Blood Groove

by Alex Bledsoe

  He looked vaguely regretful. “The time for decision is past.”

  Another flash, much brighter and more intense, flared through the window. The muffled whump of an explosion rattled the glass, and she heard other residents moving around and opening doors.

  “Oh, God,” Danielle said softly. Wine splashed on the floor as her hand began to shake. “Oh, sweet Jesus, Leslie . . .” She leaned on the kitchen counter and, through the little window over the sink, saw the reflected orange glow of something burning around the building’s corner. In the parking lot.

  “And now to your report,” Zginski said.

  Before she could answer, someone knocked on her door. Startled, she dropped the wineglass into the sink. The police couldn’t be here already, could they? Perhaps one of her neighbors had come to alert her to the fire.

  Zginski calmly held up a hand. “I believe this will be my associates. I took the liberty of inviting them to hear your findings, as they have as much interest as I.”

  He opened the door. Mark entered, followed by Fauvette, Olive, and Leonardo. Zginski shut the door behind them and said, “Welcome, my friends.”

  “We his friends now,” Leonardo muttered to Olive.

  “There’s a car on fire in the parking lot,” Mark said. “And your girl chauffeur is out there with the crowd watching it.”

  “Yes, I know,” Zginski said. “Your arrival is timely. Dr. Roseberry was just about to share her findings with me.”

  Danielle remained frozen at the sink. Even after everything these monsters had done to her, this felt like the greatest violation of all. The whole ghastly assault had occurred in their space, but now they were here, in her home. She felt fresh disgust and fury.

  She stared at Mark. “You.”

  He smiled a little uncomfortably. “Uh . . . hi.”

  Her gaze shifted to Olive. “And you.”

  “What you eyeballing me for?” Olive said with a defiant head bob.

  “What you . . . creatures . . . did to me . . .” Danielle spat.

  “I know,” Mark said. “Listen, believe it or not, I’m real sorry about what happened at the cemetery.”

  “ ‘Sorry’?” she repeated. “Sorry?” Suddenly she ran at him, brandishing a Ginsu knife from the rack beside the sink.

  “Actually, yeah,” he said wearily, calmly catching her wrist and twisting until the pain made her drop the knife.

  “Manners, Dr. Roseberry,” Zginski said smoothly. “He is your guest.” He took her hand and pulled her away from Mark. Leonardo emitted a sharp “huh” of amusement.

  Danielle said nothing, but her glare took in Fauvette, who looked away; then Leonardo, whose expression was unreadable; and finally Olive again. “I swear to God,” Danielle snarled, “if any of you touch me again—”

  “Spare us,” Zginski said coldly. “Any one of us can kill you with the effort it would take you to swat a fly. Or reduce you to the same quivering helplessness you felt before, and draw the life from you slowly. Would you prefer that?”

  She looked down, defeated. “No.”

  “Good. Now. What can you tell us about the gray powder?”

  She walked back into the kitchen, got a fresh glass, and poured some more wine. “Well, without going into a lot of technical detail, I can tell you that most of it is made of cremated human bodies. The ash is ground into powder which makes it heavier.”

  “Really?” Zginski said, surprised.

  She nodded. “But there were some other trace elements I couldn’t identify right away. Organic preservatives, of a very specific type.”

  “Which means what?” Mark prompted.

  She raised her glass in a mock salute. “Well, my blood-sucking friends, it means whoever manufactured this powder made it from cremated Egyptian mummies.”

  CHAPTER 25

  AFTER A MOMENT of silence Zginski repeated, “Mummies?”

  Danielle nodded. “I studied them in school. The Egyptians were some of the finest embalmers in history. Their compounds keep corpses intact for thousands of years.”

  For the first time since any of them, human or vampire, had known Zginski, he seemed genuinely at a loss. “Is it . . . are you absolutely certain?”

  “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’,” Danielle said sarcastically. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “So how come powdered mummy dust makes us not want blood?” Mark asked.

  “It does what?” Danielle said. “You mean you eat this stuff?”

  “It has the effect of eliminating our immediate need to consume blood,” Zginski said. “There are, unfortunately, undesirable side effects.”

  “Always are,” Danielle said dryly. “And I’m sorry, I only know about dead people who have the courtesy to stop moving. I don’t know anything about how you people work internally.”

  “Is there any other possible use for such powder?” Zginski asked.

  She shrugged. “Maybe as fertilizer. But it wouldn’t be very good.”

  “Then somebody made it specifically to fuck with us,” Leonardo said. “Maybe the FBI, like they did black folks about ten years ago. Started selling heroin in the ghetto to keep us quiet.”

  “Oh, the FBI wants to get vampires hooked so we won’t have a revolution?” Olive said. “That’s just dumb. How we gonna revolt when we drop dead every morning?”

  Zginski shook his head and paced to the patio doors. Now the red lights of a fire truck swept across the trees, and he heard the crowd gathered around the burning car on the building’s opposite side.

  He could not rationalize Danielle’s findings. Mummies had been around for millennia, yet he’d never heard of them used in this way. As the Negro said, someone had to be manufacturing the powder with this particular effect in mind. This mysterious pharmacist evidently knew a great deal about vampires, including their physiognomy. Even Zginski didn’t know much about that, because vampires never needed medical attention, and thus never visited doctors. And no one could acquire that sort of knowledge, unless—

  “It must be another vampire,” Zginski blurted as the thought hit him. “It is the only explanation. What other vampires do you know of in this city?”

  “I’ve been here the longest,” Fauvette said, “and I’ve never seen anyone other than us.”

  “These others may not be as unconcerned with detection as you are,” Zginski said. “Most vampires wish to remain unknown even to others of our kind. Our power works best in isolation; when we join together, we attract too much attention.”

  “He mean us,” Leonardo said to Olive, making sure everyone else heard. “We cramping his style.”

  “Hey, I dig attention,” Olive said.

  Zginski ignored them. “If only we knew where your friend Toddy initially acquired that powder. That would give us a starting point.”

  “Yeah, well, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” Danielle said. She was bone-tired, and the wine had cut through her tension just enough to let her really feel it. “So now that you’ve done my favor and I’ve done yours, why don’t you folks get out of my apartment and leave me alone with my hysterics, okay?” The memory of Leslie’s tear-stained face kept floating before her.

  Zginski turned and scrutinized her. “Yes . . . you kept your part of our bargain.”

  “Thanks. If I ever open my own practice, I’ll call for an endorsement.”

  “But we may not be done with you.”

  Fear chilled Danielle from her spine to her heart. “Yes, you are,” she said, but it didn’t come out with nearly the force she intended. “Now leave.”

  “No, Dr. Roseberry. As this substance and its effects are complete unknowns to me, your medical training may again prove valuable. I may need to summon you at a moment’s notice.” He fixed his eyes on her. “Come to me.”

  “No, no more,” she said in rage and horror, but the same sexual compulsion that immobilized her before rose inside her. Her heart pounded, her knees grew weak and her body wet and quivery. This time it was even more powerfu
l, and made the feelings Mark and Leonardo conjured in her seem mere shadows of lust. A soft “Oh!” escaped her clenched teeth.

  She grabbed the back of the couch for support, grateful for any physical barrier, however slight, between herself and Zginski. “Stop it,” she hissed, and summoned all her willpower. “Stop it, no more, just stop it—” But her body surged toward him seemingly on its own, and her hands slipped from the couch as she rushed into his arms.

  Touching him did nothing to ease the desire she felt, though; it quickened it, made it even hotter and more raw. She clung to his shoulders to keep from falling.

  Zginski held out his left hand and, with the nail of his right index finger, cut a deep slice into it. Dark fluid oozed out, thicker than human blood. He held the hand out to Danielle, the liquid slowly pooling in his palm.

  She gently cupped his hand with her own, and a tingle of something humiliating and delicious shot through her as their skin touched. Her whole body trembled with resistance, but she was losing, and she shuddered with anticipation as she delicately brought the oozing wound up to meet her lips.

  “This isn’t right,” Mark muttered.

  “Don’t get involved, please,” Fauvette whispered.

  “Screw it, this isn’t right,” Mark repeated, and put a hand on Zginski’s arm. “Whoa, wait a second, here.”

  Zginski blinked, his concentration broken, and Danielle felt a rush of relief, followed by a wave of nausea. She stumbled away from him and grabbed the couch again for support. The intensity of the emotions he called up in her, and the willpower it took her to fight even for those few moments, nearly exhausted her, and their sudden cessation left her disoriented. The odor of his ancient, rancid blood churned what little remained in her stomach.

  Zginski whirled on Mark. “How dare you!” he snarled, his voice a whisper.

  Mark was not intimidated. “Look, don’t you think she’s been through enough? You got that other girl outside on your leash, just leave this one alone.”

  Zginski grabbed Mark and rammed him into the nearest wall so hard the plaster cracked. Pictures fell all over the apartment. Then he yanked Mark down until the taller man was on his eye level. “These mortal beings are nothing to us. The death of any of them should affect us no more than the sight of someone’s mongrel dead along your roadways. We use and discard them as we do any of our inferiors.”

  Mark slapped Zginski’s hands away, and blood splattered the wall from the wound on his palm. “Yeah, well, wake up and smell the diesel, blue blood, ’cause this is the twentieth century and you’re not in a position to act like damn royalty.” Then Mark rose to his full height. “And if you ever touch me again, you’ll wish you were still back across the pond, or wherever the hell it is you come from.”

  Fauvette and the others stared; it was wholly out of character for Mark to lose his temper. For a moment it seemed Zginski would press the issue, but he closed his eyes, seemed to sink inward as he calmed, and then turned to the group.

  “I apologize,” he said flatly. It was impossible to tell if he was sincere. “I sometimes forget how much time has passed, and how much things have changed.” He turned to Danielle. “My apologies, Dr. Roseberry. You have indeed honored your agreement, and I thank you.” He pulled a white silk handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his palm. The cut would, of course, be gone by tomorrow. “We have completed our business here,” he said to the others.

  “Completed, hell,” Leonardo said. “We still don’t know where Toddy got that shit. We supposed to run around town looking for some vampire pusher?”

  Before Zginski could reply, Olive volunteered, “I know where he got it.”

  Everyone looked at her. “You do?” Mark repeated.

  “Sure enough I do,” she said coyly. “Toddy used to tell me stuff he never told nobody else. Most of it was dumb-cracker talk, but that don’t mean I didn’t pay attention.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something?” Zginski said tightly.

  She shrugged dramatically. “Because none of you ’nilla wafers asked me.”

  Mark rubbed his forehead. With weary contriteness he said, “That was thoughtless of us, Olive. I’m real sorry. Where does the gray powder come from?”

  Olive smiled, looked up at the ceiling, and clutched her hands under her chin. “From the stars above, baby.” Then she batted her eyes and hummed an off-key rendition of Also Sprach Zarathustra.

  “What does that mean?” Mark asked.

  “You just keep that to yourself for now,” Leonardo said suddenly. “It’s almost dawn, and I want to make sure we don’t get left to burn up in the daylight.” He looked at Zginski as he spoke to Olive. “Fella figures he got no more use for somebody, he might not take very good care of them.”

  Zginski smiled. “Very well. I do not wish to cause dissent. We will continue this conversation tonight, when no one feels pressed for time.”

  Fauvette started to say something, but thought better of it. There was enough tension in the room. Waiting one more day wouldn’t hurt anything.

  They emerged from the building into a madhouse of flashing lights, screeching horns, and murmuring voices. Almost all the apartment building’s residents, many in robes and pajamas, watched as the fire department continued to soak the burnt-out wreckage of Leslie’s car. An ambulance drove away with the bodies, lights twirling but sirens silent. The night was humid, and the sky overhead shone with stars past the city lights’ haze.

  Lee Ann stood beside the fire truck watching the blasé firemen hold the hose steady. Water stood two inches deep beneath the car, overwhelming the few storm drains around the parking lot. It was lucky, she thought, that this car had been parked far enough away from everyone else so none of the other cars caught fire, too.

  She stared at the uniformed police officers, and especially the one older man in a rumpled suit who looked so sad and kind. Surely if she approached him and told him she was being held against her will, he would help her. Zginski couldn’t overpower all of them and drag her away, could he?

  Then she turned, saw the others as they came out of the building, and ran to Zginski as if she might leap into his arms. At the last second, seeing his expression, she skidded to a stop and stood beside him, head down and hands clasped. “Did you do that?” she asked demurely, nodding toward the car.

  “Why would you think so?”

  “Lightning came out of nowhere. The storm lasted about a minute. Like it was brought here just to blow up that car.” She raised her eyes to his. “That’s what I told the police happened, because it’s true. I answered all their questions honestly, just like you said. Now please, tell me: can you do that?”

  He smiled. “That would make me very powerful, wouldn’t it? And I would need replenishment after expending so much energy, wouldn’t I?”

  She gasped a little as the implications, and his power, took hold of her. She could feel his weakness, although he was still plenty strong enough to incapacitate her will. But a stronger woman might be able to resist him at this level. Maybe.

  He put his arm around her shoulders. Grateful for the implied permission to touch him, she snuggled into the embrace, trying not to whine or whimper at the base need he had called up in her. “We have many things to discuss, Lee Ann. And we will need your help.”

  “Sure,” she said, lacing her fingers together around him. He was cold as always, but she was hot enough for them both.

  “We should get out of here,” Mark said quietly. “We don’t want to attract that attention you talked about.”

  “Very true. Lee Ann, come with us. We will attend to your vehicle later.”

  Zginski opened the hatch over the tailgate and gestured for Lee Ann to climb in. He followed her, and after a glance from him, Fauvette joined them. Mark scowled as he got into the driver’s seat, while Olive and Leonardo piled in beside him. He headed back toward the warehouse, the thin light on the eastern horizon already stinging his eyes.

  CHAPTER 26

>   LEE ANN SAT cross-legged with her back to the cab. Fauvette reclined against one side, her arm across a wheel well. Zginski knelt before Lee Ann and looked into her eyes, his fingertips brushing her cheek. The engine was loud in the hot, confined space.

  “You have done very well,” he said. “I am impressed with your resourcefulness.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she noticed the bloody handkerchief in his hand. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

  “It is nothing,” he said. “It will be gone once I have rested.” He ran his thumb over her lips. “Your concern is appreciated, however. And will be properly rewarded.”

  As if responding to an unspoken signal, she began to undress. Her movements were awkward in the tight camper, made more so by Mark’s mad driving to beat the sunlight, but in moments she was nude. She spread her clothes over the truck bed’s metal ridges and lay down on her back, her toes toward the tailgate. Then she raised the leg on which Zginski had fed before, exposing his scab-covered bite marks. All the while her eyes never left him.

  Zginski smiled at her compliance. “Beautiful. But do not forget our friend.”

  Lee Ann obligingly turned her face away from Fauvette, displaying her earlier neck bite.

  “Do you like her this way?” Fauvette said. “All passive and weak?”

  “I prefer order. She knows her role. That makes it easier for everyone.”

  “Not for her.”

  “I don’t mind,” Lee Ann said. “Really.”

  “You do know eventually this will kill you,” Fauvette said.

  “I’m not afraid of that.”

  Fauvette scowled at Zginski. “Wonder why that is?”

  “Her fate is sealed, to use a cliché,” Zginski said. He stroked Lee Ann’s nearest breast, and she let out a long, shivering sigh. “Sympathy for her is misplaced.”

  “What about kindness?”

  The truck rattled over a particularly rough stretch of road, but Zginski stayed balanced. He ran his hand along Lee Ann’s side and raised thigh. “I am kind to her,” he said the way a man might refer to a pet. “She is in no pain.”