Flesh & Blood (13 page)

Then the knuckles of the girl kneeling behind her were forced up between her taut pubic lips and Leah let out a gurgling cry of dark, terrible pleasure as she realized the entire hand had been squeezed into her pussy. She came with a helpless cry of wild passion, rocking and shuddering against them as the hand pushed deeper and deeper into the soft folds of her sex, fingers twisting like a live creature within her.

Her orgasm seemed unending as she felt the fingers curl in against the palm to form a fist. The fist pushed deeper, a living ball in her lower belly, twisting slowly as hands clutched her legs, holding them spread wide.

‘P-please… please…’ she gasped.

One of the girls sprawled on top of the cage, laying back, legs spread, drawing Leah’s mouth against her wet sex as the fist began to pump slowly up and down in her aching belly. She grunted and moaned, her lower body pulled back as the fist withdrew, her thighs grinding against the edge of the cage as it pushed forward again.

She licked dazedly at the girl’s wet sex, the scent of her almost narcotic, the taste of her even more so. She felt a fuzzy heat spreading on her tongue, filling her mouth and down her throat as the girl’s juices flowed. She groaned as the fist moved more powerfully, her lower body grinding to and fro.

Warm lips agitated her clitoris and another orgasm rolled over her as she eased herself back on the balled fist inside her, the experience awful yet exquisite. She cried out with each deep impalement, but the intense discomfort did nothing to lessen the terrible, all consuming need, her breathing harsh and ragged. Another shattering orgasm tore through her mind and body and she screamed, heedless of who might hear, uncaring for anything but the ecstasy racing through her core.

Chapter Seven

Leah woke slowly, exhausted, her body aching in every joint, every muscle. She sat up slowly, holding a hand to her forehead, her hair spilling down around her shoulders. She opened her eyes, blinking slowly, her mind confused. She had no idea where she was, and for long moments she had no idea why she was wherever it was. Then it all fell into place and she gasped, jerking her head up and staring about her.

She was in her car, parked at a curbside. Morales’ house was just ahead, brooding darkly in the shadows. She was nude, and there was no sign of the clothes she’d worn earlier.

She raised her hands then at a foreign sensation, staring at them. There were gold bands circling her wrists, and she saw looking down, two more circling her ankles. She ran her fingers around them but found no breaks, no clasps, no way of removing them. They were, she thought chillingly, the same as those the bald girls had worn. Was she to be made into one of them?

Her hands scrabbled frantically at the ignition and the motor turned over smoothly. She threw the car into gear and heard the tires squeal as she pulled out into the road, narrowly missing a car parked in front of her.

It was almost four in the morning by the clock on the dashboard, and the roads were empty as she raced through them, her mind reeling, fear clawing at her insides. What was Morales? He couldn’t be a vampire; there was no such thing!

She began to slow at the lack of pursuit, feeling a growing sense of awareness at her nakedness, and how vulnerable it made her. She glanced hopelessly over her shoulder at the rear seat, knowing there was nothing there with which to temporarily clothe herself, knowing also that the trunk contained a toolbox and spare tire, and nothing more.

She kept to the quieter roads as much as possible as she returned to her apartment, then parked at the rear entrance, near the laundry, not wanting to make her way naked through the brightly lit garage.

There were no lights on in the nearby buildings, and few on in her own. Her heart was pounding and her ears were alive to every little sound as she slipped the key out of the ignition and held up the one to the building. She searched for but found no alternatives, so she opened the car door and stepped out, naked, into the night air.

Anxiety made her tummy churn, but there was more, a dark, crackling sense of heat rose around her at being outside, out in public, naked to the world. Fear of discovery made her tremble as she headed for the rear door, but the quick sprint she had planned turned into a slow, unhurried walk as a dark part of her gloried in her shameless nakedness, exulted in the sense of freedom. She felt almost as though she was in a dream, a part of her screaming at herself to run, but her legs refusing to comply.

Eventually the key turned easily and the door pulled open. She slipped inside, her feet slapping lightly on the floor tiles as bright fluorescent lights stripped away any sense of comfort the darkness had leant her. She drew a deep breath then, heart hammering, pulse racing, anxiety setting butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she crept along the hall to the elevators, her disquiet increasing at the thought of being discovered before she could reach the sanctuary of her apartment. She held her finger to the button and watched it glow, listened, barely able to hear over her pounding heart as the machinery engaged and the elevator dropped from above.

She stood still, waiting as the doors opened, then thankfully stepped in, turning and pressing the button for her floor. The elevator began to rise smoothly, and she stared as each floor number lit up in sequence, hardly able to breathe, and as each number lit and then went out as she ascended she felt a desperate sense of relief that the elevator hadn’t stopped for someone to alight, only for that relief to be instantly replaced by fears that the next floor might be the one when it did.

Eventually she breathed a deep sigh of relief as she reached her floor, and a soft chime sounded as the doors opened and she padded out along the carpeted hall to her door. Unable to believe her good fortune in making it home safely she unlocked it and slipped gratefully inside.

Leah trembled as she leaned back against her closed door, and raised her hands again, staring in disbelief at the bands around her wrists.

She moved away from the door, rubbing her arms. She felt a sense of barely suppressed energy, felt hyperactive as she began to pace back and forth in front of her large glass windows. Her thoughts were in turmoil as she tried to explain away what she had seen, and what had happened to her. Morales was a cult leader of some kind, the others his followers. That much was surely clear and everything could be explained that way. And those two creeps in the nightclub were obviously, although it was a massive coincidence, part of the cult, wearing fake teeth and playing at being vampires.

Yet she could not explain away the uncontrollable, heightened lust she’d felt almost constantly since first meeting Morales, and could not explain the fiery heat she’d felt burning through her flesh at the touch of the girls’ tongues. She had to squeeze her thighs together as she recalled the moment one of them thrust her tongue into her quim for the first time.

She woke, eyes snapping open and staring at the wall opposite the foot of her bed. She lay on her side, curled up in a fetal position, one hand between her legs, her other cupping a breast. She slowly unfurled, rolling onto her back, letting the hand clamped between her thighs slide away, flopping lifelessly onto the mattress beside her as she stared up at the ceiling.

None of it was possible. None of it.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, and she rolled out of bed. She showered, then dressed in a tight pale blue blouse, a short black leather skirt, and black leather boots with four-inch heels. It was hardly the proper attire for a police officer about to interview potential witnesses, but something inexplicable influenced her to make the choice, and made her slip into her favorite leather coat, the one she normally only ever wore for nights out.

Outside she got into her car, started the engine and pulled away from her apartment block. She tried to ignore the memories of what had happened to her in recent days. Morales. Somehow he had done things to her mind, to her body. But how could she fight him, much less his kinky entourage?

She paused as she spotted a church ahead, and turned in. She got out of her car but hesitated briefly, absurdly wondering if she were cursed, and if so whether she would be able to enter the sacred place at all. But she felt nothing as she passed through the large arched doorway, and a sense of relief filled her. For some reason she felt the need to make her way up the aisle, and halted at the small stone basin and gazed at the water within. Holy water. By all the legends and myths, holy water was a weapon to be used against… against vampires.

But what was this lunacy? Why was she even thinking this way?

She stared down at the water, and then tentatively put a hand out, fingers extended to brush the cool surface. She drew them back and made the sign of the cross over her chest, felt self-conscious as she stumbled awkwardly through a quick prayer, then turned and hurried out.

She had previously printed off a list of local shops supplying gothic clothing, accessories, books, comics and memorabilia, so she began to visit them one by one, asking the proprietors or staff for information about the vampire legend and whether they knew of any customers who may have thought such things really existed, showing pictures of the missing girls to see if anyone recognized them or whether they might jog some memories.

Most of the stores appeared to be little more than hobby shops for the terminally silly, for teenagers and goths and oddballs and cranks. There were a few aimed at Wiccans and the granola cruncher set, but they were little better. Almost all of them focused on witchcraft, love potions, and communicating with the dead; the mention of vampires drew blank looks or amusement.

It wasn’t until she happened upon a shop in a seedy basement that she found anything of interest. The shop was tiny, the shelves and products on them handmade, and the proprietor a wizened old man with surprisingly bright green eyes, but at the mention of vampirism those eyes narrowed defensively and flickered up and down as if examining her anew.

‘You’ll not find much relation between petty potions and vampires, miss,’ he said in a rasping voice. ‘What all these would be magic users try to do at best, is imitate what some do natural like.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Leah said.

‘Well, not that I’d know of course, but if there was a vampire, not that I’m saying there is of course, but if there was you’d not find them messing about with potions and charms and ingredients for brews and such. According to myths and legends they have their own powers, powers that come natural, or as we might say, unnaturally to them. Powerful creatures are vampires, so they say.’

‘And what powers do vampires possess, exactly?’ she asked in a skeptical voice.

‘Aside from the power over death, you mean?’ he asked with a wry smile. ‘Oh, unnatural lifespan, speed and strength, as all the movies show, and a powerful ability to influence what others think and feel. They say one could be standing right next to you and you’d not know it unless he or she wanted you to.’

‘You mean that bespelling with the eyes nonsense?’ Leah asked, getting more intrigued.

‘Something such as that, but I think there’s considerably more to it.’

‘Such as?’

‘Am I an expert on vampires and legends, or something?’ he asked with a little laugh. ‘Besides, if there was such a folk they’d not look happy at me talking about them to the police. Not at all.’ He looked around and then slyly back at Leah. ‘They’d not look happy at people poking around asking questions about them, neither.’

‘I’m not terribly worried,’ she said coolly, but with little conviction.

He smiled, somewhat sympathetically. ‘You should be, dearie,’ he said. ‘You should be.’

‘Where could I find more information about them?’ she asked, trying to shake off the sudden feeling of dread his sinister words provoked.

He sighed and shook his head. ‘There are a few, um, practitioners of lore who might be willing to tell you a thing or two.’

At last Leah felt she might just be getting somewhere. ‘Can you give me some names?’

The late afternoon seemed chilly as she left the shop, and she drew her coat closer about herself. The sun was setting, and she mentally scoffed at the thought that vampires would soon be out and about. Vampires, she thought scornfully; the idea was ludicrous. What she had come across was a cult, perhaps with some expertise in hypnotism or drugs.

She got into her car and glanced down at the first name on the list, then started the engine and pulled away from the curb, determined to find something out before returning home.

Leah felt blind for a long moment, or almost blind, for there was a small circle of light directly in front of her, off in the distance. She was cold, chilled and she groaned weakly as she tried to raise her arms. They seemed immensely heavy. Her back was aching and she had a blinding headache. Her vision swam, and then slowly came into focus, and she realized she was staring at a distant neon sign – an upside down neon sign.

No, she was upside down, or rather, her head was upside down, hanging over the edge of… something. Her head slowly cleared. She was sprawled spread-eagled across something, her legs hanging over one side, her head, shoulders and arms over the other.

She groaned as she struggled to right herself, wriggling downwards, grasping the sides of whatever it was and pulling herself back so that her shoulders and head no longer dangled. She pushed herself upright, which was a mistake, the rush of blood making her vision swim again. She fell back, hitting her head on whatever it was she was lying on. She felt and heard her stomach rumble alarmingly and moaned, clasping her head between her hands. Thankfully the world, and her stomach, began to settle again.

She was in a dark alley, lying across a packing crate. Her leather coat was unbuttoned and open, and her clothes were gone. She sat up much more slowly than before, carefully testing the effects of being upright, and drew the coat closed against the chill. Trembling, she swayed on the crate for a long minute before slipping off, gripping the side to steady herself, and then looking about.