The Renfield Syndrome

by J. A. Saare

  Beginning the dance, I lifted away and returned, slow and steady. Paine cupped my breasts, thrumming my nipples, over and over again. I groaned and tossed my head back, taking more of him. He released my breasts, traced the scars along my abdomen briefly, and finally placed his large hands on each of my hips, his fingers rough as they pressed into my skin.

  “You feel…it’s so good. So good.” He arched his back and plunged deeper into me, causing me to gasp at the sensation.

  Although I knew he wanted me to reciprocate the sentiment, I couldn’t. Rather, I gave him exactly what he wanted, a closeness and trust that came from the ultimate act of intimacy. Faster I moved, silencing him before he could say more. I didn’t think it was possible, but my body soon quickened as the broadness stretching and engulfing me hit the spot that would send me shattering to the stars.

  “Beautiful, Rhiannon.” Paine continued thrusting, causing me to gasp. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

  Rolling my hips, I closed my eyes, embracing the tingles in my belly that continued to build, growing stronger and more prominent, until I was biting my lip in an effort not to call out the name that threatened to escape. As my orgasm rolled over me, Paine called out my name and started to move beneath me, lifting his hips, until I felt the thrumming jets of coolness that told me he’d also found the true release he’d waited centuries for but had been denied for so very long.

  Sated, saddened and unable to look at the man beneath me, I rested across Paine’s chest, taking refuge in the arms that wrapped around me. Our soft breathing was the only sound in the room, but it didn’t drown out the noise that remained a constant reminder of tomorrow and what it might bring, the only thing powerful enough to send me into the bed of a man who needed reassurance and a sense of connection as much as I did.

  The unavoidable ticking of the clock.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Rhiannon?” Goose’s voice broke me from the stupor I’d found myself in ever since I’d opened my eyes and greeted the new day in Paine’s arms. “Are you all right?”

  “Just dandy.” I tried to create peppiness where none existed, but I knew Goose could, and did, see right through it. He didn’t press, which I was thankful for.

  I wasn’t ready to go there.

  Climbing from Paine’s bed—remaining silent as I dressed while he watched me with an expression of confusion and hurt—and leaving without saying goodbye was difficult enough. Especially since he kept the damned mark open between us, allowing me to feel his pain at my emotional and physical withdrawal. As a consequence, he was also able to detect my concern about ending my debt to an asshole demon before time ran out.

  “I can’t go inside with you. The spirit will recognize my presence and we won’t be able to get beyond the foyer.” Goose stood in front of the door of the large building, obviously angry he couldn’t assist me as he would have so readily in the past. “As I told you before, we haven’t been able to scratch the surface with this one. We have no idea who the entity once was, how it was killed, or why it has chosen to inhabit this place.”

  “I’ll be with her.” Jennifer moved closer to me, unwilling to leave my side. She’d sought me out after I’d left Paine’s room to shower and get my mental shit in order. When I told her to wait on me as I entered the bathroom, I found her in the exact same spot I’d left her.

  She’d been on my ass ever since.

  Goose glanced at her but didn’t say anything, his face a mask of mistrust. When he’d learned of what transpired at the club, he’d been livid, especially when he learned I’d acquired a new ally. I didn’t understand why he didn’t trust Jennifer, but all things considered, it wasn’t that important. I had other, more pressing shit to worry about.

  Victoria’s missive, delivered via Goose, arrived before I’d had a chance to eat breakfast, partake in a cup of much needed caffeine, or have the discussion Paine attempted to instigate once he was clothed and appeared from the bedroom. Victoria wanted the job done, and she wanted it done now. The house she wanted me to exorcise wasn’t a house at all, but a large duplex. To my shock, I learned the place once belonged to Joseph—the very vampire responsible for killing Disco.

  Bells handed me a large bag, forcing me to bite back my anger and resentment, along with a small pet carrier containing a sacrificial zombie cat. I tried not to look at the poor thing, knowing the fate that awaited it. Goose assured me that the animal was no longer fully aware or cognizant of what was taking place, but it didn’t make my guilt any less.

  “Everything you need is inside.”

  I nodded and took the bag and cage. Fortunately, Goose had managed to train me during my downtime, so I knew what I needed to do. Sacrament myself with the holy oil, create a circle of salt and blood, prowl the premises and provoke the beast and, God willing, place my sorry ass safely inside the sanctity of the area when the shit hit the fan. Mixing the blood with the salt created my own place in the residence—a space the entity could not enter. The confines would be the only area where I would be able to keep the fucking thing from touching me. Once there, the undead cat would become the host for the angry pestilence, something I had to destroy to officially end the spirit’s lease on the building.

  Goose stepped forward. “If you can’t do it, wait the poltergeist out in the circle. It could be hours, but whatever you do, don’t step out of the circle.”

  I cracked my neck and nodded. “No problem.”

  Hiking the bag over my shoulder, I glanced at Jennifer. If she was nervous, I couldn’t tell. I took the key Goose extended to me, examined it, and braced myself to enter the duplex. As I drew a deep breath to steady my nerves, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. To my surprise, the entire interior of the building had been gutted and the premises very much resembled a house. There was a foyer, with a living room just beyond. I’d already been given a rough breakdown of the layout. All of the bedrooms were upstairs, with the kitchen, living room and den situated on the lower floor.

  The moment I stepped past the threshold, I felt the presence of the entity, and it was staggering. Whatever remained behind in this place was something that had left traces of itself everywhere. Jennifer growled as she followed me into the large room just ahead, and when I turned to her, I noticed her dark brown eyes had taken on an amber glow.

  “You feel it too?”

  “I feel it.” Her voice had changed as well, becoming gruff.

  Goose had instructed me to create the circle in the center of the structure, meaning the living room directly ahead. As I walked into the area, I could see where he’d attempted to do the job himself. Furniture was broken and a circle of salt was spread along the dark carpet. It wasn’t those things, however, that snagged my attention. It was the residuals of the people from the past that stopped me dead in my tracks.

  Apparently I was capable of seeing the twice-dead trapped in time. Some were vampires I recognized, while others were ones I’d never been introduced to. A few lounged on the couch, while a couple vanished into the den. The undeniable pull that always came during these situations lured me toward the stairs, in the direction of the staircase—to the bedrooms.

  Shaking aside the temptation, I walked into the area I wanted to block off and Jennifer dutifully did as instructed after I told her to stand in the center. When she was in place, I rummaged through the bag and removed the container of salt.

  “Ter inter orbis, reus subsido totus, malum pessum.” Thrice around the circles bound sink all evil to the ground.

  Repeating the incantation Goose had taught me, I popped the lid and began pouring the grainy substance as I went, intentionally making my circle smaller than Goose’s. Crossing the magic wouldn’t do me any favors, especially since he’d fought the entity and lost. When I finished, I took out the knife to mark it in my blood and grinned. The blade was my all-time favorite—a butterfly knife.

  The knife whispered op
en with a deft flick of my wrist. I brought it to my hand and cut across the meaty portion of my palm. Blood dripped along the white salt on the floor, merging with it in fat drops, until I’d finished and the circle was complete. Sliding the knife into my back pocket, I returned to the bag. I removed the oil vial I’d need for the spell. Glancing at Jennifer, I noted she’d stopped growling, but I imagined if she was in a furry state, her hackles would have been raised. I stood and made my way to her, mentally preparing for what was about to transpire.

  As I painted an oily cross across her head, I warned, “No matter what happens, don’t move from the circle. Some crazy shit might go on upstairs, but I’ll make it back down here. I can’t take care of myself if I’m worried about you. Understand?” I wasn’t sure what could happen to Jennifer, even if she was stronger and more durable than me.

  My skin burned now with the desire to go upstairs, toward the person or thing my necromancy wanted me to see. I began trembling as I continued to fight the urge, very aware that soon I wouldn’t be able to deny it.

  “I don’t like this.” Jennifer’s nostrils flared, and her irises took on the same eerie glowing hue again.

  You can’t argue with the truth, so I didn’t bother. “Neither do I.”

  Before I started making my way to the heart of the house—a bedroom that waited at the top of the stairs, I removed the Browning pistol Goose had included in the bag. I knew it wouldn’t do shit against a poltergeist, but the holy water in the shells would slow it down, and the weight of the sidearm sure felt comforting in my palm. After I checked the safety and clip, I placed the gun in the crook of my back, and pressed it into my jeans.

  With one last look at Jennifer, I started making my trek to the set of stairs that were along the left wall. The carpeted slats kept my movements silent, but it didn’t really matter as each step caused the itchy sensation beneath my skin to intensify, telling me the spirit was as aware of my presence. More impressions of ghosts past were laughing as they reclined against walls, one feeding from a human who was so limp I was fairly certain she was dead.

  When I reached the top of the stairs, I hooked a right and started walking down the hall, to the room that waited at the end. The door—unlike all the others, which were a plain, dark wood—was painted blood red. Emblems were etched in black along the surface, in a language I didn’t recognize.

  I took a deep breath and reached for the glass door knob. As I turned it, I felt the burn under my skin increase as my heartbeat accelerated. The amulet warmed, and I welcomed the slow, even thrum of heat. Whatever power resided inside the charm had helped me thus far. I could only hope it would do the same now.

  The door creaked when I pushed it inward, and I braced myself for anything. I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me, and went stock still when another ghostly apparition surfaced before my eyes. It was Sonja—Joseph’s familiar and family servant—dressed in a black robe of some kind. Her head was bowed and she was seated in a black circle, chanting something I couldn’t hear. She reached for a long knife placed in front of a black wicker candle, the flame glowing unnatural gray. I watched, horrified, as she brought the edge of the knife to her elbow and began cutting downward, in a way that would ensure she would bleed out before help could arrive.

  Rivulets of vibrant red raced down her arm but she didn’t stop with the first, quickly moving to the second. The carpet in her room was white, a sharp contrast to the walls that were painted black. It was like watching a rose in bloom during the winter as her blood spread across the carpet, soaking into the floor around her, until she began tottering back and forth. She braced herself with a hand on the floor and brought the blade to her throat. I knew what was coming but couldn’t tear my eyes away as she sank the unforgiving length of metal into her windpipe, creating a river of crimson that streaked down the robe.

  She collapsed then, directly on top of the candle. The gray flame engulfed her, but there was no fire. Instead it seemed to blanket her entirely, until she was a huddled black mass beneath a dense and unrelenting fog.

  I was so immersed in the visual that I didn’t see whatever threw me with enough force to send me crashing into the far wall, through the moment imprinted in time. As soon as I hit the unforgiving surface, I reached for the gun at my back and turned to face something far more powerful than me. I’d never seen a poltergeist before, but I’d been warned by Goose that they were a grisly sight, something straight out of nightmares.

  Goose hadn’t been kidding.

  The thing was nothing more than rotted flesh, shredded muscle and a bald head with thatches of hair here and there. It was the hair that told me who haunted Joseph’s home. Only one person in the world was brave enough to pull off the Rainbow Brite look.

  “Sonja,” I whispered.

  If she heard, she didn’t give any indication. She advanced on me and I fired a round directly into her chest. In the next instant, I was thrown out of the room, into the hallway. I didn’t look to see if she was following me. I hauled ass to the stairs, ready to get her where I needed her to be. Just as I reached the top of the staircase, she grabbed my leg and sent me barreling to my stomach. The gun slipped from my hand, hit the ground, and started ricocheting off the stairs.

  “Shit,” I snarled and rolled, trying to get my balance.

  I supposed Sonja didn’t want me out of the room after all, since I felt her ghostly hand wrap around my ankle as she started to pull me in the direction we’d come from. The stairway vanished as I was dragged back inside. The bedroom door slammed shut, my ankle was released, and when I turned and lifted my head I came face to face with a woman I’d once known who had become something terrifying. She didn’t move from her place in front of the door, barring my exit. She studied me oddly, turning her head from side to side. Her once clear blue eyes were now entirely black, each with a discernible red pupil that started to dilate wide. She opened her mouth, and I cringed when I saw that most of her teeth were missing.

  “Finally, you have returned.” Her voice wasn’t really a voice at all, more of a whisper of wind that managed to form consonants and vowels.

  “What have you done, Sonja?” I didn’t bother rising to a position to defend myself. Like this, she could eat my Wheaties and then some, and I wasn’t stupid enough to provoke her.

  She smiled, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. “I have finally been given my boon for an eternity in living hell—your arrival.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Understand?” She cackled, the sound like scattered branches flittering against a window. “Of course you don’t. I didn’t expect you would.”

  Growling and clawing came from the other side of the door, and I knew Jennifer had foolishly ignored my wishes. Sonja didn’t seem disturbed by it. Instead she turned, waved her hand, and the door started to glow, as if it was burning. The clawing immediately stopped and I heard a horrible whine.

  “Don’t worry,” Sonja said as she advanced on me. “She won’t be bothering us. Not until we’ve had the opportunity to talk. You have things to set right, and I’m here to make sure that happens. It’s the only reason I was willing to sell my soul.”

  I couldn’t mask my disgust when she took a seat right in front of me, her decaying body worse than that of any dead person I’d happened upon in my life. To her credit, she took my revulsion in stride.

  “Not looking as good as I once did, am I? That’s what happens when you die and you give your flesh over to demons to devour. That’s what they like most, you know—fresh flesh and blood.” Her eyes drifted to my cut hand that had slowly started mending, and I pulled it into my chest. That angered her, and she actually snarled. “I do not partake of the flesh. If I did, I would end my time here and finally descend into Hell itself.”

  “What do you want?” It was obvious she’d planned this, although I had no idea why.

  “Vengeance,” she stated matter-of-factly
. “A righting of a wrong. A chance to make things the way they should be, not the abyss the world has now become.”

  “I don’t see how I can help you there. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m up to my neck in royally fucked up at the moment.”

  “Oh, but you can.” She moved closer and pointed at my chest, her finger aimed directly at the area shielding the amulet from view. “You have everything you need to turn back the clock, to ensure things occur in a way that won’t bring forth an unnatural balance.”

  My heart was pounding, palms sweaty, hope causing me to throw caution to the wind. “What do you mean, turn back the clock?”

  “I have a present for you, Rhiannon. Something that can put an end to the predicament in which we find ourselves. But you have to be willing to make a sacrifice in order to do it. Nothing worth having comes without a price.”

  There was no hesitation. “Tell me.”

  “When Gabriel died, and I learned what had transpired, I started doing research. You see, the vampires who cornered Joseph into killing Gabriel were those he knew better than to cross, those born of vampires far stronger and deadlier than those made. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “Half-demons.” It was an easy guess, since they now ruled the world.

  “It was Victoria DelCrux who set things in motion.” Sonja’s black eyes narrowed, and I could see her teeth grinding together through her shredded lips. “She needed control of one of the most powerful cities to begin her plan. Once Gabriel was gone, she knew there would be nothing to stop her.”

  “Why Gabriel?” I shook my head, attempting to piece the puzzle together. “Was it because he ruled New York?”

  “You were always foolish.” She snorted. “Gabriel is the child of a vampire who was sired by a half-demon. Had Graham Tavish attempted to destroy Gabriel, Gabriel’s maker would have sought retribution, and when he did, his sire would have come to his aid.”