. Who's the new guy?"

Mitchell sighed, tiredly rubbed his eyes, and jerked his head towards Hobson.

"Det. John Hobson, LAPD. He's helping out with my case, showing me the sights here in LA."

Linc nodded,

"Why are you following me, Mitch?"

Dobson looked at Mitchell, who looked at the floor mat of the car, which just sat there.

"The strip club on 8th."

"Jesus Christ," Hobson breathed, and glared out the window.

Lincoln ignored him.

"Stay out of this Mitch."

With that, he turned, and walked back to his car.

************************

Lincoln got into his car, breathed hard, and started the engine. They didn't arrest him. Which means they knew he didn't kill those strippers on 8th. He'd been going over it in his head, and he'd touched a dozen smooth surfaces in the place, so they had to have known he was there. His finger prints were probably in the girls' blood for god's sake. So that meant the club must have security footage. Which meant they knew Kara had done it. He wasn't sure if vampires showed up on video, but he did know they had seen something, and they thought he was the key. They must have the hotel staked out.

He brought out the card Raeven had given him, glossy, with her number written in plain white type across the face. It announced her job at the store he had just walked out of, but he had a feeling that she did some freelance work of a more authentic nature.

Lincoln brought his eyes up again, eyeing the Crown Vic in his rear view mirror. They'd seen him go into a dozen stores today probably, they didn't know about Raeven. He couldn't involve her now that the cops were involved. Vampires could kill you, sure, but Lincoln could keep Raeven hidden from Kara. The daytime was their sanctuary, a free zone. But with the cops, there was no safe house, no safe place to talk. They could arrest her on aiding and abetting, and even if the charge didn't hold, the link could bring Raeven to Kara's attention.

Thinking about it, but only briefly, he crumpled the card up and threw it in the back of the car. Sourly, he started the car. Back to square one.

***********************

It was night before he made it back to the motel. As Lincoln pulled in, the cell phone rang. The ring tone was one of those horrible midi reproductions of a popular hip hop song, and it bore little to no resemblance to the original song. Which version was better was arguable. The odd thing wasn't the ring tone though, it was the simple fact that the cell phone wasn't his. He withdrew it from its hiding place, the car glove box, and flipped it open. It was nice, an expensive model, and picked up immediately when he opened it. He pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

He'd known it was Kara, long before he'd recognized the noise as a cell phone ring, but her voice still caused him to jump noticeably.

"Hello Lincoln."

He paused, trying to establish that he was still in control, even at this stage of the game.

"Who is it?"

Brilliant. Fucking brilliant.

"You know who it is. And I know you've been a good boy Lincoln, a very good boy. You didn't tell sweet little Alex about me, you didn't tell her how I'm going to be killing her soon. Are you finally admitting you've lost, or do you still think you can save her?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? You're either very brave, or very, very stupid."

"Nice line. I've seen that movie too."

She ignored him.

"Not knowing whether you've given up doesn't sound very brave, now does it?"

Linc eyed the hotel, saw no noticeable signs of life within either his room or hers. He wondered, with a lot less horror than he should have, whether Alex was already dead.

"Fuck you, lady. Does that sound braver?"

She chuckled.

"You're forgetting our game. That's not how you talk to your master. Or should I remind you: break down this wall, and show Alex what her intestines look like?"

He was silent.

"Lincoln? Should I?"

God dammit.

"No."

"Good boy. Now are you brave?"

"What?"

"I said, are you brave."

"...no."

"Finally, you understand our relationship. It took the others so much longer. You're going to be my favorite, I can tell. Now go inside and rape Alex."

He didn't speak, just lay his head against the steering wheel.

"In the ass. She probably wouldn't like that, would she?"

He could drive right through the flimsy motel wall. Maybe that would kill the bitch.

"Lincoln," she cooed. "Would she like that?"

He sighed again, lifted his head.

"No. No, she wouldn't."

Kara was laughing, softly, yet it still sounded like razors scraping across his ribcage would sound.

"Good. If you tell her about me, I will rip off one of her fingers for every word you use."

She hung up.

Lincoln opened his door slightly and was met with an irritating beep as the car told him the door was ajar. The shrill beeps pierced his brain, rattled around in the back of his head, and felt like they finally lay at rest stabbing behind his eyes. She had said others. She had said it had taken the "others so much longer". Which means that she had done this before, probably to countless innocents. Which means they hadn't survived. Which means he probably wouldn't.

*********************************

Alex was watching tv when he came into the room. She had her terry cloth robe on, and he wondered how long it would be before she asked him to go find her some more clothes. Or just seduced some young clothing store clerk into giving her some, he thought wryly.

It's not her fault. It's your fault. She didn't do anything but get caught up in this. She isn't to blame that you can't fix it, that the cops are on you, that every day the past week has been nothing but pointless leads, one after another, and it's not her fault you're a washed out cop, washed out human being, you piece of shit, he repeated over and over in his head. He sat down on the bed.

Alex came closer, to cuddle he thought, but instead brought her hand down hard on his head. He recoiled, confused, and caught the second blow across the neck. Suddenly, she was on him, slapping, crying, and he was catching her wrists, telling her to stop.

"You son of a bitch," she cried, "you knew, you knew they were dead, they were my friends, you knew and you didn't say anything. I had to find out like this..."

The tv on, turned to the news, covering the strip club murders. Shit.

"Look," he started, but then she was hitting him again, slapping his face, scratching, crying, telling him how much she had trusted him, over and over.

"You can trust me," he said, trying to hold her back, failing.

"You son of a bitch," she slurred through tears.

"You can trust me."

"Fuck you."

"You can trust me. Stop."

"You knew, you motherfucker."

"God dammit!" he cried out suddenly, pushing her back onto the floor, harder than he should have. She fell back, still crying, but shocked at his anger.

"I trusted you," she accused, looking into his eyes, not a vengeful woman now, but a little girl with a skinned knee.

It didn't abate his anger. It made it worse. She did trust him, and how fair was that? Who was he, why the fuck should he have to answer for all this shit, not just for himself, but for her too. It wasn't his responsibility, it wasn't his job, and above all, it wasn't fair.

Alex took his hand, slow, bringing it to her face, letting her feel his tears, and that infuriated him more. He jerked it away, and she grabbed his other one, seeking sustenance from him. He didn't pull away this time, but thrust his hand closer, next to her mouth, pushing his thumb between her lips. Fine. She wanted his protection, to make him responsible for her? Than he would do what he had to do to ensure she survived.

She pushed against him at first, but he insisted, shoving his thumb into her mouth, using his free hand to undo his belt. She sighed as he let his dick spring free and moved her mouth over to him, lust springing up into her eyes. Wet lips engulfed him, her small fingers working over his balls, and he was able to tie both his free hands into her hair. As he guided her head gently, she moaned, her hands beneath the robe, working at herself. Not good enough, he thought, and shoved her down on his cock even harder.

Alex gagged, his cock too big for her throat, and looked up at him.

"Not so rough, ok?"

Linc responded by pulling her mouth back over his hardness, choking her on it, and she forced herself off, spit running down over her chin.

"Hey..." she started.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair and wrenching her up to her feet, he looked her in the eye.

"You'll do whatever Daddy wants, you little bitch," he growled, "and I don't care if you beg and plead, you're getting what you deserve."

Please, please, please let her play along. Kara was listening, and if they didn't put on a show, Linc didn't know what the bitch would do. He took her robe and tore it off her, catching it for a second painfully around her fingers as he tossed it to the floor. She screamed in surprise as he shoved her down on the bed, using her hair to guide her mouth back around to his cock. On all fours she started to suck him off, passionately now, deepthroating his dick all the way to the base, choking on it, not caring, letting her spit and his precum spill out over her lips and coat her face. Linc reached down and delivered a smack to her small ass, as hard as he could, and was happy to hear her shriek around his cock in reaction.

"Take it all, you little fucking slut."

She gobbled hungrily at him, not able to get enough, until finally he pulled her off and flipped her around. She spun around, his hands still moving her but Alex definitely going along with it. She kneeled on the edge of the bed, and presented her ass to him, wiggling it, begging him to enter her.

"Please, no Daddy. Please don't."

She could say that all she wanted to, but her body was saying yes in more ways than one. He could smell how wet she had gotten, even if he couldn't see her juices coming out of her pussy and practically flooding down her leg onto the bed.

"Please, Daddy, please, it'll hurt, I don't want to."

"Shut up, you little slut."

He shoved inside her with one full thrust, and he could feel his orgasm coming as she thrashed around on his cock. She was fucking back, hard, the twin globes of her ass a blur as her pussy clenched down and him and wouldn't let go. Orgasm getting closer, Linc finally withdrew, much to Alex's dismay. He placed his well lubed cock next to her ass hole, slowly. Her head shot back, eyes pleading.

"Lincoln..."

She wasn't playing. There was real fear in her eyes. He could feel the tight ring of her ass hole, and he left his cock hovering at the edge.

"...please..." she whispered, eyes meeting his.

He met her eyes, and his anger was gone, his righteousness disappeared, and he was staring at her again, the girl he wondered if he could ever love, watched her beg him not to take her ass. Their eyes met, and he wished he could comfort her, could tell her it would be ok, and take her away from here. He wished that if that would happen, they would make it to the car alive.




Blood Ch. 04



She breathed, and lowered her head.

"Daddy...whatever makes you happy...I just want to be a good little girl...I'll do whatever makes you happy..."

Her permission didn't make it any easier, but whether it was the smell of her pussy, the heat of her ass cheeks around his cock, or her sultry voice, he found he was even harder than before. God dammit.

He drove into her ass, hard, fast, and she screamed. Not a play scream, like before, but real pain as her ass stretched to take in the significant circumference of his cock. He drove into her again, and again, and watched as she pulled a pillow up to her face and screamed into it. Her body shook, and he could tell she was crying into the pillow.

God dammit.

He came.

************************

Kara's hand traced the light colored wall paper, and she listened to the girl crying on the other side. They had stopped fucking minutes ago, and immediately they had fallen silent, except for the occasional murmur of what Kara could only assume was Alex sobbing. Linc had done well, had done what she'd asked, and she was glad. But as usual, a problem came with this newfound gift; she would have to find something even worse for him to do if she was going to break him soon. She lay down and closed her eyes, awash with the possibilities.

***********************

Lincoln held her, silent, in his arms. She had stopped crying and was curled up against him, seeking warmth, protection. She smiled up at him, meeting his eyes, and reaching up to kiss him passionately. She began to speak, and he kissed her, silencing her. When their lips parted, he looked into her eyes, and saw that she had enjoyed it, that it had hurt, but that she was ok, that he hadn't done anything permanent. He wished it helped the guilt he felt clouding inside his chest to dissipate, but it didn't take back what he had done. Didn't take back that even if she hadn't enjoyed it, any of it, if she had really begged him to stop, he still would have fucked her, still would have raped her and hurt her to save her life. The fact that she enjoyed it was a testament to her giving nature towards him, and not towards anything Lincoln had done. Alex was a precious girl, a lovely, lovely girl, and he wondered what he would have to do to her in order to keep her alive. He wondered if somehow he did manage to keep her alive, what state of mind she would even be living in.

************************