Mistress of the Undead

by Isabelle Drake

  The girl was panting, by the time he stopped thrusting. His own breath was hitched and high in his lungs, his heart hammering a chaotic beat as he withdrew his now limp cock, another crack in his soul growing wider.

  “Screwing her like a pro,” Matthew said. “You’re going to really love what we have next.”

  “Going to the crypt. That’s what’s next.” Hayden backed away, started untying the girl who was beginning to move and look around. “We had a deal.” Not that Hayden had any way of forcing Matthew into doing what he’d said.

  The girl was free now, leaning against the wall and blinking.

  “Me! Me! Me!” Rachelle said, holding one bar and shaking herself.

  “Hayden, why do you want to go to the crypt anyway? Nothing going on down there.” Matthew unlocked the cage, swung the door open.

  Rachelle rushed in, tossed the vial onto the ground and started helping Hayden undo the rope. She yanked it from the beam, the small, taut body a blur of motion as she made quick work of rolling up the rope, then shoving it into the corner.

  Matthew started peeling off his leather pants. “We’ve got something for you, Hayden. It’s going to blow your mind.”

  Too late. His mind was blown already.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hurt me bad enough and you’ll feel the pain too. We’ll share the anguish.”

  “Go to the bed, Hayden.” Rachelle took one of the girl’s hands and pulled her from the cage. “Come on sweetie, you get to help too.”

  Once Hayden was certain all three of them were facing away from him, he snatched the tiny bottle from the ground.

  Rachelle had set the girl on the edge of the bed, gone to the cabinet and come back with a bottle. Hayden came out of the cage, paused by the corner of it, looking around for a place to hide the vial.

  Rachelle held a bottle forward. “Take it, Hayden. We have another job for you.”

  A shiver ran down his spine, shaking him up all over again. She couldn’t be planning, asking for, what he thought. The bottle filled with oil…

  He moved to the top of the bed and slipped the vial between the mattress and the frame.

  “What’s wrong, Hayden? Don’t know how to take orders from someone other than Mattie?”

  Hayden went to Rachelle and took the bottle. “You sure about this, Rachelle?”

  Laughing, Rachelle threw herself backwards onto the bed. “You are so sweet to worry about me now. After you introduced me to… ” she winked and pointed at Matthew.

  Getting your rocks off, living a dark fantasy, playing at being a bad girl, those were understandable. But this, giving up, going in forever, it was something else.

  Once you’re in, you’re in.

  That was the way.

  “It’s not my fault you’re a coward,” Rachelle spread her legs, then snapped them shut. “Don’t ruin our fun just because you don’t have the nerve to take the turn.”

  Do it. Like it was just that simple.

  And, he supposed, looking at her wriggling around on the bed, her arms waving upward like snakes, it was that simple.

  He pulled the cork from the bottle, tossed it to the ground.

  “Who’s going to fuck her?” he asked, a plan taking shape in the back of his mind.

  Matthew replied, “I’ll take the pussy. You take the throat.”

  “Suits me.” Hayden pointed to the thing, the girl, on the edge of the bed. “What about her?”

  “Yeah. What about me?” Her voice was husky, but the dazed look was fading. She got up and snatched the bottle of oil from Hayden.

  Good. He did not want the effects of that oil clouding his thoughts. “What about the ink?” he asked Matthew. “Who’s doing that?”

  Matthew crawled onto the bed, positioned himself between Rachelle’s legs. “No ink.”

  Wondering if he’d even get an answer, he asked, “Only for… bringing them back?”

  “A second turn,” the girl said.

  A second turn. If he found Mattie, he could bring her back. If he had some ink. And oil.

  “Oil me.” Rachelle stretched and wiggled. “It’s time.”

  The girl drizzled oil down Rachelle’s stomach, massaged it in with long sweeps. Her hands moved slowly, her fingers firm against the flesh. Hayden wanted to feel nothing as he watched the woman he’d once thought he cared about be prepared for death. No point in trying to stop her, save her. He knew what Matthew was capable of and he had himself to get out of there. And Belmont. Mattie.

  The girl was working on Rachelle’s breasts, pinching her nipples, making her sigh. The oil would start working slowly on her, the way it had worked slowly on him. Once she started to feel the sexual heat, there would be no turning back. The frenzy, the ugly lust-driven need for sex, the kind of sex that is near death, would consume her as it had consumed him.

  And then she’d be gone.

  The girl did her thighs. The bottoms of her feet. The spaces between her toes. Then applied more to her calves, thighs, covered the lips of her pussy. Matthew reached under, lifted her ass, so the girl could get the cheeks, between her legs. They set her hips back down. Rachelle’s breathing was getting quicker, her skin getting flush.

  She moaned and closed her eyes.

  Good-bye Rachelle.

  The girl went to Matthew. He held out his arm, pushed her back. “Wait.”

  She tucked the bottle into the crook of her arm and stood, staring down at Rachelle.

  The four of them sat in silence, each watching Rachelle’s skin soak up the oil, waiting for the effects to reach the maximum impact. The night was quiet too. No howling wind, no branches scratching at the roof or windows. The guards must be out front, watching the darkness seep across the snow, oozing through the trees. The cabins circling the camp, featured other scenes of use and abuse. The undead feeding off the humans. The humans giving up pieces of themselves. Unwillingly. Willingly.

  Another moan came from Rachelle and her chest was rising and falling more quickly. She turned her head, opened her mouth, started to pant.

  “Now.” Matthew waved his arm “It’s time for me.”

  The girl knelt behind Matthew, poured the oil across his shoulders, down his inked spine to his hard ass. He rose up, so she could reach up between his legs to do his cock and balls. Her hands flickered over his shaft, danced over his thighs. She applied some to his arms, moved around to coat his chest. The effect of the oil was much quicker on him. His skin was growing flush, human-like. Or at least looked human. Maybe the man was beginning to feel human too. His face softened, the hard pull of his jaw gentled. He’d been someone once. Before. Back when he lived in the world.

  But not now.

  Now he was beginning to growl, his muscles twitching beneath the newly pink skin. Rachelle too was fully transformed. Muscles flexing, nerves igniting, her whole body activated. Her mind too, must have been saturated with hunger, power and need. The girl had rubbed herself down with the residue from her palms. Her skin was ruddy, with uneven patches of red and pink, and the movement of her muscles was more like convulsions than an even roll of contractions. Her hands were on the edge of the bed, and she leaned over Rachelle, murmuring encouragements.

  “Get ready.” Matthew told Hayden. “Get your hands around her neck.”

  Hayden swung around, so he was near the top of the bed.

  “No, on the bed.” Matthew paused, backed up, then grabbed Rachelle’s legs and yanked, making space for Hayden. He got onto the bed, knelt behind Rachelle’s head then placed his hands around her slim throat.

  Like Rachelle had done with Mattie.

  Rachelle’s eyes were wild, rolling backward, then suddenly focusing. During one of the brief periods of control, she stared up at him. “I’m going to live forever, Hayden. I’m going to be someone special.”

  * * *

  That was true. Hayden looked from Matthew, now getting ready to impale her, to the newly turned girl, mesmerized by the spectacle. Special. Yes, he supposed she wou
ld be. Deadly. Dead. Tormenting. Tortured. Powerful. Ugly. Was that the definition of special?

  Her body started to shake from Matthew’s merciless thrusts. She reached for him, fingers opening and closing as she reached for his arms. Hayden redirected one of her arms, so she grabbed at the girl’s thigh. In response, the girl moved closer to the bed, spread her legs, and put Rachelle’s hand on her pussy lips. Rachelle’s fingers continued flicking, now between the folds.

  The three of them were consumed, distant and alone together, gone even though they were still very much there. Hayden reached back, found the vial. He bent over, pretended to cover Rachelle’s mouth with his own, but instead coated her lips with 23UT. Leaning back, he looked up at Matthew. “Wait. Not yet. Kiss her, Matthew.”

  He did. Not the quick, obligatory peck Hayden expected, but a gentle lingering, mouth to mouth caress. He stopped thrusting to concentrate on the kiss, giving the gesture his full attention. It was both sexy and sweet. The sort he and Rachelle had exchanged. Back then.

  After Matthew lifted his mouth and straightened, he turned his attention back to fucking the life out of her, Hayden took the vial back into his hand. Waited for the chance to coat her lips again and did. Rachelle didn’t even notice. She was too far away, too deep into her own fantasies and delusions.

  The oil had hold of Matthew too, so Hayden hardly worried about arousing the other man’s suspicion. “You too.” He called over to the girl. “Kiss her goodbye.”

  She smiled as she came over. “Or in my case, I’m kissing her hello.”

  And she did. A shorter, less sexual version of the kiss Matthew had delivered.

  How much was enough? How long did the 23UT take to work? If only Hayden had thought to ask before lifting it from McKinon’s playroom.

  “Get ready,” Matthew said between grunts.

  Hayden put his hands back on her throat. She was minutes from real death, but in actuality she was already gone.

  “Start now.” Matthew slowed his rhythm, rocking with long, gradual sweeps instead of the short thrusts. “Squeeze.”

  Hayden applied some pressure. Rachelle gagged, her arms came toward her face.

  Matthew paused, withdrew, “When she starts to come, squeeze harder. Make sure she passes out at the same time.”

  Hayden applied more pressure, got a better hold on her neck, watched her face, her body.

  “Time it wrong and she dies.” Matthew said, starting to again pick up speed. “Time it right, she lives forever.” Then he started pounding in to her, hammering in and out of her pussy, making her whole body shake.

  Soon, Rachelle moaned, stopped fighting the grip of his hands and succumbed to the spiral of pleasure tearing through her. Hayden pressed down, blocking the air from her lungs. Her body twitched, legs started to jerk, knees bending as she slid her heels up to her ass then shot them back down again. Her arms swung at her sides, fingers opening and closing, then coming shut in fists that she pressed to her chest. Still he held on, watching her face contort with a mixture of pleasure and pain, life and death. Finally, the two dimensions melded together, and she lie still, eyes unmoving, chest still.

  And then there was nothing.

  Matthew pulled his dick out, looked down at Rachelle’s chilling, rigid body. “Check it out, Hayden. I fucked her senseless.”

  Stroking Rachelle’s legs, the girl beside the bed moaned.

  “Now what?” Hayden spotted the vial beside Rachelle and scooped it up. “That it? She’s done?”

  Matthew climbed off the bed, looking down at the body, into the vacant face. He shrugged. “We wrap her up.”

  “Until?”

  He shrugged again, this time with a chuckle. “Until whenever. You have a problem with that?”

  He did, but knew his opinion didn’t mean shit. Also, he had his own problems.

  “Mmmmm.” The girl had stopped caressing Rachelle’s legs and begun leaning more heavily on the bed. “Mmmmmm… .”

  Matthew shoved her off the bed. She tumbled to the floor with a hard thump, then lay there. He tested her with a kick, she rolled onto her back. “Fucking new ones.” Then he tugged on the cover and began tucking it around Rachelle. “Wrap her up. We’ll take her to the crypt.” There was none of the anger or despair Matthew had shown when they’d turned Mattie. With Rachelle, it was just matter of fact, just another day at his camp.

  Following the other man’s motions, Hayden began folding the cover over Rachelle. Her face was the last to disappear.

  Matthew scooped her up, held her above the bed and, looking at Hayden, tipped his head toward the unmoving thing on the floor. “Stay here with her.” Laughing, he added, “If she wakes up with those eyes, you know wh—” He dropped Rachelle onto the bed, braced himself on the bedframe with one hand. “Mmmmm… .” He put his other hand on his face. “What the fu—” Then he was down, on the floor, in a heap next to the other one.

  Hayden grabbed Rachelle, then set her on the floor. Next, he picked up the girl, put her on the bed. Matthew was heavier, but still manageable. He arranged Matthew and the girl, then covered them both with what was left of the bed linens. Last thing, he set the bottle, still with a couple inches of oil, close, but not too close, to the bed. Once the stage was set, he got one of the cloaks off the hook by the doorway, threw it on, slipped into his own boots, put the vial into one of his boots, then picked up Rachelle, still wrapped in the bedcover. He slipped through the beads. They smacked behind him, the soles of his boots hitting the floorboards with increasing speed.

  Using his hip, he shoved the door open, lifted the body, and said, “Take me to the crypt.”

  One of the three guards spun, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Who the fuck are you to give us orders?”

  He lifted the body. “Matthew told me to take this to the crypt.”

  The guard stepped over, peeled the cover back to expose Rachelle’s face. “Fuck me.”

  Another guard came over, took a look. “Motherfucker. That happened fast. Wonder what’s the big deal about this one.”

  Inspiration struck. “Matthew doesn’t want to be disturbed. We turned the other one right before this one.”

  The third guard came over to look at Rachelle’s face. “What one?” he asked, poking at Rachelle’s cheek.

  “The one you had tied up out here the other day. She’s turned.” Hayden adjusted the bundle in his arms then covered Rachelle’s face. “Used almost a whole bottle.”

  The guards glanced beyond the doorway to the dark, quiet hall. “Almost?”

  Bait taken. Hayden went on, pretending he had no idea where the crypt was located. “Yeah. But now he’s out and doesn’t want to be disturbed. Him and the new one. Out. That’s why he wants me to take this,” he lifted the bundle again, “to the crypt now. Right now. Get it?”

  The guard nearest to the door pointed to the path. “He’ll get you close enough, but we can’t walk you all the way. We have to stay here, watch the front.”

  Sure, you’ll be watching the front. Right after you sneak in there and get what’s left of the oil.

  “Hey, man.,” the guard who’d been appointed tour guide said to the other two. “Don’t forget about me.”

  That earned the guy a shove accompanied with a muttered assurance that he’d get what was coming to him.

  With that, the guard started forward, Hayden followed behind.

  “What’s up with you and that girl,” the guard asked over his shoulder.

  “The new one?” Hayden asked, blinking into the icy air biting into his face.

  “No. The one you’re carrying.”

  It was then that he thought about how she’d be like when, if, they turned her a second time. “Nothing’s up with us.”

  “Don’t think that’s the truth,” the guy replied, grumbling something under his breath. “What do I care. I guess.”

  Hayden agreed, and he was starting to care even less and less.

  Interesting to know this guy wasn’t so happy w
ith the management. That could work to his advantage, especially since Belmont’s brilliant plan ended with the two of them meeting up at the crypt. It did not include a way home.

  The night was freezing cold, but still dead quiet, no wind, no snow coming from above. The only noise was the soft crunch of their feet hitting the packed down snow. Once they got past the circle of cabins, the trail grew less defined. Hayden had to work to keep up, and soon his heart started to pound from the physical effort. The puffs of breath came faster and faster, and his chest heaved. The guard was nearly jogging, probably anxious to get back and make sure he got his fair share of the oil. About the time he thought he may have to slow, the guard stopped and lifted his arm.

  “See that giant oak with the low branches? To the right of the clearing? Just past there is a fence. Follow the fence until it ends. There you’ll find a door, dug in to the side of a hill.”

  Hayden was panting, the vapor of breath making a cloud in front of him. He probably would’ve been able to find it using Belmont’s description, but he didn’t want to raise any more suspicions. “Um, Mm,” he said, shifting the bundle in his arms.

  The guard took a step away. “Try throwing it over your shoulder.” Then he began heading back, moving at a jog first before breaking out into a full run.

  The fence sagged, dipping in almost to the ground in spots, but it was a clear marker to the door which was, as the guard said, built into the side of the hill. Could have been a bunker or mine shaft. Something you’d see while out hiking and wonder about but be smart enough to walk past. Hayden, now with the bundle over his shoulder, shoved his way inside then waited for his eyes to adjust.

  The familiar, bitter scent of iron was the first thing he noticed. He listened, tried to get a sense of his surroundings. The walls were lined with boards, to keep them from caving in most likely, and the floor was packed and even. Could have been someone’s end of the world bunker. Or a farmer’s idea of a reasonable storage. Or a hideaway for human traffickers. The place gave him the creeps, but he’d expected that from Belmont’s description. He pulled in a breath, took in more of the bitter stench. Mattie’s scent. It was familiar but much, much thicker than he’d ever experienced it. The already rapid beating of his heart turned chaotic. His blood flowing through his veins, his nerves coming to life.