by Martha Woods
I turn to him. “They are very nearly children.”
“No,” he says. “The children died at the hands of a man who raped and beat them all. The children were tossed aside by a mother too afraid to stand up for her babies. Children left that human home. Adults sit before you now. Do you know where I found them, Amy? They were dirty an emaciated and huddled under a bridge together. I brought them here, allowed them space to heal and time to train. Now they are healthy and well. And powerful. If you do not wish to know their sexual habits, then allow them their privacy.”
I bite my bottom lip and glance at the triplets once more, a shiver going down my spine.
Joseph says, “To the right of the triplets is Alan, at the other end of the table is Griselle, and to his right are Lydia and Sophie.”
I nod to all of them. Alan is an older man with greying hair and a thin face. He gives an austere nod before my eyes move to Griselle. He’s a rotund man with a thick, black beard, curling, black hair, and close-set eyes.
“Welcome, ye wee witch,” he says in a thick, Scottish accent. “Ye smell like power. I canna wait to crack ye open and see what’s inside.”
My eyes go wide at this and he laughs, a full-bellied, self-amused sound.
“Shameless flirt, that one,” Joseph says. “But harmless.”
Sophie and Tina are…just women. I tilt my head, trying to sense any latent or hidden power within them, but no. They are normal, middle-aged women. Both curvy and buxom, clad in dresses with low-cut fronts, their cleavage on display like a buffet. They both look longingly at Joseph and he winks at them. One, I notice, has her hand up the other’s skirt.
“Now that you’ve been introduced,” Joseph says, “Let’s dine.”
Chapter 12
A seven-course meal is served over the course of the night. Everyone at the table seems familiar and comfortable with one another. I listen to them bicker and joke, and find myself feeling that this is some odd type of family.
As we finish a decadent dessert, Joseph asks the others to leave the room. They all give small bows and curtsies and head out, leaving me alone with the three vampires. They have not eaten, of course, but have been served fresh goblets of blood with each course.
“Why did you come tonight, Amy?” Joseph asks.
“To ask for your help,” I say.
“In unencumbering those abilities of yours, I assume,” Mika says. “I smell desperation on you, Amy. It is not an attractive scent.”
“I have to end this,” I say. “The warlock has killed four women already,” I say. “I was to be one victim, and I thwarted another’s death. He looks to take nine women in total, for his spell to be enacted.”
“And his goal?” Ivanka asks.
“He takes their womb, their blood, their life force. He has a stable of young acolytes who wish to bear his purebred offspring. A new breed of witch, more powerful and dark than any before them,” I say.
“And they will wipe our kind from the earth,” Mika finishes.
“Yes,” I say. “That is the plan.”
“And you are here because you wish us to help you stop him,” Joseph says.
I nod. “Please. I know I was…rude…before. I have come to ask your forgiveness and to ask for your help.”
“If we help you, you are ours,” Joseph says. “We are not, as Vincent said, altruistic. Not entirely. You see, all of the people about the table tonight are in our employ. Somehow, some way. We either found them or they found us, and while we shelter them, train them give them food and care, they are in debt to us. And we take payment in a variety of ways.”
“Yes,” I say. “I understand that.”
“And you are willing to make payment for the training you receive?” Joseph asks.
“I…think so,” I say. My hands are trembling in my lap. My heart beats like a drum in my chest. Everything inside of me tells me to run, to leave. I should not be agreeing to this. But I need the help. Faye has not been interested in helping me unlock my full abilities, and I don’t know anyone else who can help me.
Joseph nods and stands. He makes his way to stand behind my chair, his hands on my shoulders. As he leans in, his breath is cool and coppery.
“Let me tell you what the others pay, dear Amy,” he says in my ear. The women stare at me from across the table, their fangs extended, gazes hungry. “Thomas, Beau, and Adina are wickedly talented. Their abilities are fiery, raging, angry. They burn the wicked. And yes, they fuck each other. And we let them, because they are free beings and they do good work for us.”
I shiver again. “I don’t want to hear any more about them,” I say, swallowing, reaching for a glass of water. My throat is suddenly dry.
“Very well. Alan has been with us some seventy-five years. He was a child and he blasted his way out of a concentration camp with his magic. Ivanka found him, frightened and alone. She brought him home and we showed him how to hone his skills. He works willingly for us, and his only payment is the use of his magic when needed,” Joseph says, his hands still heavy on my shoulders.
“Griselle was a drunk,” Ivanka says. “Dying on a bar stool, letting his lovely talents go to waste.”
Mika clucks her tongue. “Couldn’t have that. He is well-employed here. His blood is delicious and he likes our attentions.”
“And the two women?” I ask, my voice raspy. “They have no powers.”
“Perceptive,” Joseph says. “They please me.”
“And each other,” Ivanka says, laughing. She reaches over and pulls Mika to her. They kiss and, once again, burning arousal blooms between my legs.
“You like watching them,” Joseph whispers. “Come watch them fuck and then we can talk about our deal.”
I feel frozen. Uncomfortably aroused. Ready to run for the door. I let myself be led to stand. Joseph takes my elbow and we walk, following the two women to the same formal living room where we met previously.
Mika’s dress has a full, short skirt with layers of tulle under the top layer of satin. She flops onto the couch, her skirts puffing up around her. Her legs spread wide, baring her naked nethers.
Ivanka wastes no time, falling to her knees, burying her face between Mika’s legs. Mika’s eyes never leave mine as Ivanka brings her to climax. I sit primly aching between my own legs as I watch.
When Ivanka pulls away, blood runs down her chin, droplets staining her pristine, white dress.
“Oh, my love,” Mika says. “Your dress is all dirty. Take it off.”
Mika unzips the ruined dress and it falls to the floor, Ivanka wearing nothing underneath. Her breasts are high and firm, pink nipples hard and perfect against her snow-white skin. Her waist is small, her hips wide. She is, indeed, a beautiful woman.
Mika uses her unholy strength to rip her own, beautiful dress from her body. She is thin with small breasts and slim hips that make her more androgynous than I could have imagined. She pulls Ivanka onto her lap, and Ivanka squeals like a girl. It is a very human sound of amusement and surprise. Fascinating.
“Mika is the only one of us who retained abilities after the transition,” Joseph says. “Obviously, vampirism comes with its own abilities, but for Ivanka and me, the trade-off was one-for-one. We retained none of the abilities we had as witches. Mika, however, was quite a bit more powerful. And willful, so my guess is she raged significantly during her transition.”
“I don’t think I understand,” I say.
“You will. She’s quite extraordinary,” he says proudly. “A real prize.”
Mika fingers Ivanka, who moans loudly, her hips writing. But as she is ready to climax, Mika pushes her away, has her lie down on the couch. She asks, “Who shall I be today, my love?”
Ivanka giggles. She says, “Vincent.”
Suddenly, Mika’s features shift. Her face becomes Vincent’s face. Her hair becomes Vincent’s hair. Her body becomes Vincent’s body. She hovers over Ivanka, who grins giddily and says, “Shove it in. Make it hard.”
Mika,
as Vincent, impales Ivanka sinking razor-sharp teeth into her lovely breasts. Ivanka cries out, her pleasure a living thing as Mika takes her without mercy.
I feel equal parts jealous and aroused. I’m rational enough to know that this is not really Vincent. I know that the women mean to try to intimidate me, to scare me somehow. It crosses my mind that if Mika can become Vincent, how will I know I am really with Vincent? But in this moment, I am enraptured by the whole scene, feeling slightly drugged by the whole evening.
Joseph, sitting to my side, leans in. He says, “May I help you climax, Amy?”
“Wh-what?” I ask, turning away from the scene ahead of me.
“You look like you are in pain. I can ease it. I will not take your blood.”
My mouth hangs open as I consider his words. I repeat, “What?”
He chuckles. “Let me finger you, Amy. If only to feel that wetness between your legs. To taste your scent on my fingers.”
“I’m not…” I stammer. “I’m with Vincent.”
“Yes, yes,” he says. “Very well, then. As I said, we do not take without consent here. So let us get on with the task at hand.”
I glance quickly at the two women. Mika is once again herself. Ivanka’s eyes are half-closed, a blissful smile on her face as Mika lovingly strokes at her taut nipples.
Back to Joseph, I say, “I need to learn. I will not be your whore. It seems you have plenty to keep you occupied in that way.”
“Unfortunate,” Joseph says. “You are a very sexual being. Be that as it may, it will be your abilities I will want most. So if we agree to assist you, then you become our weapon. Like Alan, like the triplets, like Griselle. We unlock your abilities and you do what we ask.”
“Like, what?” I ask. “Killing people?”
“If that is what we need, then yes,” he says. “Sometimes, digging into the vampire mind, as Olivia would have believed she needed you to do. The tasks may change once we know what talents you have to offer.”
“I won’t kill people,” I say firmly. “I am a police officer. I avenge murders. I am not the murderer.”
I look and see the four ghosts staring at me. The sexual haze I’ve been in lifts as I remember my purpose here.
“Amy, this is not negotiable. We help you, you help us. Deal or no deal?”
“Can we start now?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says.
I know this is a bad deal. I can already feel Vincent’s rage, but I need the help. I need the help. At least, that is what I tell myself as I say, “Deal.”
Moments later, Ilsa comes in with silk robes for Ivanka and Mika. The latter ties her robe and walks straight toward me, putting her hands on my temples.
I wasn’t ready for it.
There is white light. I can’t see. The pain is searing, like the insides of my body are on fire.
This is hell. I was wrong. There is a God and he has forsaken me. I am in hell. I am burning in an eternal pit of flames.
And there he is.
He is resplendent in his black suit. Hair cut perfectly, styled perfectly. His shoulders are broad. The women in white are on their knees. They want to be first. They want his seed. They want to bear perfect, powerful children for him.
A woman at his side, her hair long and sleek black – he tells her to go, to prepare. She bows and thanks him for the honor. She sets off, drives in silence. Stops in front of the apartment and gets out, walking to the door. She raises a hand to knock, tells the person inside that she’s lost and needs to use a phone.
The woman, overweight and smelling of cigarettes, points her to the kitchen before sitting down in front of her television.
The acolyte looks around the kitchen. Finds a pack of cigarettes. Takes them out, dusts them with a substance while intoning a spell. She returns them to the package. Takes the package and a lighter to the woman in the front room. Thanks her for letting her use the phone. Leaves the house. And waits.
Lights move quickly, flash like a car going too fast. And there she is. Another Centerfold dancer. Her police escort nowhere to be found. She trudges up the walk, unlocks the door. Finds her grandmother waiting for her.
They argue. Her grandmother told her to stop and get more cigarettes. She was tired, she says; she’ll get them tomorrow. Her grandmother, enraged, stands and shakes the now-empty package. A dagger appears. The girl screams and runs.
Caught, she falls, screaming, begging for help. Help does not come, as the dagger plunges its path into her womb.
Five victims. Four more to go.
I wake up in my own bed, slick with sweat, my hair matted to my head.
I flip on the lamp and look around; it’s still nighttime. Vincent sits on the edge of the bed.
“Vincent,” I say, surprised to see him.
“Amy,” he says, his jaw tight and ticking with rage.
Images flash in my mind. Red-haired fairy. Midnight-blue dress. Creepy, incestuous triplet teens. A shape-shifting vampire. Sex. Blood. Pain.
“I had the weirdest dream,” I say, still slightly groggy.
“Amy, you’ve been gone for three days,” Vincent says. “And that was no dream.”
“None of it?” I ask.
“No,” he answers.
I step out of bed and nearly fall, my vision fuzzy. I reach out and put a hand on the wall to steady myself. “Whoa,” I say, giving him a rueful smile.
He doesn’t smile back. The anger rolls off of him in palpable waves. Oh crap, I have pissed off the vampire.
Chapter 13
“Do you understand just how incredibly ill-advised that was, Amy?” Vincent asks.
I have retreated to the shower to wash off the remnants of all that makeup. I know I am being a total coward for not facing him head-on, but he is pissed. And let it be said that I may be stupidly brave about some things, but dealing with an angry Vincent isn’t one of them.
“Yes, Vincent, I understand,” I say.
“What did you promise them, Amy?”
“Just…to help them. With my powers. Whenever they need it,” I say, cringing.
“Do you know who they are, Amy?” he asks. “How powerful they are? Do you know that they collect people like you? They keep them like zoo animals at that house. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I say. “I met some of them. They were a motley crew, that is for sure.”
“They say that they save people,” Vincent says angrily. “They act so benevolent, like they are providing this wonderful life for these people who would have otherwise been persecuted. Those people are slaves, Amy. Slaves. And they have sold their souls. If you look under their skin, you will see nothing but blackness.”
“They all seemed perfectly happy to be there,” I say. “Some were…odd. Well, they were mostly all odd. Except for the Fae women, Ilsa. She was really lovely, actually.”
“Ilsa, the princess,” Vincent says. “Ivanka favors her, yes. She is quite lovely. But she has nowhere to go. There are few Fae remaining and there is much about them that can be sold for quite a lot of money. The only safe place for her is in a den of vampires.”
“See, they keep her safe,” I counter. I know it sounds stupid and naïve.
“They are vampires,” Vincent says. “They are not nice. They do not love. They do not do things that do not benefit them. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“And now they can use you as a weapon whenever they wish?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Why would you agree to that?” he asks.
“Because I needed help,” I say. “I am on thirty-day leave. I have a case to solve. I cannot do it unless I can unlock my abilities.”
“They own you now,” Vincent says. “They own you. Your soul. Your body. If they want you to kill, you will have to kill. If they want you to fuck, you will have to fuck.”
I’m shock still under the water. I can still feel his rage through our bond.
“I told them I would not be their whore,�
�� I say. “My body is still…yours.”
“They will take it, because if you choose to stand your ground, if you refuse to kill, they will take your body as payment. They will take you and use you, mind, body, and spirit. They will own you. And you will be black inside, too.”
“There are women dying, Vincent,” I say. “My life is spiraling out of control. I need to get things back in order. I need my job. I need to feel like me again,” I say. “I thought…I thought that understanding my power would help me get there.”
“It will take you further away,” Vincent says.
“I wish I had never discovered this world,” I answer. “I feel less and less like myself every day.”
The shower door opens. Vincent is there, naked.
He steps inside and I hold out a hand. His chest is firm and muscular. He feels real but…is he?
“Mika is a shape-shifter,” I say.
“I am aware,” he says.
“She was…you. She fucked Ivanka as you. They had me watch.”
Vincent says, “Interesting.” It’s a word of clinical curiosity, not genuine interest.
I take the bait, though. “Interesting? I mean, I guess it was, but that isn’t the word I would have chosen to describe the scene.”
“No, I imagine there are plenty of other words to describe whatever debauchery you saw. But Ivanka and I have a history, as I am sure you surmised. It is interesting that she uses Mika to fuel her desire to have that history relived.”
“I think I might be…jealous? Of that?”
“It was a very long time ago,” he says. “I am not interested.”
“I just need to know you are you,” I say. “A safe word or something.”
“Bella,” he says.
I give him a quizzical look.
“They would not know you had a dog and that her name was Bella.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“I want only to protect you, Amy,” Vincent says. “I cannot protect you from your own rash decisions.”
I laugh. “No one can.”
He leans into the water, his lips finding mine. Suddenly, all of that pent-up, sexual energy floods back between my legs. I’m wet instantly, throbbing, ready.