The Hunter's Prey (16 page)

The owl was gone within seconds and there was no sign of Rafael Perez. I searched hard, using my best tracking skills, but his trail stopped at the point where he had stretched.
 

I said some unkind things under my breath and headed for the lake at a trot. I spotted the woman soon enough but she was boarding a big houseboat. She moved easily with no sign of weakness or injury. I could see lights and hear voices from the boat’s cabin so I didn’t follow.
 

The headache was gone by the time I reached my truck. I never get headaches so it was probably a mild allergic reaction to some of the vegetation. I hope it doesn’t bother me again although I’m sure it wouldn’t make me stop my research.
 

Now what do I do? Tell the police? They wouldn’t believe me; I’m not sure I believe myself.
 

The first thing to do is probably check to see if any injury was caused. I’ll find her tomorrow and see how she’s doing. If there’s an injury, I’ll try to talk her into seeing a doctor, maybe the cops. If there’s no injury, then I’ll keep quiet until I’ve got some observations worth reporting.

June 1st (later that night):
 

I was still thinking about what I’d observed while I got ready for bed. So I took a shower to relax.
 

I kept seeing Rafael as he pleasured that woman. My hand unconsciously went between my legs, repeating what I’d seen him do. I closed my eyes but heard her voice begging him for more. My hand started moving faster and faster until I came, in a climax that left me sitting in the bathtub.
 

Some time later, I roused myself when cold water started pouring from the showerhead.
 

I’ve never lost consciousness before from an orgasm and I’ve masturbated many times.

I’m going to bed now, determined not to think about this anymore.
 

June 2nd (before dawn):

I can’t believe the dream I just had. I’m writing it down now, while I still remember it. Hopefully it’ll seem less important in the morning.

I dreamed that I was a horned owl, flying through the night skies with another owl. It was incredibly vivid; I could feel the wind lifting my wings and its sound being muffled by my feathers. The larger owl and I seemed to be playing, gliding and dipping above the trees. It was more fun than anything I’ve ever imagined.

Just because I could, I swooped over a meadow to see the flowers. I alighted amidst some bluebonnets and quickly turned back into myself, laughing quietly. The other owl landed behind me and a man wrapped his arms around me, chuckling.
 

I leaned back against him and realized that it was Rafael. Neither of us wore any clothing, which seemed very unimportant then, almost customary for us. I savored the feel of that big, strong body giving its heat to me. I could feel his chest move as he breathed in and out against my back. I could see his forearms resting against me, their black hairs silvered by the moon.
 

I felt safe. And happy and cherished.

I turned around in his arms and kissed him. A very gentle kiss, the lightest possible contact as I chortled. I could feel his mouth soften and move against mine in a sweet dance. Then his tongue delicately glided over my lips, in an elegant mimicry of the dance we’d shared in the skies above.
 

My hand slid up the back of his neck until my palm rested on the strong muscles and my fingers tangled in his hair. It was long, thick and silky — and irresistible to me. My other hand soon joined it and I lost myself in his kiss as my mouth opened for him.

The only thing that existed then was his mouth, his hands holding me close, and his hard body against me. I lived for the connection with him.
 

When he lifted his head, we laughed together for joy. I have never laughed as much as I did in this dream.

That kiss proves that this was just a dream. Nobody can kiss like that, not that I’ve ever heard of or experienced. Perhaps in books but even there, only in fiction.

June 2nd:
 

I started the day determined to scientifically analyze last night’s events. I did a web search but it returned too many hits to be quickly absorbed. So I went out to interview the only other eyewitness. I needed to make sure that she was well and perhaps I could obtain some additional information from her.
 

I found the woman easily enough. She didn’t put in an appearance until almost noon but she looked fine. She had a small bandage on her neck but no other signs of injury. I observed her for almost an hour before approaching her.
 

She didn’t have much to say to me, which wasn’t surprising since she blinked at my outfit. Her bikini was a lot newer than my ancient one-piece, which was all I could come up with for lakeside attire.
 

I tried chatting to her but I’m no good with small talk about men, chocolate, or shopping. She seemed to assume that I was looking for advice on where to meet the best men. She was fairly polite and did suggest that I check out the local fire station. It offers weekly bingo and monthly dances; she thought that I might be able to meet some interesting men there. She also thought I might be able to get my red haircut and styled at the local beauty salon. (Like I’m going to spend my money on frequent haircuts!)
 

The conversation was stupid but at least I established that she was perfectly healthy and of sound mind, if not much brainpower. I definitely didn’t learn anything from her about vampires.
 

Then I looked for third-person accounts of vampires but couldn’t find much scientific analysis in Austin’s libraries.
 

Finally, I started looking for accounts of vampires in local bookstores. The bookstores ran the gamut from enormous respectable places to trendy little shops that sold some very non-mainstream stuff, such as videos and supplies for masturbation.
 

A thunderstorm blew up just after nightfall, as I found the last bookstore on my list. It was an unusual place, with pictures of dead and dying men covering every inch of wall that wasn’t full of heavy, dark wooden bookcases. Old flags hung from the ceiling and shivered in the slightest draft. The best light came from the thunderstorm outside, as lightning bolts picked out old tales of warfare.
 

It had the best selection of vampire lore though. I met a young guy there, probably a graduate student, named Beau something. He knew a lot about vampires and was a big help in finding the right books. I hugged him once in relief, when he unearthed a particularly useful and rare reference book.
 

He invited me to go out with him for coffee but I declined. I had gotten a splitting headache while I was in that bookstore and I just wanted to go home. Beau was disappointed and pushed me to accept. He finally accepted my refusal, saying that he hoped we’d meet again soon.
 

I brought home over a dozen books, fiction and non-fiction. I even bought a couple of “vampire encyclopedias.”

But the books raised more questions than they answered. There’s not a lot of agreement on what a vampire is or does. So I started describing vampires on my own.
 

Apex predator at the top of the food chain.
 

Feeds primarily or solely on blood.
 

Hunting technique emphasizes sexual attraction.
 

May or may not kill prey.
 

May or may not be seen in daylight.
 

May or may not be capable of sexual acts, specifically orgasm and/or ejaculation.

I tried to figure out the details of a vampire’s attack, see if there were some vulnerabilities in the method. (All the sources did agree that vampires are too strong and fast for standard escape and evasion tactics.)
 

This description got me nowhere so I decided to unpack more of my books. But I still kept thinking about Rafael. His beautiful, graceful body. His fangs.

I took another shower, using lukewarm water. My body promptly remembered what it had enjoyed the last time I had stood in the small tiled enclosure and my fingers started playing with myself again.
 

I wondered if Rafael ever did something like this. Did he truly enjoy women like that blonde? Or did he sometimes pleasure himself, if only for some quiet?

I called myself names and tried to think of other things, like grant applications for research money or examining an eagle. Those birds have a nasty temper, backed by a beak and claws. I’ve been nicked more than once while handling eagles.
 

But I kept trying to imagine what Rafael would look like if he fondled himself. Would he look ecstatic or pained? Or both? Would he move with style, like the way he’d handled that woman? Or would he be direct? Would he prefer to touch just the shaft of his penis or someplace else?
 

I climaxed, and found myself sitting in the bathtub. Again.
 

June 3rd:
 

I finished unpacking my books only to discover that I’d put my medieval European history texts in the middle of my anatomy reference books. I had enjoyed that class, especially writing the term paper on Alfonso El Sabio, the great 13th century Spanish king. It had been fascinating reading about how well Christians, Moslems, and Jews had lived together then. The flowering of music, poetry, and science during his reign was amazing; I had even memorized some of the cantigas, the great love songs of the time.

Suddenly I could see and hear Rafael singing a cantiga about a knight who had unwillingly left his beloved to follow the king’s orders. He was dressed in full armor and a chain mail coif draped his head. His face was startlingly different, without the scar slashing his eyebrow. His eyes were relaxed, soft and rather absent-minded, as he hummed more than sang the melancholy lyrics.
 

I caught my breath as the music washed over me. Then I shook my head fiercely. Abstraction was one thing but fantasies were another.
 

I moved the history texts away from the anatomy books and with the other liberal arts textbooks. Then I moved my paleontology texts, including my term paper on North American predators during the Ice Ages, away from the history texts so they followed the anatomy materials. Sabre-tooth tigers are much more closely related to anatomy than to cantigas.
 

Finally I faced the pile of vampire books and my notes. My analysis left me with more questions than I’d started with. So I decided to go back into the research center to use their library. I wanted to compare more of the standard literature on predators to what I’d found on vampires.
 

My mind was a thousand miles away when I walked into the center just before sunset. I stopped dead when I came into the reception area.
 

Bob, the center’s director, was talking to Rafael Perez.
 

I froze. I must have turned white as a sheet. I wished I were carrying my shotgun or my Colt, the ones my godfather had given me for protection from rogue animals.
 

Bob greeted me with a big grin on his face and introduced me. It seems Rafael Perez is the administrator of the neighboring trust. (Rafael insisted that we call him by his first name. I gulped.)
 

I must have said something polite, because neither of them seemed surprised at my behavior, but I don’t remember.
 

I think Bob thought my tongue-tied state meant sexual attraction to Rafael Perez. He said something about needing to get home now and I could give Rafael a private tour.
 

Bob was out of the building within minutes.
 

Rafael was very polite and made conversation about my research as we went through the center. But I stayed extremely wary until we got back among the convalescent birds and saw their reaction to him. Very few people know how to move around injured wild birds; you have to be much quieter than most people are used to. The birds were relaxed around him and barely bothered to wake up.
 

Like the birds, I started getting calmer the longer I was around him. I was thinking more about the birds and my research, less about sex with him.
 

We finished up in the lounge, drinking soda from the vending machine.
 

Rafael seemed genuinely interested in my dissertation. I talked more to him about it than I ever have to anyone who wasn’t on my advisory committee.
 

It was almost midnight when he shocked me.

“Do you have any questions for me, querida?”
 

My eyes widened when he called me darling. Was he coming on to me? What did he want from me?

“Relax, Grania. I give endearments only to very special people, not passing fancies. You are a very unique woman,” he offered with a slight bow. “I would like to study you, as you would like to study me.”

I flushed with embarrassment at being so obvious but felt a chill of fear at the same time.