Hex and the Single Witch
Vehicle City Vampires Book One
By Roxanne Rhoads
© Roxanne Rhoads 2012
Dedicated to my family- Robert, Tim, Ari, and Robby- I love you guys more than anything. Thank you for all your love and support.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 1
Vampires strutted their stuff on a runway to Right Said Fred’s “Too Sexy.” They showcased popular fashions from the past, styles of at least two hundred years ago, along with plenty of sharp pointy fangs…some dripping blood.
What the hell was going on? I had to be dreaming. This was just too weird, even for my life.
With that thought the dream quickly drifted away, yet I still heard the music.
Where was it coming from?
My body figured it out before my brain did. I could feel myself reaching.
I cracked one eye open and realized it was my cell phone, but how the hell did Right Said Fred’s “Too Sexy” end up as my ringtone?
I managed to hit the green accept button as I further extricated myself from sleep’s firm grasp. Apparently not far enough because instead of saying hello I mumbled something along the lines of “I’m too sexy.”
An irritated male voice responded hesitantly, “Rose?”
“Mmmmm, hmmmm,” I murmured, which could have been interpreted as either a yes or no.
“Where are you?” asked the deep and rumbly male voice.
“On the catwalk,” I blurted. Sleep still clouded my brain as song lyrics danced behind my eyes and found their way out of my mouth.
“Detective Anwyn Rose, can you please step back into reality?” Uh-oh now he sounded really upset.
Shit, I sat up, smacked myself in the face rubbing the remaining sleep out of my eyes. I dropped the phone on my chest then picked it up. “Sorry, I’m here.”
“Were you asleep?” he asked.
Duh!
“Uh, yeah, seems that way,” I muttered sarcastically.
“Well, wake up sleeping beauty, I need you downtown.”
I sighed. If he needed me it meant a paranormal crime had taken place. I’d been needed a lot lately. “Okay, where?”
“Hit the bricks and you’ll see the lights and crime scene tape.”
“All right, Malone, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Make it quicker.” Then he hung up.
“Goodbye to you, too.” The clock read 12:34 A.M. Wow, I was never asleep this early. But when I go days without sleep, guess it finally catches up. I sat on my sofa with a book in my lap vaguely remembering my attempt to read, but didn’t remember anything about the book. Doubted I got very far. Sleep probably claimed me immediately.
Good news was I didn’t have to get dressed. Slid on shoes, grabbed a sweater, and glanced in the mirror on my way out. Guess I looked all right for having just awakened. My hair wasn’t too much of a mess and my makeup was still on.
I climbed in my car and headed toward downtown. What a creepy dark and foggy night.
Hmm…murder on a foggy fall night, it was becoming a common occurrence in Flint.
The murder, not the fog.
Just last weekend six people were killed in Flint; five deaths ruled homicides while the sixth was determined a suicide, committed after the man killed his wife. Flint crime rates had sky rocketed in the past several years. The number of murders in our small city seemed extreme. Most were mundane human murders, but tonight’s homicide was not or they wouldn’t have called me. Preternatural crime rates in the area had shot up to an all-time high, especially now with a fanged serial killer was on the prowl.
An involuntary shudder rippled through my body as I tried to focus on something other than death. So, I puzzled over the fog.
Unlike murder, fog came rare in Flint. The unseasonable heat and intense humidity of the day gave way to mugginess and a thick nighttime haze. Driving through the creepy clumps of swirling substance wracked my nerves. Most people never knew what lurked out there, hiding under the cover of normalcy.
I did.
I shivered. Sometimes the creep factor got to me. Like now, when I drove all alone in the middle of the night.
I sighed in relief at seeing the first of the brightly lit, wrought iron Vehicle City arches signifying the main part of downtown Flint. The lighted arches fought with the fog, pushing it away from downtown and dispelling it to the outer areas of the city.
I loved the arches; installed in 2003 as one of the first steps in revitalizing the area. They duplicated the original Vehicle City arches erected in 1899. They dressed up the city and added a welcome glow to the dark nights.
I yawned nervously, making my way deeper into downtown Flint. Police cars and multiple bright flashing sets of lights blocked off the northern part of Saginaw Street along the main strip. I pulled up behind an ambulance and stepped out onto the brick paved street.
Good thing I didn’t wear heels. This brick street had a knack for destroying them. Unlike female police detectives on television shows, I never showed up at a crime scene wearing spike heels or sexy stilettos.
Thankfully, no fog penetrated the inner area of the city. The October night was surprisingly warm and balmy, a rarity in Michigan. I’ve ridden on too many haunted hayrides over the years where I froze my butt off, even suffered through snow on Halloween more than once.
We have a Michigan saying: “Don’t like the weather? Wait fifteen minutes and it’ll change.” Didn’t really need the light sweater I tossed on, but probably would within the next couple of hours.
I followed the clues pointing me in the direction of the crime scene. I flashed my shiny FPD detective shield and P.I.T. Crew badge to the uniformed officer standing guard by the yellow tape. He glanced at my badge, glanced at me, then waved me through without a word.
After I ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, voices and sounds led me into a small, smelly alley behind one of the brick buildings lining this part of Saginaw Street. The odors of old urine and new garbage battled with the odors of blood, sex, and dark magick. I smelled the sulfurous stench of an evil spell before I ever reached the crime scene. It wafted toward me, strong and fresh.
I rounded the corner and spotted bare flesh on the grimy concrete of the alley.
My worst fear laid on the ground in front of me, another young woman dead.
Everyone stood out of the way…waiting, as if ready for me to cough up answers. No one told me anything. I needed to see things first hand, feel them so my power could tell me the truth. I don’t like to think abo
ut things too much ahead of time or it might cloud my interpretation of the visions.
No one said anything as I walked around the woman. They knew the drill. I needed to get a feel for things without anyone else’s impressions interfering. Old magick surrounded her. Dark magick. I didn’t need to touch her to feel the malice still lingering around her dead body. This indicated more than an average killing by a vampire. Normal vampires didn’t possess magick like this.
Poor woman, she didn’t deserve to be used up and left like trash in an alley. Exposed for all the world to see. One breast hung out of her torn top, bra scrunched up underneath pushing her large breast out. Her thong ripped off and discarded at her side. Her skirt pushed up around her waist, legs bent; one off kilter and to the side leaving her pretty much spread eagle. She lay wide open, her trendy Brazilian wax job leaving nothing to the imagination.
Puncture marks on her throat, combined with lack of blood, made it clear the cause of death was exsanguination. No mystery how she died.
The mystery was who killed her.
Who was this powerful vampire, filled with old magick, killing women in Flint for the past six months? And why? Why these particular women?
So far none of our leads or my “knowing” abilities had led us to a connection between them.
I took a deep breath and pushed all other thoughts out my head to focus on the scene…on the dead woman in front of me.
They must have been having sex against the wall. When he finished with her he simply dropped her and walked away. What a bastard! He used pretty much the same MO as the other murders over the past six months. He couldn’t leave any of the women with dignity in death.
The woman appeared young, no older than 25, tan, tight and pretty. This woman spent a lot of time keeping fit and taking care of herself. French manicure, nice pedicure, perfect highlights in her hair. Not a working girl. She looked much too healthy and high class to be a street walker in Flint.
“So Annie, you gonna do your thing so we can get her outta here before we are overrun with gawkers? It’s almost last call,” the detective in charge, Mike Malone, asked.
The one who woke me from my peaceful sofa slumber. He took lead detective role on all preternatural crimes, was my partner, and typical hot cop beefcake. Big, sexy as hell, with All American Guy Next Door appeal but he sometimes had the rough personality of a stray dog in heat. All cocky swagger, absolutely no tact. His idea of romance probably consisted of lighting a candle and saying, “Hey baby, wanna get busy?”
No thanks. Not even on my most desperate need for sex day…even if he transcended incredible buffness and gorgeousness. But his crude ways, the fact he was a co-worker, and pretty much my boss, made him totally off limits.
“Sure Detective Malone, if you’re ready for me.”
“Annie, baby, you know I’m always ready for you.”
See what I mean? No tact.
“That’s enough, Malone. Just ignore him, Detective Rose, and do your job. We’ve already bagged all the evidence and taken photos. She’s all yours.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
That would be Captain Conally, Police Captain of the Preternatural Investigation Team, AKA the P.I.T. Crew, here in Flint. The P.I.T. Crew was a special unit of the Flint Police Department, completely separate from the main police force. Many government officials didn’t even know what we did and the “crew” members were recruited either for their special talents, known “Otherness,” or because they showed skill in handling cases involving “Others.”
Captain Conally didn’t do much field work anymore; he usually stayed at the station keeping tabs on any crimes with possible supernatural origins, but he liked to stay up to date on what his team members were doing in the field. So he occasionally showed up at a crime scene. I think he came to most of the scenes I worked as more of a ref than in an official capacity, like he wanted to make sure I was safe.
He had been a good friend of my father’s back when they were on the force together. Ever since my dad passed, Captain Conally had been kinda a father figure to me, like a big gruff teddy bear. Some of the local cops had problems working with a witch and he acted as a buffer and a bodyguard. Thank the Goddess, too, because I really didn’t want to deal with their crap. Some of the guys just gave me the typical male/female banter and sex shit any woman might deal with in this line of work. A few cops dealt with some real deep seated issues about witches, not the guys on the P.I.T Crew—but some of the uniformed officers and regular Detectives ended up on scene before the P.I.T Crew got called in to take over, which didn’t always go over very well. Mundane humans didn’t realize something else went on right under their noses, but they heard enough rumors to tag me as a witch and that meant they didn’t like me.
Anyway, if I had to choose between their lusty animosity or the witch hating crap, I much preferred a little innocent sexual harassment over religious fanatics and zealous witch haters.
“Well then, any day now, Annie girl,” Malone said with a slight smirk.
Time for the part I really hated, touching the dead. I knelt down on the ground and placed my hand on the pretty dead woman’s arm.
Oh, Goddess. She still felt warm. Not long ago this woman had been in the prime of her life, living it up and having fun.
The emotions and images came rushing at me, so powerful it almost knocked me over, so current, so here and now. Strong tendrils of magick reached out and wrapped around me, pulling me straight into the dead girl’s vision.
He led me—no her, not me—the images blurred. I stopped fighting it and let myself be her.
He led me onto the dance floor where he seduced me completely. No man ever smelled so good or moved so erotically before, like being under a spell. I wanted him so bad. When the song ended I didn’t protest when he led me out the back door and into the alley.
It took only seconds for him to have me against the wall, kissing me, caressing me. His palms slid over me, touching everywhere, and damn could this guy kiss. I had NEVER been kissed like that before. He ripped my top with a growl and it made me tingle with desire. He pulled my breast out and cupped it in his large, warm hand. The cool air teased my nipple to erection before he sucked it between full, sensuous lips.
He suckled roughly on my nipple while his hands became busy under my skirt, bunching it up around my waist. A bit of pressure between my thighs and a slight pain against my abdomen then I heard fabric tearing. My thong lay on the dirty ground next to us, my feminine parts bared in the cool night.
His fingers slipped inside my wet, heated folds, thrusting and demanding. I wriggled against his hand, gyrating, letting him know I was so into it, but I wanted more. I reached between us for his zipper. After fumbling for a moment, I wrapped my fingers around his large cock, so hard and ready to go.
An ache took over. I couldn’t think of anything but having him inside me. He growled as he picked me up, sitting me slightly on his thighs with my back pressed firmly against the cool, brick wall. The move left me open, and with one thrust he seated his erection deep inside me.
Plunging in and out he drove me to the point of no return. Thrust after thrust left me dizzy and aching. The pleasure too much, I couldn’t take it. I moaned and screamed with pleasure and pain. Wanting it all, needing more but unsure if I could handle his forceful manner, the violent plunging of his shaft so thick and deep inside me.
He kissed me roughly, passionately, then worked his lips down my neck. Suddenly delicious piercing pain, heat slid inside my flesh, the most intimate penetration I had ever known. The world became beautiful, dark, and wondrous; fireworks went off behind my eyes. Orgasm ripped through my body...
Then nothing… Darkness. I stood outside myself. I watched the vampire withdraw his blood covered fangs and his pleasure drenched, still very hard penis. He dropped my body on the dirty ground. He zipped up his pants, stepped over my body, and walked away.
“Carrie, Carrie come here, girl.”
A light filled
the alley.
“Grandma, is that you?”
Happiness. Peace. Warmth.
Nothing.
I stood up so fast I almost toppled over.
Oh! My! Goddess! That was the most intense flash back ever. I was her, experiencing everything she did. And I must say it felt really good before she died. Never in my life had anything close to that happened to me during sex or anything else.
Her desire and the heated images made me feel a bit needy. Okay, more than a bit…a lot. Damn. I had been left with minor feelings of sexual need before, very minor, but this time, oh my…I needed some real sexual satisfaction.
Snap out of it, Anwyn, you’re here to do a job, not get off. Think about the woman that died. Get it together. That wasn’t supposed to arouse you; you were supposed to learn from it. But, damn! Her pleasure settled inside me so intense. It over-rode the fact she had died. I focused on the fact a sick bastard killed her. The vampire had killed again.
I took a deep cleansing breath and centered myself. There, better, a little anyway.
Damn, the poor thing. The killer vamp just dropped her and walked away, but at least she crossed over. So many who die quickly and tragically didn’t go into the light, but thank Goddess her grandma came to get her. At least I knew her spirit wouldn’t be hanging around. Like some of the others that died but couldn’t tell me who killed them. Their spirits just wandered aimlessly, unable to cross over.
I tried to walk, stumbled around, started to fall, and then large hands caught me. Feeling flushed, dizzy, disgusted and aroused all at the same time I really did not need someone touching me right now. Still too open, I didn’t need anyone else’s thoughts or feelings floating around in my head.
“So what’d ya see?” Malone’s hot breath tickled my neck. So close, one arm around me with his hand at my midsection, his other on my arm to keep me steady. My back rested lightly against his large, thick, muscle ripped chest. Thankfully, I didn’t get a read on anything from him personally. I never did. Somewhere along the way he must have learned how to block, of course many cops did it naturally. For that I was thankful. The last thing I wanted to see was what went on in Mike Malone’s head.
Hex and the Single Witch (Vehicle City Vampires) Page 1