by Trisha Baker
Ruthlessly Simon grabbed Maggie's hair so hard her head tilted backward. Two fangs extended from Simon's mouth. As Maggie watched in horror, he bent over her extended neck and bit down hard on her jugular vein.
Maggie's body spasmed, and she heard herself scream. Oh, how it hurt! She'd never felt pain like this—a hot, stabbing sensation that was quickly replaced by a dull ache as Simon began sucking on the wound. Those sucking noises were hideous and the pain was the least of it. Maggie had never been so cold, and she could feel the strength leaving her body as Simon drank her blood.
Abruptly Simon raised his head. Nauseous and dizzy, Maggie fell against the pillows, shivering and moaning. If the cold didn't stop, she would die.
"It doesn't have to be an unpleasant experience, Meghann," Simon told her. "Look at me. Do you want me to hurt you?"
Maggie opened her eyes, and felt even worse at the sight of her blood on those unspeakable fangs. "No," she whimpered.
"No, what?" Simon asked softly.
Now Maggie remembered what she'd called him last night as he drank her blood. If she weren't so weak, she would have been disgusted with herself. With a great effort, she kept herself from saying what he wanted.
"No, what, Meghann?" he asked again as he bent his head toward her neck.
Maggie couldn't take that agony again. As his fangs began to sink into her flesh, Maggie screamed out, "No, Master! Master, please don't hurt me!"
Simon put a red handkerchief in Maggie's hand. He indicated the saliva on his face and said, "Wipe it off."
Maggie did as she was told. What was going to happen now? What did Simon have in mind for her?
When she was done, Simon put his hand over the wound in her neck. "You'll feel better now."
In a moment, Maggie did feel better. The cold, the pain, even her fear, vanished. Now that she wasn't afraid, she could think clearly.
Removing his hand, Simon sat down on the bed. He said nothing, but stared at her intently.
Maggie forced herself to ask what she feared most. "Are you going to kill me?"
Simon laughed. "Quite the opposite, my dear."
"Why are you doing this to me?" she demanded to know.
"Because we belong together," Simon told her as he leaned over and kissed her.
Why does this feel so good to me? Maggie wondered as she found herself kissing him back. I should hate him, but I crave his touch so badly. She couldn't believe how she felt, warm and eager. How could she desire this fiend? What was wrong with her?
Simon gently kissed the wounds on her neck. "Don't be afraid, my love."
Maggie didn't feel frightened when he began drinking her blood again. It felt so different this time—it was almost like making love. She felt waves of pure lust and grabbed his hair, pushing him closer to her neck. He responded by pulling her into a tight embrace. It felt incredible. Maggie wrapped her legs around him; she never wanted him to stop. There was no pain, no cold…
"No," Maggie whimpered in protest when Simon raised his head. Why does he have to stop? And why am I thinking like this? the still sane part of her asked.
Simon untangled himself from Maggie. Smiling softly, he arranged her hair to hide the marks on her neck. "It would be impolite to continue in front of company, sweet." He picked up a red cloth from the night-stand by the bed, and used it to wipe Maggie's blood from his mouth and chin.
"Company?" was all Maggie had time to say before the huge wooden door to the room crashed open.
Pauline Manchester stood in the doorway. Her hair, which had been arranged in a blue snood, was askew. The navy suit she was wearing emphasized her skinny, narrow build. Even from the bed, Maggie could smell the gin fumes emanating from her.
"You truly surprise me," Simon told her coldly. "I would not have thought you could be any less attractive—but then, I'd never seen you disheveled and intoxicated."
Pauline stumbled over to him. "Listen, you sonofabitch," she slurred. "I waited for you at the Plaza for three hours and you're here playing degenerate games with some whore." Pauline craned her neck to see past Simon, and her eyes widened when she realized who was on the bed. "Maggie! How could you do this to me? Liar! You said you were sick."
"Pauline, Simon's a monster!" Maggie screamed. "Get the hell out of here!" Waves of dizziness overcame her, and she collapsed against the pillows.
"Don't tire yourself," Simon ordered sharply. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "You didn't appear to find me monstrous a few moments ago, sweet." When he turned around, he asked Pauline, "What is wrong, my dear? Are you upset that I do not choose to play games with you? You are far too plain and spiritless for my tastes." Simon grinned at Pauline in a way that made Maggie's blood run cold. Why doesn't Pauline try to get away? I just warned her. Then Maggie saw the slightly glazed look in Pauline's eyes, and realized Simon was controlling her in some way. Dear God, Maggie thought. He can control us both like puppets—the same way he controlled Bridie, Daddy, and me last night.
"You can't talk to me that way!" Pauline cried. Simon grabbed her wrist and she screamed. "Let me go, you bastard! My mother will have you killed!"
Simon's evil, vicious laughter made both girls flinch. "Why are you here, little wren? Do you want to take Meghann's place in my bed?"
Maggie, whom Simon seemed to have forgotten about for the moment, gasped as he forced Pauline to her knees.
"Poor little rich girl," Simon said softly. "All that money, yet you are so drab. No wonder your mother has been unable to purchase a husband for you."
"Please stop," Pauline whined, squirming and trying to break his hold on her wrist.
"I have no desire to please you. And I find it amusing that you're so jealous of my Meghann."
"I'm not jealous of her," Pauline denied, tears appearing in her eyes as Simon applied more pressure to her wrist.
"Don't lie to me," Simon said in a menacing whisper. "You're jealous of her and every other pretty girl you've ever come into contact with. You can't harm the debutantes, but why don't you tell Meghann about Sara?"
"No one knows about Sara."
"I know. You won't tell Meghann? Very well, I shall. Sara was a kitchen maid. An undesirable job, but how you envied her golden blond hair and bright blue eyes. When it became too much to bear, seeing what no amount of your mother's money could ever give you, you went to your dear Mama with a tale that Sara stole your emerald earrings. Sara was fired, of course, and you, my ugly duckling, had a new ruby brooch to comfort you." Maggie heard a crack, and Pauline screamed. Her hand was in an unnatural position—Simon must have broken her wrist. He still did not let go, even with Pauline crying in pain.
Simon grabbed her injured hand tightly, and Pauline screamed in agony. "Let her go!" Maggie shouted.
"Be silent. She would never speak up on your behalf. Would you?" he asked Pauline.
"No," Pauline choked out.
"Why not?"
"I hate her!" Pauline screamed.
"Of course you do," Simon soothed. "Do you want to trade places with her?"
Pauline didn't respond, and Simon applied more pressure to her wrist. "Answer me."
"Yes, yes!" Pauline howled. "She doesn't deserve to be in bed with you—I do!"
"Then so be it," Simon said.
If Maggie weren't seeing this with her own eyes, she would never believe it. Simon had just broken her wrist, not to mention her spirit, and Pauline was looking at him with an expression near ecstasy as he bent toward her. Her happiness changed to unease when he lifted her off the floor with one hand under her chin.
When Pauline's neck was level with his mouth, Simon's fangs extended from his mouth. Pauline opened her mouth in horror as his fangs sank into her neck. She tried to push him away, but her feeble effort halted as the sucking sounds grew louder. Only when her body was completely limp and her eyes rolled into the back of her head did Simon fling her to the floor like so much garbage.
Walking over the lifeless heap that had been Pauline Manchester
, Simon stepped into the open doorway and bellowed, "Trevor!"
Within seconds, a middle-aged man appeared in the doorway. "Sir?"
"Cut her head off, then throw it in the furnace," Simon ordered. "Throw her body off the docks. If it washes up on shore, the police will assume some fiend murdered her."
Without a word or a glance at Maggie tied up on the bed, Trevor picked up Pauline's body and left the room.
Simon shut the door, and then turned to Maggie.
Before Simon could do anything, Maggie spoke up.
"Pauline wouldn't have gotten past that man unless you wanted her to."
"Correct."
"Is he a vampire too?"
"Trevor?" Simon laughed. "No, merely a devoted servant. There are far too few of them in your century."
"Why did you kill Pauline?" Maggie demanded.
"A boring business matter."
"Business?"
"Pauline's mother owns some land in England that I desire," Simon explained as he used the scarlet cloth to wipe Pauline's blood away. "She set a ridiculous price. I believe she kept dickering with me in the hope that I would become attracted to her plain albeit beloved daughter. When she finds out that Pauline's been murdered, she'll be a broken women. It will be child's play to take advantage of her grief and obtain the land."
"You killed Pauline to close a business deal?"
"Never mind," Simon said shortly. "I'd much rather discuss pleasure than business." He stroked Maggie's fiery hair.
Maggie shivered. "Do you mean it gave you pleasure to kill Pauline?"
"Killing always gives me pleasure, but I was referring to you, sweetheart. You are my pleasure. If you choose to be, Meghann."
Maggie was afraid again. "You said you're not going to kill me."
"Unless you ask me to. Will you stay with me, Meghann? Or do you want to leave this room as Pauline did?"
"Stay with you?" Maggie asked. "Do you mean you'd make me a vampire?"
"It's already started. You noticed today that you didn't cast a reflection."
"Couldn't you just let me go home?" Maggie pleaded. "I know you can make me forget tonight—like you made me forget you biting me before. Let me go home, please."
"Home?" Simon questioned. Maggie's heart stopped at the black look on his face. "I offer you eternal life… and you beg for release into a mundane existence. Perhaps I should kill you."
Maggie started crying. "Then kill me, you vile beast! I'm not Pauline… I won't beg you. If you want to kill me, then do it! I want to go home. I want my father. I wish I never met you, whatever the hell you are!"
Simon undid the restraints on her wrists. "You are free to leave."
Maggie sat up, and nearly passed out from blood loss and shock. I won't let him see me faint, she thought grimly, and struggled to put her feet on the ground. She had to lean on the nightstand to get up from the bed. Once she was standing, another dizzy spell attacked her, but she managed to stay on her feet. Now all I have to do is walk. Maggie took one step away from the nightstand, and fell on her face.
Simon picked her up and put her on the bed. He lay down and held Maggie close to him. "I admire your spirit, Meghann."
Maggie tried to push herself away from him, but she was too weak. "If you can read my thoughts, you must know I hate you."
"You don't hate me. You're confused and I frightened you. I apologize. I forget how young you are and how strange this must be to you."
"Can't you let me go?" Maggie pleaded again.
"You saw how frail you are. Meghann, if I don't complete the transformation, you'll die within a few days. Your life can never return to what it was."
Maggie knew he wasn't lying. She could feel how weak she was; she knew she was dying. "I don't want to die."
"Look at me," Simon commanded. Maggie raised her head, wincing at the pain in her neck. "What is your decision?" he asked.
I want to be with him, Maggie thought suddenly. Nothing else matters. She managed to lift up her hand and caress his face softly.
Simon put his arms around her, then kissed her fiercely. The sickness faded beside the passion Maggie felt. I have never wanted anything as much as I want him, she thought hazily.
"You're beautiful," he whispered. He ran his hands lightly across her body, fingertips barely touching her. Maggie moaned, aching with desire. Pauline had already been forgotten.
"Tell me who I am," he ordered while thrusting into her.
"My master." She didn't feel any regret or embarrassment for calling him "my master." I want to belong to him, she thought while she writhed beneath him.
"And you'll be mine forever?"
"Forever."
Simon sank his teeth deep within the wounds on her neck again. Maggie moaned, digging her nails into his back. The rapture she now felt made her prior ecstasy pale in comparison. She felt wave after wave of intense, unbearable pleasure as he drained the blood from her. Maggie felt him growing harder within her as he drank her blood. It seemed to go on forever, making love while he drank her blood. She didn't want it to ever stop.
They climaxed together and Simon withdrew from her. He raised his wrist to his fangs and bit down. When the blood appeared, he held his wrist to Maggie's lips and told her to drink it.
Maggie drank deeply, then gagged. It tasted horrible, like vinegar and some indefinable sour taste. When Simon pulled his wrist away, she felt the sickness return—ten times stronger than it had been before.
Simon put the restraints back on her wrists. "I'm sorry, love, but transformation is a painful, shocking process. I must restrain you, or you might hurt yourself."
Maggie barely heard him. The only thing she could concentrate on was the pain. It was terrible, and it was all over her body. She felt like her bones were melting, like the skin was being peeled off her body. Dimly she heard herself screaming, and felt her body convulsing. Now it hurt too much to scream; she was breathing in short, shallow gasps. It was like there was an iron clamp on her bones, and someone kept tightening it. Just when Maggie thought the pain couldn't get any worse, she would be assaulted by a fresh wave of agony. And it was cold! If only someone would stop the cold. Cold and pain, cold and pain—it was a repetitious drum in her mind. Maggie couldn't think; she became a screaming, crying, shivering thing with no focus on anything but the pain and the cold.
At some point, she thought she saw her father's face. "Oh, Daddy, please make it stop," she tried to say. Then she saw other familiar faces, but the pain made them leave her. Come back, she thought incoherently. Why are you leaving me? Come back and make it stop. As the pain worsened, Maggie curled into a ball as much as the restraints would allow her. In delirium, she thought, Can't anybody take this away? Help me, help me.
Then a voice answered her. The voice said it was her master, and he could make the pain stop. "Focus on my voice," her master told her.
"I can't," she heard herself say.
"Yes, you can. The pain isn't your master… I am. Heed me, and the pain will stop."
Yes, Maggie thought, nearly insane from agony. My master can make the pain stop; I must listen to my master. Gradually, through the long horrible night, Maggie was able to listen to her master. When the pain nearly drove her to the brink of insanity, her master forced it to recede.
As her master banished the pain, he told Maggie certain things in a soft, hypnotic voice. She must always obey him, or the pain would come back.
"I'll always obey you, Master." Yes, if she obeyed her master, the pain couldn't get to her—he'd make it stay away.
Finally the pain snapped. Maggie—no, her master preferred Meghann—opened her eyes. Simon was by her side, and he took off the restraints.
"It's time to rest, darling. It's nearly sunrise." He stretched out on the bed beside her.
"Am I a vampire now?" Meghann asked drowsily.
"Almost," Simon answered, and gathered her into his arms. "First you must feed. But now we both need to rest. Sleep, my love."
With
that, Meghann fell asleep in her master's arms, unaware of the horror he had in mind for the next evening.
* * *
CHAPTER FIVE
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"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"I love it," she replied. "I love you." Maggie never got tired of watching the sun rise over the skyline. It brought the cool, gray buildings to life. But why did she feel so cold? Johnny had been called to active duty in July—it was summertime. "Johnny, I'm cold."
Johnny chucked her playfully under the chin. "Sorry about that, Raggedy Ann," he said, using the name he'd teased her with when they were children. "That'll teach you to go around sleeping with strange vampires."
"That never happened," she assured him. "If it had, I wouldn't be here. "Vampires can't stand sunlight."
"Maggie, you have to help me with the blood drive." Pauline Manchester was standing in front of Johnny, her navy blue suit soaked in blood.
"Go away, Pauline; I can't help you. Simon took all my blood."
"Maggie, you have to help me. It's the least you can do after you let Simon kill me."
"No, I'm watching the sunrise. It's the last time I'm going to see Johnny for three years. "It's freezing up here. Maggie started shivering. And why was Johnny's uniform covered in blood? Had he been wounded?
The rooftop went dark. Maggie looked up at the sun. It had turned black. And the skyline was drenched in blood.
"That's your life now," Johnny told her.
"No!" Maggie shrieked. "Take it back. I don't want it! I don't want it!"
She felt a pair of hands shaking her. "Meghann, wake up."
She sat up with a start.
Simon stroked her hair. "You were having a nightmare, darling."
Meghann threw the quilt over her in an effort to keep warm. "I still am," she moaned. "Everything hurts and I'm so cold."
Simon used a cloth to wipe her clammy forehead. "Do you feel anything else?"
She became aware of another sensation—almost a craving. It was like being hungry, but worse. She felt like her body was being pulled toward something—some magical thing that would make all this misery go away. But what was it that she wanted so badly?