Instead of watching the newscast he picked up a thick, silver calligraphy pen, pulled a sheet of stationary towards him and began to write a missive he’d been thinking of for a long time.
Dearest Isadora,
I am not going to bore you with words of praise that you’ve undoubtedly already heard a thousand times over. Instead, I must say that being part of the newscast is beneath your immeasurable talents. But that is beside the point. Tonight I created another offering, another gift, to you, my love. Something to show you how special I think you are and how wonderful you make Draven’s Crossing with your presence. Those news stories that they make you do aren’t making use of your talents, as I’ve expressed before. To that end I’ve given you the unique honor of being able to cover an event that has shown how keen your instinct is and how stupid and ignorant the police of this town are. I hope you’ll find my present to your liking. I selected him especially for you. You said once in an interview that you had an affinity for men with auburn hair.
When I saw this man at the bar I knew he’d be a perfect tribute for you. You would like him, although I doubt he’d hold your interest for very long. He is rather artificial but attractive, so I won’t hold his collagen plumped lips and his gym honed body against him. I hope you’ll find him to your liking. I hope you’ll enjoy reporting the details of his life. You’ve paid so much attention to detail, making my little offerings to you seem alive and important. I appreciate that more than you know.
Until next time my love, yours,
The Ripper (I couldn’t resist using such a signature as I’m sure you’ll appreciate the humor in it.)
Abbott folded the letter and slipped it into a thick envelope, addressing it this time with a simple ball point pen and block letters to disguise his handwriting and then set it aside to be put in the mail. Isadora Jones’ segment started, and he turned up the volume. Settling back in his chair he reached for the bottle of wine he’d put out beforehand to allow it to breathe and poured himself a glass. Savoring the tangy undercurrents and smoky undertones with a hint of spice, he relished sipping Isadora Jones’ favorite wine from her personal vineyard and made himself comfortable to enjoy his favorite journalist’s latest offerings.
* * * *
Exuberance filled Ariel as she lugged the body to Lon Avenue and Lugosi Boulevard. She placed the dead man in front of a movie theater that was having a werewolf and vampire movie marathon. It was due to let out any moment. A sense of satisfaction hummed through her body at carrying out Abbott’s instructions. It was the first time he had given her such a huge task and she didn’t want to fail him. Never wanted to fail him. Ever. He’d been working so hard to find a cure for himself. So many nights in the lab, alone. She shook her head. It made her heart ache that he couldn’t trust her to help him. It was something that his creator instilled in him long ago: trust no one. That was before he’d abandoned him, like an unwanted child, leaving him in his current condition. Red hot anger burned in her stomach. Her heart ached as she thought of her poor master being so cruelly set aside. She shook her head to dislodge those thoughts. If the master didn’t want to dwell on it neither would she, even if she still felt angry about it. With a breath she looked down at the pale, unmoving body of her master’s latest interest. He had been beautiful when alive and in death he was sublime.
It hurt that Abbott hadn’t asked her to join them. They’d sounded so beautiful during the night when the master had brought him back to the mansion. She had only been able to imagine what it would have been like to be pleasured by them both. A ripple of heat slid down her spine. Her pussy filled with cream as she thought of finally, finally getting to fuck Abbott. It had been so long since he’d even given her a look of hunger or interest. He’d spent most of his time in his lab during the night and during the day he would be at the shop. She also didn’t understand his interest in Isadora Jones. Revulsion filled her as she remembered finding the photo albums filled with pictures and articles of, and by, the woman. Isadora Jones was crass, slutty and completely inappropriate. Ariel scowled. Voices floated toward her, jostling her out of her reverie.
Stop dillydallying, you have a job to do, she ordered herself. Ariel shook her head again and drew out her phone. With quick fingers she called the police hotline for the serial killer case and reported the body. He hadn’t ordered her to call the police but she felt it was her duty to carry out his work and in doing so, spreading the word of his genius. The officer on duty took her information before she cut off the call when he asked for her name a second time. Later she would get rid of the phone. For now they had to think she was a scared citizen who wanted to get home as fast as possible.
Ariel sped away from the theater just as the first few people began to trickle out of the front doors. There was a scream and shouts for someone to call the police. Sirens cut through the air at a distance. They wouldn’t find her and they certainly wouldn’t find any evidence of her on the body. She’d been careful. The body had been placed in a blind spot where the cameras couldn’t reach. The route she’d taken had been mapped out so no one would think it odd. Ariel would look like a woman supporting a drunk friend who could barely walk. She’d used a clever bit of magic for that part.
Pride surged through her at the pace with which her studies were going. Soon, she would be on par with the greatest wizards and witches there ever had been. Merlin would be a footnote in history compared to her. And perhaps Abbott would finally acknowledge, maybe even fall in love with her. She could only hope. By the time she got to her car, the police were on the scene and her work had been done. Abbott would be so pleased, she thought.
Chapter Two
ANOTHER VICTIM OF THE SERIAL KILLER FOUND!
When will the police act? - Isadora Jones, DC News Blast
Torger arrived at the office after spending half an hour at his favorite diner for a late breakfast. Even though he had fed his hunger, physically he felt sick. There was no way he could find a lead by the end of the week, not with the way things appeared. The killer had been very careful. Nothing Jackal had brought to the table during his time on the case had helped them get any closer to figuring out who was behind the murders. It felt as if he was grabbing at straws, looking at his ouster, and being voted out as Alpha of All Packs would soon follow. He let out a sigh as he settled into his seat and pulled a pile of files towards him. The murders were the only thing on the DCPD’s plate at the moment. Crime was at an all time low. The town was acting as normal as possible. The Ball was going to go on no matter what happened according to Draven, which would, of course, include the Bachelor auction.
There didn’t seem to be a bright spot ahead for him. “Might as well do my job,” he grumbled to himself, praying for a miracle of some kind. His phone rang; he hoped it was good news. Picking it up, he waited a beat before saying hello. “Torger.”
“Hey bro, just arrived at the cabin and am all settled in. Do you have any bacon? I’m dying to make myself a croissant sandwich and all I see is ham and steak,” Urban, his brother, said.
Torger groaned. “Urban, why are you here?”
“Was put on the vacation list. Apparently you can’t do seven missions back to back without a break. They thought I was turning into a zombie and here I am. Soooo the bacon?” Urban chuckled and there was the sound of clinking and large items being moved around.
Torger stifled another groan. “Look in the game freezer. There should be a huge amount there.”
“Sweet! I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Okay, I’ll call back if I need anything else. See you later.” Urban hung up before Torger could get any more details about this vacation, like how long he was actually going to stay with him.
He just prayed that Isy wouldn’t call him right now. There was nothing to say. His cell phone vibrated on his hip. Perplexed, he slipped the mobile device out of his pocket and checked his text.
“Coffee?” The number belonged to Isy.
With apprehension, he responded. “Just coff
ee?”
It was a second before the reply came. “Just coffee. Tomorrow?”
“See you then.” A sense of happiness flooded his body. Pressure lifted off of his shoulders if only for the moment. Now if only something else would go right.
A knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in.”
Detective Alyssa Santa Rosa strode into the room. She wasn’t wearing a uniform, instead a simple plaid shirt and jeans with knee high brown boots. Her shoulder-length curly hair framed a flawless mocha colored face, no makeup to distract from her sharp features. There was a serious look on her visage. Without leave, she sat down. “No one is talking down in the hotel district. I think they’re scared. Business is still good, but I think they need to be able to talk to people without the uniform forming a gap.”
Torger thought about it before giving an answer. “Okay, so you want to take a few officers in plain clothes to canvas the area? Make the residents less jumpy?”
“Yes, sir.” Her green eyes glinted with determination. “I want to bag the son of a bitch that’s threatening our town. My family is from out of town. They’re too scared to come. Not even my little sister can visit me until the killer is caught.” Her hands formed into fists.
Anger crackled off of the feline shifter in waves. Lioness musk filled the air. His wolf responded with a snort. It wanted to hunt too. With effort, he tamped down his instincts.
“Take Illych, Peters and Jackson with you. Plain clothes, badges, guns and be on alert. First sign of trouble you call it in, understand?” Torger didn’t want any heroics. If they were going to catch this guy, then they had to be careful and keep everything above board.
“Loud and clear, sir.” She rose and left the room leaving behind the scent of electricity and resolve in her wake.
Torger took that emotion and used it as initiative to get his ass in gear. He began to look through the files. Even though he’d studied them over and over again, looking at them at all angles, blowing them up and minimizing things, nothing made sense. Within five minutes, everything warped and blended together in a blur until he pushed the stack away in disgust. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried not to feel so worthless. He knew they were all trying their best, and he hoped that Alyssa would find something they may have missed, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. The killer was too damn careful, too clean.
Torger sat up. Too clean. The bodies were too damn clean. He stood up and grabbed his coat. He had to see the coroner about the type of soap that had been used as well as the clothes that the vics had been dressed in. You didn’t redress a body unless you fucked up the clothing that the bodies had been wearing in the first place. And if you screwed those up, you’d have to dump them or burn them unless the sick fuck had kept them as trophies.
He arrived at the coroner’s office just before he went off to lunch. “Hey, I need to talk about the case with you. Basically I need to discuss the clothes, the wounds and soap.”
Dr. Leopold held up a hand. “I was going to call you about that. The families are furious I haven’t released the bodies yet but I know you wanted me to do a thorough job. Can we go to Bettie’s Diner? I’m starving.”
Hope expanded in Torger’s chest. Finally! “Sure.”
They walked to the eating establishment where Torger ordered five hamburgers, with a side of fries and green salad. Dr. Leopold stared at him, and Torger felt a flush run through his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m a bit hungry. With the full moon so near, my metabolism is hyped up. So you were saying at the office?”
“Yeah,” Dr. Leopold paused to place his order before answering him. “Like I said in my first report, the bodies were too damn clean. I just got back the results of the chemical analysis. The cleaner used on the bodies is generic. You can get it at any grocery story or online. The clothes, well, they’re another story. They were washed before being put on the victims, the high end stuff not the generic stuff, so we know they can afford that since it’s available everywhere. No imbedded fibers or materials. No skins cells or DNA evidence of any kind. So it’s a bust there but the bodies, oh my goddess, the bodies are a wonder!”
Torger leaned forward, hungry for the next words out of the doctor’s mouth. He ignored the drinks that were placed in front of them and prayed they would finally have a thread to follow.
“I’d say it’s a medical marvel but I doubt what I found has anything to do with medicine. We’re dealing with a vampire of some kind,” the doctor said.
Torger opened his mouth to ask how but was cut off before he could get the words out. “The bodies are in perfect condition. I mean pristine as in they were just born. No evidence of sickness, wear and tear not even evidence of ever having had sex. With the women it was like their hymen had regrown!”
Torger ruminated over this new information and nodded. “Yes, sounds like a vamp’s work but how do you know that these victims weren’t virgins?”
Crimson flushed through Dr. Leopold’s cheeks. “I asked the families for a full medical history, including sexual. Two of the victims were married with a very active sex life. The others, I’ve been told had various lovers from what the family and friends were willing to tell me.”
“Damn, so the killer, what? Drained the bodies of their blood, gave them his or her blood and then drained that out of them?” Torger’s head began to hurt all over again. He hated listening to vampire medicine crap.
“It doesn’t take a lot of blood just, I’d say…” Dr. Leopold paused. “I’d say 140 ccs of blood will do it; depends on the strength and age of the vampire in question. I have to guess that he used an IV bag, putting his blood into it and then sticking a needle in the other person’s arm and introducing it into their system that way.” He adjusted his glasses. “There have been several tests in the recent decade involving the healing properties of vampire blood.”
“As well as shifter blood,” Torger couldn’t help but point out. The shifter community wasn’t too pleased at the way the medical community had decided to go about testing their theories; capturing shifters of all ages, locking them in cages, refusing to recognize their rights. Things hadn’t gotten better. The argument was that vampires were more human than shifters. Torger could only resist ripping out the bureaucrats’ throats when they uttered those moronic party lines. He shifted his thoughts back to what the doctor was saying. There was a vampire out there killing people, filling them with their blood, healing wounds and then dumping the bodies. It didn’t add up and he said so. “I don’t get it, if we’re dealing with a vampire, why didn’t the corpses get reanimated? The blood healed them but didn’t bring them back to life? I’ve heard of cases where the vampire in question wasn’t strong enough but even a newbie can create a newling if there’s enough juice.”
Doctor Leopold adjusted his glasses again. “Well, there is that. Maybe the vamp in question is defective?”
Torger shook his head. “Or maybe we’re dealing with someone who’s captured vampires and is using their blood to reanimate corpses. Part of this smells like a really bad military project gone horribly wrong.” Torger’s stomach churned.
The food was now cold and forgotten. It seemed like neither man was up for eating anymore. If the military was involved in this killer plot, Draven’s Crossing was well and truly fucked. The Council would capitulate as soon as the U.S government said jump. Torger sighed and waved over the waitress, he asked his order to be wrapped in a to-go bag. His mind went through all the people he had to call and talk to. First and foremost being Draven, then Jagger and then Isy. Now that they had a thread to follow, Jagger would have to ask his contacts in the government and military if they had heard of anything like that. Probably black-ops shit. As for Isy, she’d want the inside scoop on what they’d found and ask around with her own contacts. She’d keep it hush-hush, he knew that much. Draven would shit a brick, then some kittens, and then goddess only knew what when Torger told him his theory.
It was one thing to battle the Council and a serial kil
ler but government with a capital G was something else. His slight headache only grew in intensity. And on top of that, he had his brother to deal with. Torger was tempted to ask Isy for coffee now. What else could go wrong? What else would they learn?
* * * *
Muffy Evanson grabbed a pen and began to scribe the details of the emergency Tourist Board meeting. The longer the person prattled on, the more faded the ink became until she threw it down in disgust. “Hold on, let me get another pen.”
She searched for something to write with when the person uttered a sentence that made her want to shriek and curse. “I’ll just send you the details to your phone. Just be there, okay?” They hung up before she could demand why they’d insisted she write it all down. Muffy knew the reason. It was because of her name. No one seemed to be able to take her seriously with a name like Muffy. They all thought she was slow-witted and unable to grasp even the most basic factoids despite her graduating top three percentile in her class and having a degree in business and psychology. It didn’t help that she was also blond and busty. Everyone who didn’t know her spoke to her slowly with low tones and thought she was easy. On one occasion, a guy actually propositioned her in a parking lot. She’d suggested they do it right here, right now and when he dropped his pants she screamed and called 911. As the police hauled him away, it gave her great satisfaction that the guy turned out to be the son of a powerful Representative. The incident hadn’t gone over so well with her husband who felt she’d somehow shamed him by not just rebuking the guy and leaving it at that. In her opinion, men who thought women were easy needed to be taught a lesson.
[Draven's Crossing 1] Hidden Diversions Page 2