On the Far Side of Darkness (26 page)

Diane pulled back to declare, “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you. You’re going to be delicious.” She took the girl by the ass, lifted her up and bore her towards a nearby alley. The easy way she walked showed that this required no effort on her part.

The woman being carried wrapped her legs around Diane. Her hips shimmied. She gibbered with her want. Cindy placed her mouth on Diane’s neck to lick and kiss the pale skin with abandon.

The entwined women entered the alley and went down it a short distance. Dropping her clutch, one of the auburn haired woman’s hands let go of the full cheek it held and lifted up the white halter top hiding Cindy’s breasts. When revealed they were marvelous; large, firm, with broad aureola and stiff nipples. Diane grabbed a handful of brunette hair, bent Cindy back and sucked on a tasty mound.

An inarticulate sound bubbled out from the young woman. The sweat on Cindy’s skin began to run. Her legs tightened their hold and the rhythm of her hips sped up. She clung to her seducer with a desperate grip.

“Want to see a neat trick I learned recently?” asked Diane.

Cindy managed to lean her head forward. Her eyes were glassy, a simper of blind hunger leered across her mouth. She whined a sound betraying the exquisite passion filling her.

Diane took that as agreement. Smiling, she grabbed a rigid nipple in her canines and bit softly.

The girl’s mouth dropped and her eyes snapped wide. Her voice devolved into a sputtering babble. Cindy’s hands seized her ravisher’s biceps. Every muscle in her body drew tight.

The pale skinned woman let go of the stiff nubbin and continued playing. Her tongue washed over Cindy’s sweat slick skin. She drew in the nipple not yet played with and bit that one as well.

Cindy jerked, hissed and moaned through the erotic treatment. “What’s,” she murmured, “happening? Never…” That was all she could say before the nip of Diane’s teeth washed away her wits.

“Are you ready?” asked the redhead.

Cindy’s answer was an aching groan.

Diane chuckled and let go of her plaything’s ass. Cindy planted her feet on the ground. With a quick motion, the woman in the black dress turned the girl around so they were spooned together. Her left hand gripped a firm breast, the right went under the white mini-skirt and petted the sopping garment covering Cindy’s engorged labia.

The fingers on her hot skin drove the olive skinned girl’s passion to the very edge of sanity. Her entire body shuddered with the sensation triggered by Diane’s gentle touch. Somehow a “Please!” succeeded in passing her lips. It was a word eloquent with rapture.

“What ever you say,” grinned the red headed huntress. Her fingers pushed the sodden fabric of Cindy’s thong aside. Two of them slid into the hot, quivering pussy revealed and her thumb placed itself on a hard clit. She pumped slowly, tickled with a gentle touch.

So Cindy got what she needed.

Her hips blurred in a mad rhythm while her body jerked at the wild eruption of bliss that rocketed through her. She pressed her head into Diane’s shoulder. Her mouth opened to fill the air with a keening wail. Anyone who heard that sound would know exactly how intense Cindy’s orgasm was.

Diane’s mouth rushed to the climaxing woman’s neck. Her auburn hair fell forward to cover her face.

Cindy’s brown eyes goggled, her face went slack. Her body’s movement stopped save for an occasional quiver. At random moments her throat worked in a gulp. At others, her mouth opened and closed in a silent gasp.

For just over a minute the women held this tableau. Then Diane pulled her head back. Cindy collapsed in her grip, gulped at the air like a swimmer who had nearly been pulled to sea by an undertow.

The face that pulled away was not the face that had descended. Now the features were monstrously beautiful, a sight that would cause terror with its sharp, too perfect glory. The green irises held a hideous malice.

The creature looked down at the small holes still oozing blood in Cindy’s neck. Her evil eyes lit up, her head started to descend once more.

An instant later, the woman returned. Her mouth was grim and her face hard. The thin lips relaxed and her sweet smile reformed. Diane’s irises lightened, all traces of shadow fled from them. Her head moved again and she licked up the thin trickle of red liquid. The punctures vanished as her tongue moved over them.

“How do you feel?” she asked the still slack girl in her arms.

Cindy mouthed a faltering sound in response. One arm lifted for a moment then flopped downwards. A twitch shook her before she wilted once more.

“I’m glad,” smiled Diane. “Let’s get you home.” She drew her meal’s halter back into place then stooped for her purse. The vampire moved next to Cindy, placed an arm around the young woman’s back and lead the shaky legged girl out of the alley.

The femme staggered. She made a sound like the beginning of a sob. This was followed by a feeble giggle. Her eyes were torpid and her face slack.

A familiar snarl greeted them as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Diane turned her head in the direction of the bar to see Roxy and her compatriots standing a few paces away. The big butch took a step forward, clenched her fists.

Diane’s eyes filled with darkness again.

Roxy’s gaze looked right into the stygian gulf of them. The muscular woman blanched, gasped. A wide stain appeared on the crotch of her jeans. She turned and ran. Her companions followed. They hadn’t caught the full force of the small woman’s glower but had seen enough to want to be elsewhere.

Diane’s sea green irises became normal once more. A cab turned the corner and she flagged it down. She placed Cindy in the back seat and gave the girl a soft parting kiss. “Sleep, sweetie. Eat something with lots of red meat in it tomorrow. An iron supplement is a good idea too.” She pulled a hundred dollar bill from her clutch and gave it to the driver, telling him to keep the change. She watched with a smile as the cab pulled away.

“Enjoy yourself,
cher
?” sounded a voice. It came from a lithe figure garbed in black leaning against a lamp post across the street. The man’s hair was dark and a little long. His eyes were blue and his skin was as pale as Diane’s. A warm smile graced his lips.

Diane’s smile changed at the sight of him. It grew wide and matched his tenderness. Her eyes sparkled as she walked towards him. “Yeah,” she answered, “I did.”

In a moment their arms were around each other, they kissed deep and long. The embrace was passionate but not wild. They fit together just so, belonged to each other.

The couple broke apart. A warm content graced their features. Each turned so they were side by side, an arm around the other’s waist. Steps matching, they moved away from Diane’s hunt.

“It was interesting,” the woman remarked.

“How so?” the man asked.

“When I was human, Georges, and came to places like this, I’d have been going home with Roxy about now. I was the femme then. This time there was no interest at all. It was Cindy who I wanted.”

“Two predators hunting for much the same thing,
cheri
,” he explained. “There isn’t likely to be attraction between them. Competition instead. You handled that well. Conflict can draw too much attention.”

Diane kissed him on the cheek.

“If I may make an observation though?” Georges went on.

“Sure.”

“A touch more subtlety next time. You weren’t in there more than fifteen minutes when you came out with your meal. The girl was nearly catatonic, and you managed to make someone angry with you at the same time. We don’t need to feed as often as humans. So take your time. It’s more entertaining when you savor your hunt.”

Diane ruminated for a second. A puckish cast appeared on her face. “I guess I did overdo it a little. But it was fun. Watching Cindy give into my power was delicious, and I liked intimidating Roxy.”

“Be very careful with that, my love. The monster in you is strengthened by those temptations.”

Diane’s body tightened and she shivered.

He stopped them walking and hugged her close. “Not to worry,” Georges reassured her. “You did well. Just be aware. The monster’s often more subtle than we give it credit for.” He gave her a loving kiss, one which she answered.

The couple broke apart again and continued on their way.

“May I ask a question, Georges?”

“Always.”

“Why did you insist I hunt alone tonight?”

“It’s time for you to make your own identity,
mon amour
.”

Diane turned her face towards him and her forehead furrowed in puzzlement.

“When I made you a year ago,” Georges explained, “you were my child. You knew nothing of yourself, your power or the world you’d be living in. You needed me to support you as you learned all these things.

“You’ve learned well.”

His lover rested her head on his biceps and hugged him.

“But as with humans you need to be able to make your own way. You need to know that you are yourself, not just an extension of me. I want you to want me, Diane. I don’t want you to need me.”

The next instant Diane wrapped herself around Georges, legs behind his buttocks and his face in her hands. She kissed him with a fierce, but human passion. He returned it. They held there for a minute.

She let him go, stood on her feet. “Thank you, my darling,” she said. “I’ll always want you.” Her face was that of a woman deeply in love.

His expression was that of a man feeling exactly the same emotion.

Resuming their positions the couple sauntered on their way.

“Now come,
cher
,” Georges announced. “I’ve spent a great deal of my existence in New York. Allow me to show it to you.”

Diane tightened her arm in agreement and they moved off into the night.

Table of Contents

Clint Hammes leaned forward in the back seat of the car. “Hey, guys. I think we’ve got one.” Blonde, blue eyed and in great shape, he still looked a lot like the surfer and high school quarterback he’d been years ago.

A grunt came from the driver, a big man with a bull neck and large, solid muscles. His name was Pedro Rodriguez but every one knew him as ‘Hulk’. The sound he made was rich with dark anticipation.

“I see her, boss,” was the response from the person in the front passenger seat. Darren Nyman was small and slightly built with mousy brown hair and eyes to match. His quick, nervous mannerisms made his nickname of ‘Weasel’ an obvious one.

They were driving east on Lakeshore Blvd. and the time was two in the morning. Just passing the water treatment plant the person that had caught their interest was about halfway between them and the Coxwell Ave. light. All that could be told so far is that she was petite and female. The streetlight she was under showed that her hair was a mane of auburn waves. She moved with an easy grace, her steps smooth and her balance effortless.

“Keep driving, Hulk,” directed Clint. “Don’t spook her.”

Weasel opened the laptop sitting on his thighs. In a couple of seconds a map of Toronto showed and he directed the view of it to the area they were in. “Turn right at the light, Hulk. Then hang left. There’s a parking lot that will let us see what she does.”

The trio had learned to be careful since they’d first met in an exclusive private school a decade before. They soon found they had a similar idea of what fun was, and they had their first taste of that fun with one of their female teachers. Several hours with her left the woman battered and carrying the child of one of them.

It was careless of the trio. She hadn’t taken it lying down and had gone to the principal. He, realizing how damaging a scandal would be, called their parents. Their fathers had been very upset. Not for what their offspring had done, but for making things complicated.

Those fathers; Clint’s, a ‘security consultant’ specializing in industrial espionage; Weasel’s, a defense attorney not above making witnesses disappear if need be; and Hulk’s, a Mexican drug lord; bought off the school’s owners. The drug lord sent a couple of his men to the woman and her husband to explain the consequences of continuing to make a stink.

After which, each father had people in their employ give their sons a professional beating for being stupid.

Those sons had been very careful ever since.

As the car drove by their possible next victim, Clint checked her out.

The woman had a sweet face with very pale skin and no makeup. Not that she needed any. Her slight frame was dressed in black; running shoes, jeans and T-shirt. These were just tight enough to show her breasts were a little on the small side and her legs shapely. She wasn’t that young, mid-thirties he guessed, but wore the years well. The redheaded woman probably had a husband and children.

Good,
Clint thought with a malicious smile.
We can use that against her. She’ll suffer more if we let her think she’ll see them again.
A frown crinkled his forehead as he puzzled a little.
She’s a little old to be dressed so Goth though.

The woman glanced at the car as it went by. This caused the blond man another moment of disquiet. She wasn’t afraid in the least. Most women would not be happy with three men so close when the woman was alone this early in the morning. Their target noted the car was there but wasn’t concerned at all.

For several seconds, Clint pondered.
Maybe we should find someone else. This doesn’t read right.

Then his face twisted in disgust at his cowardice.
She’s just a cunt. Prey. No woman is a danger to us. We’ll use her and kill her, just like all the others.

Hulk followed Weasel’s directions. A minute after the passed they sign that read ‘Woodbine Beach/Ashbridge’s Bay Park’ they were parked at a corner of the lot. The lake was just visible through the widely spaced trees of the park.

“Okay,” Weasel started. “She can go five ways. She can turn back. If she does we’ll lose her. She’ll be gone before we can follow.

“She can cross Lakeshore at the light and head north on Coxwell. I don’t recommend we follow. It’s too likely there'd be witnesses. There’s houses and apartments not far away and she could make it to them.

“If she continues along Lakeshore we have too small a window to grab her and we’d likely to be seen. Houses again.

“If she enters the park it’s better for us. There’s a boardwalk right in front of us. If she uses that, we can drop someone to herd her east. The others take the car to the pool in that direction. We can drop another person, catch her between us and get her in the car. The window is a little small there as well. Past the pool is a lot of houses again.

“Best is if she hangs right. That will take her into a spit of land. There’s a small marina there. I don’t think there are any people there at this time of night. From what I see none of the boats are meant to be lived aboard.

“If she goes that way, we can herd her to the end of the spit and we’ve got her!” Weasel’s voice was full of excitement at that prospect.

“Your analysis of the situation is flawless as always,” Clint complimented his partner in crime. He picked up a set of light amplifying binoculars from the seat next to him, brought them to his eyes and directed his gaze in the direction they’d last seen the woman they’d chosen.

“I see her,” he informed his compadres. “She’s heading down the fork in the lane we didn’t take.”

“Wait a bit,” Weasel advised him. “She’ll have to cross it to get to the boardwalk.”

They waited.

“She didn’t cross,” Clint noted. “Heading along the drive towards that building there.”

“Yacht club,” said Weasel. “Closed this time of night. What’s she up to now?”

“Going past the club. Heading south.”

“Good. She’s committed. There’s nowhere to go but the spit.” Weasel turned his laptop towards Hulk. Clint leaned over the seat to look.

“See?” the thin man pointed. “There’s a paved path that runs around the edge of the spit. It splits there and joins again at the far end. She can’t get past us.”

“Okay,” decided Clint. “Here’s what we do.” He gestured at the screen with a finger. “We go to this point, where we split up. Hulk go left, follow the path along the lake. Weasel, up the middle. I’ll take the right and check out the marina.

“Gloves, gentlemen,” he announced then. Each of them pulled on tight latex gloves.

“Is the clean up equipment ready?” was his question to Weasel.

“Yeah, boss. Enough for three sinkings.” The trunk of their car contained plastic sheets, chains and bricks. When they were done, their prey would be wrapped in a cocoon and a brick chained to her feet. Once stuffed in the trunk they’d go to a boat Hulk’s father owned, sail into Lake Ontario and dump her deep. Like the other twenty-one times they’d hunted.

“Clean phones, guys.”

Weasel reached into the glove compartment and pulled out three cell phones, brand new, prepaid and to be dumped in the lake with their victim. While they were handed out, Clint reached under his seat and grabbed the silenced Glock 9mm pistol he’d stashed there. He clipped it to the back of his belt, concealing it under his jacket.

“Let’s go,” was his final order.

The trio of rapists left their vehicle and started their hunt.

It was a five minute walk to the point where they would start herding their prey. “Phone if you need to,” smiled Clint and they went their separate ways.

The blond killer kept his head moving as he walked along the right hand path, watching for their target or any witnesses. There was no sign of the woman. Hulk quickly disappeared from sight behind the rise of the spit. Weasel could be seen in the half full moonlight at the top of it.

Clint checked out the marina as he approached. The thirty odd boats moored there were all dark. None was suited for sleeping aboard so he figured they were all empty.
Good. No witnesses.

The blond man pulled out his cell to contact Weasel. “Marina’s empty,” he whispered. “See her yet?”

“Not a thing, boss,” was the reply.

A quick call to Hulk got him the same report.

Soon the path leaned left and Clint followed it. A small amount of concern made him frown just a touch. The ground was open, the grass well kept with only small trees scattered through it. There was no place to hide. He wondered where their next victim had gotten to.

The path came to an end, turned back towards the lake to form the route Hulk had followed. A copse of trees and brush was just beyond it. The three men exchanged surprised expressions. None of them had seen their prey.

Clint looked around, then leaned forward to examine the scrub in front of him. “There’s a path here,” he noted quietly.

The others smiled, and he joined them. The woman had gone to the very end of the spit. There was no way now for her to slip past them. The undergrowth was tight enough that only the narrow trail would allow her to escape. That meant there was no way past them.

“I’ll go first,” he told his partners in a whisper. “Hulk next and then you, Weasel. If it opens up, Hulk goes left and Weasel right. Be quiet, gentlemen. We want to surprise her.”

The three men showed hunter’s smiles. Surprising their victims was something they’d never tire of.

They headed down the path, Clint feeling with his feet to find and move things that might make noise out of the way.

It turned out the copse wasn’t large, perhaps forty paces wide. Then it opened into a small clearing at the shoreline of the spit. Illumination spilled from the water treatment plant across the bay. Coupled with the moonlight the cleared area was a bit more than dimly lit.

The woman was standing at the very edge of the open space, looking out at the city gleaming in the darkness. She stood feet slightly apart, head cocked a little. Her posture spoke of how enrapt she was with the beauty she saw.

The men took their positions, each growing tight with anticipation of what they were about to do. Clint cleared his throat and said, “Good morning.” His voice dripped with sarcastic courtesy.

The woman turned to face them with the same smooth grace she had displayed while walking. She didn’t jump or twitch. Her face was impassive with just a touch of curiosity. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked in a calm voice. Her words carried the drawl of the Southern States.

Weasel chuckled. “Gentlemen she called us.”

“Oh yeah,” rumbled Hulk with wicked amusement. “You can help us a lot.” His right hand gripped his crotch, caressed his erection.

Their prey’s face twisted with mirth at their actions. She gave a low chuckle. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Clint felt yet another shiver of unease. This wasn’t going according to plan. The woman should be frightened out of her wits, begging for mercy she wouldn’t receive. But there was no sign of any of those actions.

“Cunt!” spat Hulk. “We’ve done this lots of times. We’re damned good at it and you’re going to be sorry for laughing at us!”

The woman’s face locked tight. Her body shivered. She glared at her tormentors. “That was not a good thing to say,” she remarked through clenched teeth. Those teeth were very white. It might have been the low light but it seemed that, for a moment, her canines were long and sharp. “I don’t care much for people like you.”

Clint’s anger rose to match Hulk’s.
Who does this bitch think she is?
He reached to the small of his back, pulled out his pistol and pointed it at her. “You really ought to modify your attitude if you want to live, you stupid slut.” His lip curled in a grimace of pique.

Her look of amusement returned. Another chuckle sounded. “If I want to live,” she chortled.

The blond man’s anger turned to fury at her disdain. A sneer plastered itself across his mouth as he lowered the muzzle of his weapon a little and squeezed the trigger.

The hollow point bullet smashed into her left knee and it exploded in a spray of gore. Their prey collapsed face down on the ground. Her injured leg stretched out behind her, the angle of the calf showing that no more than thin strips of tissue held it to her thigh.

The trio of rapists smiled. Now would come one of their favorite things, those whines of terror and agony that proved how powerful they were, how much greater they were than the bulk of humanity.

They gaped in surprise then. As they watched, the woman’s leg straightened. Although hidden under cloth and bloody ruin it was obvious her knee was repairing itself, its bone reforming, her muscles and sinews knitting themselves back together. A dreadful growl trembled from the figure on the ground. The woman raised her head to look at them.

All three men whimpered in terror. They now knew that what they had hunted was not a woman.

She’d been pretty before. Now she was beautiful in an utterly inhuman way. Her face might have been carved out of bone by Hell’s greatest sculptor. In her snarling mouth were the sharp fangs of her kind, perfectly designed to draw the blood from her prey. The vampire’s eyes were full of dark, hideous malevolence. All the blackest terrors of humanity was contained in them.