With his limp body now leaning on me, I stepped back and let go, letting the empty shell fall to the floor.
Standing over him with my hands on my hips, I rushed through various ‘interesting’ possibilities to keep the law on their toes.
To my right, against the back wall of the kitchen, sat a wooden knife block with an array of shiny handled sharp instruments nestled in it.
I clapped my hands together in glee, grabbed the biggest knife available and hacked away at his denim jeans. When I got through all the tough layers, I found myself staring at the now flaccid penis I’d had my hands wrapped around minutes ago.
I whistled a tune as I made my precise cuts to free his member from his loins.
As I reached the crescendo of the tune I was whistling, which happened to be ‘Twisted Nerve,’ I took his sausage shaped chunk of flesh and stuffed it in his open mouth.
Lovely.
To add an artistic touch, I ran my right palm over the tattoo on my left arm, bringing to life a vibrant purple rose.
I picked it up, shoved it down the urinary tract of his penis and left him to rest in peace.
Excellent first job.
Chapter Six
Detective Chief Inspector Spencer Phillips was a complicated fellow. At thirty years of age, he’d reached an incredible position within the Metropolitan Police and sat in a highly regarded position at none other than the world-famous Scotland Yard.
He didn’t know how he’d managed it but what he did know was that all throughout his life, he’d been blessed with uncanny luck. Even if he fell in shit, he seemed to come out smelling of roses.
His childhood had been mostly unremarkable except for the fact his father had donated his sperm in a one-night stand with his alcoholic mother who was now dying of liver failure.
Spencer spared little sympathy in his iron clad heart for Melissa Kovat. To put it bluntly, she’d been a shitty mother with little concern for anyone but herself. Now she expected Spencer to put her before him and he absolutely refused to do so. As far as he was concerned, she had made her lonely, agony ridden bed, so she could damn well lie in it.
At just over six feet tall and with a trim, athletic build, Spencer was quite easy on the eye as far as the opposite sex went. Brown hair, blue eyes, and sporting a fashionable goatee, he had no bother gaining female attention.
What he did have bother with was commitment. He wanted all the women to commit to him, but he wanted the freedom to do as he pleased, when he pleased, with whoever he pleased. Strangely, the women he’d encountered so far in his life were not too fond of his way of thinking.
Except one.
Evie Goldsmith. A tall, model-bodied brunette with alluring blue eyes and legs that reached the skies.
For some reason, Spencer couldn’t leave her be, and for some reason, Evie couldn’t leave him be either.
However, Evie was not a girl to be walked over. For every woman Spencer entertained behind Evie’s back, Evie entertained two men. Sometimes at the same time.
Spencer hated it with a passion. He wanted her to be his and no-one else’s, but Evie refused to give that right up until Spencer also made himself exclusive.
This evening, Saturday, Spencer had invited Evie to spend the night with him.
It was a rare thing for Spencer to stay in on a Saturday evening and even rarer to invite a woman to sleep over. He preferred to have his king-size bed all to himself and to not have to worry about morning breath.
However, just two weeks ago, Evie had indulged him in the details of a particularly fruitful spit-roast she’d enjoyed with two of his lower ranking colleagues.
Enraged and feeling borderline murderous at his colleague’s smug faces, Spencer had knuckled down and spent the last two weeks wooing Evie into believing this time might be ‘the time’ for them.
Imagine his fury, when halfway through undressing his sexy partner for some raunchy fun, his boss had called him, delivering the news that a serial killer had hit a small town two hours away. The details gleaned so far had proven that the local force were way out of their league with dealing with this.
He’d then spent the rest of the evening reading through the case details and researching who could help him catch such a quick and twisted killer.
Enter: Kyla Marshall.
Chapter Seven
Kyla
After Gran’s delicious lunch, I let my curiosity win out and opened the email from DCI Phillips.
I read through the case details, frowning as I tried to figure out what the link could be. With four bodies, a pattern or obvious link should be prevalent between all the victims, but there was nothing.
Other than the fact they were all in relationships.
Maxi barked at me as I pondered over this point.
“What’s up, little fella?” I said, reaching down to scratch his head. “Is that the point?”
He wagged his tail and barked again, his brown eyes twinkling with happiness.
“So the MO is they’re all committed to someone?”
Maxi barked again and jumped up my legs. I pushed him down and turned to my grandparents.
Gran stood at the kitchen worktop, busy with arranging flowers into a vase. Grandad sat opposite me, at the table, working on another Disney puzzle—this time of Beauty and the Beast.
“Look at this,” I said to Grandad, pulling up a photo of one of the victims. It was quite grisly. “Whoever did this has got some serious issues. Definitely a man hater.”
Grandad took my phone from me and raised an eyebrow as he looked at the crime scene photo of a ginger haired guy around my age. His skin was as white as milk, tinged with the grey hue of death. In his mouth was his penis, with a purple rose stuck in the end of his urethra.
“Creative,” he said, handing me my phone back. “Never seen that before.”
“It’s supernatural, for sure, isn’t it?”
Grandad looked at me, still with one eyebrow quirked up. His formidable position as Malpass, the Prince of Hell, still dominated his being. He still had his powers and if Lucifer ever called upon him, he would have to go, but he’d lived happily with my gran for nearly six decades already.
I tried to not think of what his most horrific act could have ever been. Grandad was scary and unpredictable. Whatever test Gran had survived had obviously proven their love.
“Yes, it is. I’m not going to give you the answers, Marmalade. You wanted this job so you can damn well work for the credit.”
I opened my mouth to respond but closed it again. Had I been fishing for any easy answer?
Maybe.
My desire to make a name for myself and ‘catch up’ with other experts in the field was consuming me on a daily basis.
I was trying my hardest not to use too much of my supernatural talents to aid me. After all, the cops needed an evidence trail to make anything admissible in court.
However, if this was a supernatural being, how the hell was that supposed to be handled in court?
Chapter Eight
Lina
I woke Sunday evening feeling refreshed and energised. As you may have guessed, our activities are somewhat night time based, meaning we sleep our way through the days.
It’s nothing to do with old vampire legends that we’ll burn to ash in the sun. That’s all a great big lie to help us hide in plain sight.
Arana is still sleeping but from the brief chat we had when she came in shortly after me at four a.m., we both had two delicious meals last night.
Showered and ready for more soul collecting tonight, I sit down on the plain grey sofa and flick the TV on, curious if our ‘doings’ have hit the news.
Much to my delight, our handiwork is the main news story. The news reporter babbles on about the mysterious circumstances and the ‘strange way’ two of the bodies were left.
I instantly know they’re referring to Arana’s kills. I’m curious to ask her what she did but I’ll wait until she wakes.
The screen then cha
nges and brings up the image of a very handsome man. Detective Chief Inspector Spencer Phillips is apparently the head of our case.
From the gleam in his blue eyes to the shine of his brown hair, every essence of this man intrigues me. I’m already wondering if he’s involved with someone.
I know he won’t catch us. By the time we’ve gotten our soul quota—fifty souls each, we’ll be back in Hell before he’s even gotten a sniff of where to start looking.
That doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun playing in the meantime though. When Arana wakes, I’ll detail her on my thoughts. I’m sure she’ll agree.
Chapter Nine
Arana
Twilight bathed the world by the time my eyelids fluttered open. I stretched my arms and legs and revelled in how good I felt. It’s amazing what decent nutrition can do for you.
Opening my bedroom door, I saw Lina sat on the sofa, watching some cheesy vampire show on Netflix.
“Really?” I asked, curling my top lip back in distaste.
“It’s amusing,” she replied, giggling. “Humans really do love the thought of vampires. It’s quite…tragic.”
“I feel great,” I said. “I’ve never felt this good. What about you?”
“Snap. I can’t wait to get started again tonight.” She paused the TV, stood up, and turned to face me. “I have an idea. Watch this.”
I frowned as she scrolled through the recorded programmes and pressed play on what seemed to be the news.
When the reporter jumped into life, detailing the ‘unusual murders’ that my sister and I were responsible for, a warm feeling of euphoria bloomed inside me.
It was strangely powerful, seeing my work on TV, knowing I did it, and not one of those pesky humans would ever have a clue about the truth of it.
The news reporter introduced DCI Spencer Phillips. As soon as I saw his picture, I raised my eyebrows and looked at my sister.
“He’s seriously hot,” I said. “We have to meet him.”
“I’m so glad you said that,” she replied, smiling. “I was thinking we could have a little fun with the guy leading our murder investigation.”
“Let’s not get too carried away now though. Remember we’re here for that bitch.”
Lina pursed her lips and sighed. “I know but patience is a virtue remember. We haven’t even figured out where she lives, where she works, or what her routine is. We need a plan, Arana. Going in all guns blazing won’t work with this.”
I snorted. “It would kill her.”
“You’re obviously forgetting the fact she’s an elemental witch. It’ll take a lot to bring her down. I don’t think just us will be enough.”
“So what are you saying? That you just want to leave it and let her swan around literally getting away with murder?”
“No. Calm down and think logically for a moment. Right now, we have the upper hand, the surprise factor. Thirteen weeks ago we were two pre-pubescent girls. She won’t know that we’re—” she waved a hand between us “—us.”
I chewed on the inside of my lip. I hated to admit it, but my sister had a point. “Ok. Fine, we’ll do it your way. What about hot stuff?” I jerked my thumb at the TV. “Where is he going to fit in?”
Lina shrugged her shoulders. “I haven’t decided yet. I think it’ll just be ironic if we manage to get the soul of the guy who was leading our murder case.”
“Agreed. He’ll have to come up here if he’s heading the investigation. Talk about bringing the prey to the lion.” I laughed. “And as for the bitch, I’m going to do some digging.”
Lina narrowed her eyes at me. I couldn’t work out if she was curious or worried.
She should probably be worried.
If we needed Lilith whilst we were topside, we had a simple communication method.
Every graveyard throughout the world had the capabilities—gargoyles.
The ugly stone ornaments protecting the historic architecture were keyed in to vampire blood. All we had to do was smear a drop across the top of one of their heads and Lilith would receive our urgent call.
However, there was the obvious factor of how high up the damn things were on the buildings. This meant shifting into the form of a bat.
Whilst stories of old tell of Dracula seamlessly transforming into a bat behind a flick of his cape, the reality of it is extremely different.
The base of our nature is vampiric, and of course, vampires aren’t naturally supposed to shape-shift.
However, when you’re one of Lilith’s vampires, you can.
But not without the aid of magick. Normal vampires don’t have magick. They’re just your regular, run of the mill, blood-thirsty beings.
The Lamia, though, are given magick within the first hour of being in the lair. It’s injected straight into our hearts so it’s then pumped out through the rest of our body within minutes.
I’ve never felt pain quite like that injection. Mostly because the only way of receiving it happened to be by one of Lilith’s fingernails. No, tiny little scratch for us, just a great big crescent shaped mark that hurt like hell.
The feeling that came after though was amazing. Some of the older Lamia said it’s like being drunk or being on an acid trip. Every part of me went warm, tingly, fuzzy, and I felt invincible. It was quite euphoric.
Anyway, that magick is what helps us shift into bats. The problem is shifting takes a lot of magick and the only thing that replenishes our magick is, you got it, blood.
Luckily, the graveyard wasn’t far from town so I knew I could easily head to a bar afterwards and pick up a quick bite to eat.
I wandered into the graveyard, carefully surveying my surroundings. Twilight was an eerie time. Neither light nor day, perspectives were always skewed in the odd light.
Heading around the back of the church, I was relieved to see a corner of the graveyard shaded by trees. I hid under the darkness of their shadows, closed my eyes, and relaxed into my limbs.
It took about ten seconds to change. It still felt peculiar to feel all of my bones and my skin changing, stretching, and shrinking around me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was hovering in mid-air, my arms, now wings, out to my sides as they flapped through the air.
Spotting the nearest gargoyle, I flew straight for it and sat on its eroded head. I turned my head to my side and bit my shoulder. I cursed at the sharp bite of pain but it came out as a squeak.
The blood rolled down my brown fur and finally splashed onto the rain-washed head of Lilith’s stony friend.
Seconds later, she appeared in the graveyard, in her human form. Long black spirals cascaded down her curvy figure, settling at her perfect cinched in waist. Her dark eyes scanned over the church, looking for her caller.
I flew down to meet her, changing in mid-air as I did so. I’d seen some of the older Lamia do it and fell in love with the idea. It was graceful, creepy, and beautiful. The perfect mix of what the Lamia stood for.
“Arana,” she said, holding her arms out. “Lovely to hear from you. How are you doing?”
I smiled and went to her, allowing her to embrace me. She was the closest thing we had to a mother since that day. “Marvellous. The feeds last night were delicious.”
“Well don’t shift too much and wear your magick out, honey.”
I shook my head. “I won’t. I just wanted to speak with you. Well, ask for a favour actually.”
She narrowed her eyes as her bright red lips curved upwards in a smile. “Go on.”
“You know we want our revenge. The problem is she’s an elemental witch.”
“Ah, yes. I forgot about that. How silly of me. What do you wish to know?”
“Well, first of all, how we can get near her without her realising.”
Lilith smiled. It was one of her slow, sadistic smiles that would chill the bones of any living human. “You need to speak to the goblins, my dear. They will be able to answer your questions and provide you with anything you may wish to use in your aid.”
“Goblins?”
Lilith nodded. “Nasty little critters but evil geniuses. Not to be trifled with.”
A cold chill ran down my spine, making me shudder. “And are they likely to want payment of some sort?”
“Oh yes. Be sure to have plenty of leather boots and mud pies. They are greedy creatures.”
I frowned. “Mud pies?”
She nodded. “As in earth mud, not chocolate mud. Throw some mealworms in there too. That ought to give you some brownie points.”
“Ok…and where do I find them—the goblins?”
Lilith pursed her lips and then struck a thoughtful pose, holding her chin between her right thumb and forefinger. “The closest ones to you are in the neighbouring village. Find the Worthington estate and you’ll find your goblins. Look for the most twisted trees in the dankest of places.”
I opened my mouth to reply but Lilith was already fading into nothing. She blew me a kiss before she vanished completely.
Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be solely fixed on food after all.
Chapter Ten
Kyla
Most people, late on an October Sunday night, are cuddled up in front of the TV, I’m sure.
Me, however, am in the furthest point of the Worthington estate, looking for a damn tennis ball for Maxi.
It was my own fault, I guess, for deciding to be clever and put a magick ‘spin’ on it that would carry it through the air longer for my canine buddy.
He’d disappeared after it, galloping at such a speed I was amazed he didn’t trip over his own legs.
Lazily walking in the direction he’d headed, I’d been more than puzzled when he’d come trotting back to me, his pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, and no tennis ball in sight.
Unleashing Vampires: A paranormal revenge novel (Unleashing Series Book 2) Page 3