Blood Groove

by Alex Bledsoe

  She rubbed the rag over Fauvette’s face, revealing the corpse-pale skin beneath the dirt. She made no effort to be gentle. Fauvette turned and glared at her. “He told you to take care of me,” she snapped.

  The change that came over Lee Ann was extraordinary. She looked like a child just told her parents had died. “No, please, I’m sorry,” she said urgently. “Don’t tell him, okay? You can do anything to me, you can beat me up or cuss me out or piss on me or anything, just don’t tell him.”

  Fauvette couldn’t help staring. She had seen victims aroused by vampires, but never anything like this. Somehow Zginski had inspired not only mere physical lust in Lee Ann, but something that looked, and felt, very much like love. The girl’s expression conveyed such naked emotional need that it was almost painful to see. “I won’t,” Fauvette said, and looked away.

  Lee Ann washed her with careful delicacy after that, even cleaning her toenails. She attended to her intimate parts with gentle discretion. Then she helped Fauvette to her feet and opened the drain, letting out water the color of slate. A gritty residue remained in the tub. “It’d be easier on you if we washed your hair in the shower,” she said.

  Fauvette sat on the closed toilet wrapped in a towel while they waited for the shower to warm up. Lee Ann stripped all the way, and Fauvette noticed the girl’s neck was unmarked. “Didn’t he feed on you?” she asked curiously.

  Lee Ann put one foot on the side of the tub. On the inside of her thigh, near her groin, were two small punctures that went straight into the femoral artery. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the scab over one of them.

  At the sight of the fresh bite, Fauvette suddenly felt her own hunger surge anew. She stepped into the shower, and felt Lee Ann behind her. She closed her eyes as the water cascaded over her, and stood very still while Lee Ann shampooed and rinsed her hair. She felt the girl’s hot, blood-filled nude body brush against her own, and clenched her fists to keep control. Finally the water began to grow cool, and Lee Ann said, “I think we’re done.”

  Fauvette turned to face her. “We’re not done,” she practically growled.

  Lee Ann swallowed. She blushed beneath her sea of freckles. “He s-said not to hurt me.”

  “I won’t,” Fauvette said, stroking the other woman’s face. She had not fed from a woman in years, but now the hunger, and a victim so young, beautiful, and helpless, made her ignore such considerations. “Get on your knees,” she said.

  Lee Ann knelt in the shower before her. With the now-icy water cascading down on her back, Fauvette tilted Lee Ann’s head to one side and exposed the delicious jugular.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE DIRT DRIVEWAY to the warehouse wound needlessly through the overgrown field around the building, a security measure so no one could approach unheralded. Scattered throughout the weeds were various bits of mechanical debris to disable any vehicles that tried a more direct approach.

  Mark parked the truck in the back next to the loading dock. In its heyday workers piled cotton bales and produce onto lines of eager flatbeds. Age and weather had long ago collapsed the tin overhang, and Mark had carefully arranged it to hide the truck in a deep pool of shadow. The battered vehicle itself completed its own camouflage.

  Mark turned off the ignition and watched the cavernous dock openings. He desperately wanted Fauvette to appear from the shadows, her white skin shining like ivory, with a perfectly reasonable explanation for her no-show in town. Then they could all enjoy the two victims in the camper in a vicious orgy of sanguinary consumption. But nothing moved except the wildlife that shared the warehouse with them.

  Mark opened the truck’s door and climbed out. A possum hissed at him, then scurried away into the crumbling foundation. “Fauvette?” he called.

  “She ain’t here, bro,” Leonardo said quietly as he climbed out. He patted Mark on the shoulder with genuine sympathy. “Just accept it. She went her own way tonight, like always. It don’t mean nothing. You got to stop feeling so responsible for everything. We all plenty old enough to make our own decisions about things.”

  Olive opened the window over the tailgate and peered inside. “Hello, my little giblets. Ready for the last night of your life?” She looked at the Hispanic boy and crooked her finger. He sat up and almost leaped from the truck, gazing rapturously at her. She cupped his groin and giggled.

  “Well, most of us,” Leonardo corrected.

  Danielle wanted to move, too, but that would mean disobeying her new owner, and she couldn’t do that. Owner, she thought in astonishment. The word had simply appeared in her consciousness with no forethought or choice. It certainly seemed appropriate, given how she was responding to him. Could she muster the strength of will to fight his influence?

  She looked down at her foot, barely visible in the darkness, and willed it to move forward toward the open window. If she could do that, then she could move both feet, and maybe make a break for freedom. All she had to do was move her right foot, proving she could overcome her owner’s commands.

  Nothing happened.

  All she had to do . . .

  Infinitesimally, her foot slid forward, the rubber sole squeaking softly on the metal.

  Mark suddenly appeared in the window. “C’mon,” he muttered, and she jumped to obey, scrambling over the tailgate with the same humiliating alacrity. She stood outside the truck looking at him, desperate for his attention yet terrified of receiving it. She wondered breathlessly if he would grope her as Olive had done with her captive, and the worst part was that she wanted it. She had to break this obscene hold; whatever these kids were, she knew that continuing to follow his orders would soon prove fatal.

  Olive took her young man by the hand. “Can I play with her, too?” she asked, nodding at Danielle. “She’s pretty.”

  “What? Oh. Sure,” Mark said distractedly. He turned to Danielle. “Go with Olive and do whatever she says. You’re hers as much as mine now.”

  The sensation that followed these words was almost unbearable. Danielle felt something inside her, some emotion she never knew she possessed, wrench like a cramping muscle; suddenly the fascination she felt for this boy was now shared by the pudgy black girl, and it was both disorienting and nauseating. She knew some women enjoyed sex with other women, but she had never even considered it before, let alone with a black. Now, though, she had the same physical response for Olive that she did for Mark.

  Olive knew it, too. “Ain’t that a sight,” she said with a grin; it displayed the elongated canines behind her full lips. “Come on, you two, it’s time for all of us to get better acquainted.”

  Mark shoved the door aside, and it screeched on the track where he’d bent it earlier. The full moon cast long blue rectangles on the littered floor. He immediately headed toward the stairwell that led down to the boiler room. “Don’t forget,” he called over his shoulder, “leave some for me.”

  “We won’t forget,” Leonardo assured him.

  “Forget what?” Olive asked in all seriousness.

  Mark stepped into the boiler room. “Fauvette?” No response. He opened the door to the boiler itself. Fauvette’s coffin was empty.

  He picked his way through the rubble around it, looking for some hint where she’d gone. It didn’t appear she’d taken anything in preparation for a long trip. Then again, what did a vampire truly need except a small amount of grave dirt and a place to hide from the sun? But her coffin still rested on its cinder blocks, surrounded by piles of musty, crud-covered garments.

  He noticed the dust on one particular pile of clothes had been disturbed. Finger marks were plain in the dirt and grime.

  He carefully poked under them, ignoring the protesting screech from a mouse nursing her young somewhere in the folds of fabric. He felt the loose edge of a metal plate, hooked his fingers under it, and lifted. The mouse shrieked as she and her brood tumbled through a hole in the boiler floor.

  This exposed a small cavity in the boiler bottom. He groped inside, dislodging two large roa
ches and a snake, and felt a plastic bag at the far reach of his fingers. Carefully he worked it forward until he got a good grip and pulled it out.

  The bag held some sort of gray powder, so light it left an ashlike film on the inside of the bag. Yet it was clearly granular, with a consistency somewhere between baby powder and salt.

  A dry, musty scent escaped when he unwrapped the metal tie. He sniffed carefully, intrigued by the odor, which seemed somehow both compelling and familiar. He licked his fingertip, touched it to the powder, lifted it to his tongue, and took a quick, experimental taste.

  Danielle and the boy followed Olive into the big open space of the warehouse, moving through the huge squares of moonlight on the floor. Olive danced to a nonsense tune she hummed, then stopped and looked at the two entranced victims. “Well. A pair of real beauties here, aren’t you? So let’s have a look at you.”

  She nodded at the boy. “You first. Let’s see you.”

  The boy quickly whipped off his shirt. His chest was sharply muscled, and his abdominals stood out in cut relief. He slid down his pants and underwear all at once, allowing his erection to bob free. It cast a significant shadow, and Olive’s eyes opened wide. He kicked off his shoes and socks and stood naked except for a St. Christopher medal.

  “Not bad for a white boy,” Olive said. “What you think, Leo?”

  Leonardo laughed from somewhere overhead. “Looks like my little brother on a cold day.”

  Olive turned her back to the boy and stuck out her behind. “Like this, white boy? Like a little double-dip of chocolate?”

  The boy trembled so hard that when the first drops of milky ejaculation shot forth, they fanned out in a spray in the moonlight. It wasn’t a full climax, just a hint of one, enough to madden him even more. Yet he did not move or speak, other than a low, keening whine.

  Olive slapped her hip and strutted over to where Danielle stood, similarly immobile. “I think I’d like to see them big ol’ white titties,” Olive said, and winked.

  Danielle managed to resist the command for a full second. Then she reached behind her neck, untied the halter, and let the front fall. She had never exposed her breasts anywhere this public, and the roiling mixture of shame, excitement, and fear made her nipples harden. She pulled the garment over her head and dropped it at her feet.

  Olive stepped closer and slapped lightly at Danielle’s breasts. “They ain’t so big when they’re flopping loose, are they?” she said with a laugh. “Big enough for you, Leo?”

  Leo dropped from the ceiling beside her, landing with the barest impact and making Danielle jump. He bent down and licked her closest nipple. His tongue was as cold as his touch, and she whimpered at the mix of disgust and arousal. “More than a mouthful’s a waste, isn’t that what they say?” He tousled Danielle’s hair the way he might pet a dog.

  Olive turned to the boy. “Come on over here and give these a suck, why don’t you? Then tell us what you think.”

  Oh, my God, Danielle thought, he’s going to put his mouth on me. She watched the boy approach, preceded by his erect penis; a thick droplet dangled from it and swayed when he walked. He did not look at her face at all, only her breasts, and when he was close enough he took her by the upper arms and bent his mouth to the same nipple Leo had licked. With no preliminaries he sucked it hard into his mouth, his clumsy teenage teeth painfully raking it.

  “Ahhhh!” Danielle cried, and squirmed in his grip. She watched Olive’s face scrunch up in concentration, while Leo just continued to smile. The boy did not let up, sucking hard and using his tongue with apparently all his strength. Danielle wanted to beg him to stop, beg Olive to let him stop, but she could not muster the words. She grabbed on to his wiry forearms to keep from falling over.

  “That’s enough,” Olive said at last. The boy pulled his mouth away with a pop, and Danielle cried out again. She cupped her breast with both hands, wincing at the pain. Even in the half-light, she could see the hickeylike bruise already forming.

  She had no time to recover, though. “Okay, Snow White, on your knees,” Olive said. “Show our friend a little hospitality, too.”

  Danielle’s eyes opened wide as she realized what Olive meant. She tried with all her might to speak, to resist, to say, “Hell, no.” Suddenly the whole room tilted, and her field of vision swung crazily. She thought she might be passing out from stress, but it was simply her legs obeying the girl’s command, folding and lowering her. They seemed to be completely disconnected from her conscious will, like every other part of her body. Now she was kneeling, looking up at Olive, aware that the boy’s manhood bobbed in front of her face. She wouldn’t turn to it, she wouldn’t look at it, she couldn’t possibly . . .

  She turned and looked at it. It was pale in the moonlight, and the tiny droplet still hanging from it glimmered. It came closer, and then Danielle realized it was she who was moving, leaning toward it. She clenched her teeth and pursed her lips. She wouldn’t, they couldn’t make her, it was something she’d never done, not even in college . . .

  She opened her mouth and swallowed the head of his cock.

  Olive slipped behind the boy and pressed her breasts against his back. She stood on tiptoe to lick his earlobes and whispered, “You know what I’m thinking about?”

  He shook his head.

  She ran one hand through his black hair. “I’m thinking about how I wish I could see the look on your face when I do this!”

  She bit down on the side of his neck. Her jaws crunched as they pinned his jugular against her fangs and penetrated through skin, muscle, and arterial wall.

  He cried out as the mysterious control was suddenly broken and scrambled to throw her off. In the process he kneed Danielle in the head, knocking her backward onto the floor. Olive grabbed a handful of his hair and easily pushed him down, holding him in a half-crouching position, her mouth still affixed to his throat. Thin ribbons of blood leaked out and trickled down his chest, and he screamed in loud, high-pitched wails. For an instant his eyes met Danielle’s and he screeched, “Madre Dios, por favor!”

  Danielle’s skull rang from the blow, and bits of glass cut into her bare back. She shook her head, almost gagging at the taste left in her mouth, and then realized with a start that she was no longer held by their vile influence. This was her chance.

  Olive rode the boy down to the ground until he sprawled limp and lifeless, the black girl still attached to his neck. His eyes rolled back, and he fully climaxed as he died, his erection twitching.

  Heedless of her state of undress, Danielle jumped up and ran as hard as she could for the loading dock. She could hide in the field until daybreak, and then worry about finding more clothes and getting back to town. The most important thing now was getting away from these monsters.

  With no warning Leonardo appeared in front of her, dropping from the rafters overhead and landing with barely a sound. His hand was around her throat before she even saw him move, the cold fingers like iron. “Don’t be a jive turkey, sweetheart,” he said warningly. She grabbed his arm and fought with all her strength, kicking at his knees and groin. He merely smiled.

  Olive huddled over the boy, drinking the last possible bit, until finally she released him and staggered back. She wiped the blood at her mouth with the back of her hand and tugged her tube top back into place. “Wow,” she gasped. “I love them last drops.” Then she looked around. “Hey! Where’s Snow White Titties?”

  Leonardo pushed Danielle backward until they stood beside Olive. Danielle glanced down; the boy was unmistakably dead. The only visible wounds were the two punctures at his neck, from which slight trickles ran down under the curve of his body and dripped onto the floor.

  The sight sent her into a frenzy, and she teared at Leonardo’s arm and fingers. Not until that moment did she fully admit the truth: these teenagers, these kids, were genuine blood-drinking vampires. And she was their second course for the night.

  Suddenly Olive grabbed her chin and turned her face so that she loo
ked into the black girl’s dark eyes. “Behave yourself, honky,” she said seriously.

  And with an inner scream, Danielle felt the fascination reassert itself, wrapping her in desire for this child. She whined in defeat, and when Leonardo released her she didn’t move.

  “Be right back,” Leonardo said. He grabbed the boy’s body by the ankle, dragged him to the loading dock, and kicked him over the edge. To dispose of him for good they’d drive down to the riverbank and dump him after cutting him up so it looked like he’d been caught in a propeller. He’d wash up two hundred miles downstream, partially decomposed, another John Doe corpse.

  For good measure, Leonardo drove his middle finger straight into the boy’s heart. It wasn’t as satisfying as when he did it to a white person, but that couldn’t be helped.

  He looked at the boy’s slack face in the moonlight for a long time, pondering things that once would’ve made him laugh.

  Mark stumbled up the stairwell, every step taking what seemed like an hour. He felt weird, lethargic, apathetic. He had never been drunk as a mortal; was this what it felt like? The idea of continuing to walk, even to move, filled him with both exhaustion and, oddest of all, despair. Had just the slightest touch of the gray powder done that?

  He leaned against the concrete beside the door. Despite having not fed since the inept robber at his store, he felt no desire for blood at all. This was what had killed Toddy, and probably Fauvette as well. The decay of his lovely Princess of the Night suddenly made sense: the powder erased the hunger for blood, and somehow made the very thought of feeding appalling.

  He had to warn the others. He pulled open the door and walked uncertainly into the warehouse. Olive and Leo stood around the woman from the cemetery, who was topless and understandably terrified. Distantly he recalled that she had been his victim, and they were saving her for him. Also, wasn’t she someone important, a cop or lawyer or something . . . ?