by Lora Edwards
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she responded after a short pause. She saw Victor and Armand watching her out of the corner of her eye, and she resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at them. She was not a child; she could control her bloodlust.
“The case files are in here. After the third killing, we started a task force. The American FBI has even sent over one of their profilers. In fact, you are right on time. They have been studying the cases and are about to give a lecture on their findings.”
“This ought to be interesting,” Victor whispered in her ear, causing her to smile. It would be interesting to see how this person profiled a vampire.
They walked into a large well-lit room with three long tables shoved together. The surface was littered with folders, papers, discarded coffee cups, and old takeout containers. She felt an illicit thrill go through her body as her expectations were met; this was what she’d expected to see in the middle of an investigation. The tidy front office was a façade, and this was where the real work happened.
“Agent Malone, this is Victor, Armand, and Victoria from Interpol. Victoria is one of their forensic experts and will be examining the bodies following your presentation.”
Agent Malone was a short, trim woman. She stood with her back straight and exuded competence and authority. Her ice blue eyes surveyed the three of them, missing nothing, and Victoria swallowed. If anyone was going to be able to see through their fake identities, it would be this woman. She just hoped her vampire allure was strong enough to convince the agent. They took their seats at the long table while Agent Malone waited patiently in front of a large screen.
“I have looked at the crime scene, both in the field and in photos, and it is obvious this is the work of one very organized serial killer.”
She pushed a button on the remote she held in her hand and the screen behind her came to life, displaying the first crime scene. Victoria found herself somewhat appreciating the carnage she had witnessed at the hands of the countess. She knew without that experience, she would have blown her cover upon viewing such a grisly scene.
A naked young woman was splayed out on rough cobblestones, and the sight of black water just visible underneath her indicated she was on a bridge of some sort. Her skin was the distinctive white of someone who had been drained of blood, her lips white, eyes staring at the sky as if asking for help from the heavens above.
Her body was unmarred, her skin smooth and unblemished, suggesting to Victoria not the absence of torture, but that she had been fed vampire blood to heal her body each time afterward. The countess always liked to play with her food.
“On each of the bodies there were two distinct patterns: small bite marks at the carotid and femoral arteries, and a brand on the inside of the wrist.”
Agent Malone clicked again and another picture came into view, one zoomed in on the brand on the woman’s right wrist. Victoria rubbed at the place on her skin where the same brand had been applied, tugging on her sleeve to ensure the mark was covered. They didn’t need the questions the humans would ask if it were discovered. The countess had done it before she turned her in order to mark her as one of hers, and she had kept her alive so the mark healed completely, ensuring it would stay when she turned. Most scars and blemishes healed when one was turned, but the countess had added magic to it to ensure that it remained.
She branded each and every one of her victims as a way of warning other vampires off of her food. She kept the women in cages in the house or castle she inhabited, and Victoria herself had been on the other side of that branding iron, marking prey that would be consumed by the countess, telling the other vampires in their court that these girls were off limits.
She had been one of those girls, and she could still feel the pain of the iron after all these centuries, the smell of cooking flesh and the immense pain that had made her cry out and struggle against the vampires holding her down. These pictures were bringing it all back for her, the terror of being in the clutches of the countess.
She again heard the rhythmic click as picture after picture whizzed by in a kaleidoscope of beautiful bloodless corpses, all young women in the prime of their lives, all cut down by one creature’s obsession.
“As you can see, each of the victims show the MO of the killer: the same small bite marks, the same draining of the blood, the same branding on the wrist before being dumped in an open yet desolate place, as if the killer is flirting with wanting to have their work seen and discovered, but also smart enough to keep it somewhat hidden.”
This Agent Malone had just pegged the essence of the countess. She flirted with the adventure of the chase but always made sure she was two steps ahead of her pursuers, constantly alternating between being the hunted and the hunter.
“As you are all aware, most serial killers are male. Female serial killers do exist, but they normally kill for money, or to get rid of a spouse.”
She clicked again and an enlarged photo of one of the bite marks was shown. They were small, almost dainty. The countess believed in torture but also in elegance, and she was always neat and tidy when eating so that not one drop was spilled.
“These bite marks are small, and based on the wound pattern, it seems the teeth have been filed to points.” Agent Malone indicated with a red light the sharp indentations in the white flesh. “It is my opinion and that of the medical examiner that we are looking for a female killer.”
She straightened up and stared into the face of each person in the room, daring them to deny what they saw with their own eyes. When no one spoke, her shoulders sagged a bit and she went on.
“I believe the person—or woman, in my opinion—holds the sincere belief that she is a vampire. She drinks some of the blood from her victims and then allows them to bleed to death, causing the corpses to be completely relieved of all the blood in their system. I don’t believe she is acting alone, and there may be more victims or others in her community. There have been a rash of killings of both men and women where their throats have been torn out. They had not been previously linked to these cases, but I believe they are the work of others who also suffer from the delusion that they are vampires as well.”
Victoria looked around at the nods from the other law enforcement officers in the room. If they only knew how true the profiler’s assessments was.
Agent Malone continued. “It is my belief that one or more of them is very wealthy with a place to hold the girls prisoner before they are killed.
“Why do you believe the perp is wealthy,” one of the investigators in the room asked.
Agent Malone nodded. “Excellent question. With each body, there was another piece of evidence that links them besides the bite marks and the brand. Each body was found with a piece of expensive silk wrapped around their neck. It was not used to strangle but tied in a bow, as if the body is a gift.”
Victoria felt the last of her doubts wash away. This was the countess. It was the piece de résistance. She knew without seeing the bodies or smelling her scent on the murdered girls; the silk bow proved it. It was her signature, saying it was a gift what she did to her girls, as she called her victims.
Victoria turned to look at Victor and Armand and gave a small nod, confirming it was the countess. They would have to go through the motions to look at the bodies of the dead to appease the human authorities, but the details all added up.
The screen behind Agent Malone went white as she passed the final picture, completing her lecture. It was funny how close the humans came to the supernatural. They had even identified what the killer was, despite the fact that they didn’t believe it was real. They needed to stop the countess not only to save lives but also because if they allowed her and those like her to continue, she would expose supernaturals. The humans would find out what goes bump in the night is real, and then, as humans do, they would destroy what they did not understand.
“Doctor…what was your last name? I’m assuming you are a doctor, Victoria, isn’t it?” Agent Malone had mov
ed to stand in front of Victoria and was looking down at her.
Before she could respond, Armand interjected smoothly. “Draconus, and yes it is Dr. Draconus.” He spoke with a slightly condescending tone, as if she should know better than to ask the question.
Agent Malone had the grace to look a bit sheepish, just nodding as the others at the briefing filed out of the room. “Are you ready to examine the bodies?”
Victoria smiled at the agent and stood. “I am always ready to look at the bodies.” The agent gave her a slightly disconcerted look as she waved for the others to follow her out of the room.
Armand chuckled into her ear as he walked up beside her. “Very nice, Dr. Draconus.” A thrill moved through her at the thought of carrying the last name of Draconus, even if it was just for a few minutes. Being linked with Armand even in this small and not real way made her feel flushed.
They followed the agent in silence as she made her way down the hall to a bank of elevators. The doors opened and they entered then she pushed the button with a large B on it. The car began to descend, and they all stood in the slightly awkward silence known to elevator riders everywhere. A ding sounded and the doors opened, letting in a gust of cool air.
Agent Malone stepped off onto the bare concrete floor and strode down another hallway, not waiting to see if the others followed. Victoria allowed herself a smile. By the stiff set of the agent’s shoulders, it seemed she was not quite comfortable being down there in the lair of the dead. Little did she know she had spent the better part of the afternoon with three of the undead.
She stopped at a set of swinging doors and turned to face them, her face a blank mask. “Are you all going to come in and view the body?”
They all nodded and the agent sighed, stepping forward and leading them into the room. It was a large space with a stainless steel table in the center that had holes punched into the sides and a large drain underneath to catch the fluids from bodies as they were examined. Rows of stainless steel drawers lined each of the walls, and the only sound was the whir of the fan that stirred the chilly air.
Victoria could smell the stench of death old and new, and she watched as Agent Malone shuddered before she got her reactions under control.
“We have all the victims stored here. Which would you like to examine first?” Her face was a stone mask.
“It does not matter. I will only be needing to examine one of the bodies at this time.”
The agent looked at her curiously but shrugged as if to say The less time I have to spend down here the better. She walked purposefully over to one of the metal drawers and pulled it out, a fresh wave of frozen air obscuring the contents.
Victoria strode over, trying to exude the confidence and arrogance she had seen in the doctors of her time. As the cloud of air cleared, she pulled back the white sheet and looked down at the woman laid out in the cold drawer.
She was beautiful even in death and completely drained of blood. Her pale skin—which would have had a rosy tint in life, like roses drenched in cream—was unblemished, her features perfectly proportioned, her body lithe, as if she had been a dancer. Her long blonde hair had been tucked underneath her, and yes, she was exactly the type the countess would have targeted.
“This is Rebecca Milton, an American dancer who was touring through France performing Swan Lake. She was reported missing after opening night and her body was found on a small bridge three days after her disappearance. Here you can see the only blemishes on her body are the bitemarks and the brand.” Agent Malone stepped back and allowed Victoria to examine the body closer. Armand and Victor stood behind, giving her some privacy. She placed her face close to the girl’s flesh, already knowing what she would find. She smelled the chemicals that had been used to preserve her body, but underneath was the faint scent that made her shudder even now: the slightly spicy aroma of sage and lavender.
Victoria reared back, her eyes flashing red in the dim light of the morgue. She nodded slightly at Armand and Victor, confirming that the young girl had definitely been a victim of the countess.
Victoria turned to Agent Malone, who looked at her strangely, the whites of her eyes almost taking over the color of the irises, her face losing color.
Victoria sighed; the woman had seen. Her hindbrain had recognized a predator, and she was moving into fight-or-flight mode. Victoria took in the rigid posture, the hand that had automatically gone to her weapon. “What are you,” the agent whispered.
Using her most soothing and hypnotic voice, Victoria looked the woman in the eyes. It was the voice and stare she used when she needed to feed on humans. She did so rarely since leaving the countess, but there came a time when the blood of animals or from the local blood bank would not slake her thirst. In her own time, she would set off to Whitechapel or another disreputable part of the city and wait for a scoundrel to try to accost her then feed off of him, leaving him alive but unconscious.
“Agent Malone, you are safe. You did not see red flash in my eyes. You are just unnerved by being in the morgue, as usual.”
The agent nodded, and Victoria snatched her gaze away then settled the stern expression of Dr. Draconus back on her face.
“Agent Malone, I have seen all I need to see for now. Thank you for allowing me to view the body.”
She shook her head, looked at Victoria warily for a moment, and then smiled. “You are welcome, Dr. Draconus. Feel free to come back and examine the bodies again if you need more information. We will have them for one more week before we need to bow to the pressure of releasing them to the families.”
Victoria nodded then walked unseeing to the elevator and climbed on, wrestling with her own memories. Her brand throbbed, the twin of the ones on the corpses in the cold boxes. She resisted the urge to rub the pain away, knowing to do so would do no good. It was in her mind and happened any time she found her thoughts moving back toward those memories.
She followed Armand and Victor out to their car, stoic except for a final nod at Agent Malone. She watched as the scenery in the car whizzed by, and the two men seemed to understand her need for silence, allowing her to watch as the city disappeared and was replaced with rolling hills. They passed fields of lavender, the scent spicy and strong, the purple flowers waving in the slight breeze. Victoria watched as the landscape slipped by and let it place her in a kind of trance, keeping the thoughts and memories of her past at bay. They drove for what felt like a long time and just a moment at the same time.
Chapter 14
Armand slowed and pulled onto a long dusty drive, red dirt billowing up behind the car as it glided forward. Long rows of vines like walls of green sprang up on either side of the car, eventually clearing to reveal the manor house.
Victoria found a reluctant smile curving her lips. It was a beautiful, white stone, three-story villa, its many windows gleaming in the sunlight.
A woman came out of the house, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist. A smile lit up her face and a stream of French tumbled out of her mouth as she greeted Armand, kissing one cheek and then another before turning to Victor. He received the same treatment, laughing as he did.
She then turned her shrewd gaze to Victoria. She was an older woman, her hands wrinkled and red from a lifetime of service. Her dark hair was streaked with silver and pinned up in a neat bun, and her plump figure gave off the homey smell of freshly baked bread.
“It has been many years since we have seen Armand, and this is the first where he has brought a woman with him. The legend passed down from the women in my family is that he does not bring his women here.”
Victoria felt a blush cross her cheeks at the woman’s bold statement.
“We are only colleagues, working on a case together,” she said as she looked at the other woman. She was human; Victoria could hear the blood rushing through her veins. She couldn’t sense any magic, but the woman appeared to know that Armand, Victor, and herself were vampires.
Sensing her unease, the woman’s weathered fac
e creased into a smile. “My family has served the monsieur for many centuries, each of use taking a blood vow to keep his secret. Yours will be safe with us as well.”
With that pronouncement, she turned back to Armand, beaming brightly, and tugged on his arm to lead him into the house, causing him to laugh.
Armand seemed more relaxed even after just a few minutes in this place. His smile seemed more genuine, and it was as if the weight of running the institute fell from his shoulders. He acted like a man did when coming home after a long absence, which Victoria assumed was the case. It was one of the tricky parts of being an immortal; you could not stay in such close proximity with humans for too long. They would start to notice that you did not age and did not eat, and if not careful, you could expose your true nature.
Armand had taken this woman’s family into his confidence, which was rare for a vampire; the family must have been quite special. She had mentioned a blood oath, but such things could be circumvented if one had the knowledge.
Victoria looked around at the beautiful scenery once again. This was his familial home where he had grown up all those centuries ago when he was still a human, before he went off to war and was turned by Victor.
She could see him in this place working the fields and coming home to his wife, eating a hearty meal, playing with his children, and then getting up the next day to do it all over again. It would suit him, this way of life. It made her wonder if this was what he planned to do when he retired from the institute, after his grand tour: spend twenty years working the fields and pretending to be human. It would not be a bad way to spend a chunk of time.
Victoria turned and walked into the house, immediately enveloped by the warmth of it. It was a place that exuded calm and comfort.
“Cher, let me take you to your room. The men have gone out to talk with the vintner, and it will give you a chance to settle in after your recent travels.”
“Thank you…?” Victoria raised an eyebrow in question.