The Art of Seduction

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The Art of Seduction Page 10

by Annie Harland Creek


  “There is no easy way of telling you this, Meaghan. I’m afraid that David was also killed last night.”

  Meaghan’s collapse was less an act and more of a delayed reaction. There was no getting around the reality. David was truly dead. Derrick caught her before she hit the concrete driveway and carried her into the cottage, laying her on the couch. He walked to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water, helping to raise her up to a seated position before offering her the drink. Her hand shook as she lifted the glass to her mouth and swallowed some of the cool water. She thanked him and asked for the details, despite already knowing the fundamentals.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Derrick told her. “He was at the campus last night, picking up some supplies for your next art class and it appears as though a security mistook him for the killer and shot him.”

  “I heard that the victim was in the science labs. What would David be doing there?”

  “I imagine that he heard something that drew him there.” Derrick shrugged his broad shoulders. “He was probably trying to help.”

  “Yes.” Meaghan nodded, although she suspected that if David had indeed been the killer, his brother may have been involved and therefore withholding information. She put the glass down on the coffee table and rose to her feet. Whether David was a hero or a killer, it no longer mattered. He was gone, torn from her life just as they were beginning a relationship.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Derrick. I’ll be packed and ready to leave as soon as possible.”

  Derrick’s next statement took her completely by surprise. “Anna and I want you to stay.”

  “That wouldn’t be right Derrick. I appreciate your offer but, without David, there is no scholarship. You shouldn’t feel obliged to—”

  “David was very taken with you.” He told her. “And he would want you to stay and continue your work. The scholarship is part of a foundation that David and I ran together so his death makes no difference to the contract, other than we need to find you a replacement teacher.”

  “No one could replace David.” The words came out before Meaghan had time to think but she was relieved to see Derrick smile as he nodded in agreement.

  “He was one of a kind. But, you need a mentor so I shall organize it after your wrist has time to heal.” He had begun walking to the door where he turned and asked, “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer if you didn’t use the studio for a few days. It would be a bit upsetting for us to hear someone moving around down there. I understand that David set you up with a small studio in here?”

  “Yes, thank you. And of course I understand and respect your wishes. It would be a bit strange for all of us.”

  She wasn’t sure if she could ever go back to David’s studio anyway. There would be too many painful memories. She pictured him reclining half naked on his bed, his cheeky grin teasing her. Tempting her. The image quickly disintegrated into a scene of a funeral home. David inside a mahogany coffin. A reminder of what was to come. How would she be able to hold it together for the funeral? Terry and the others would not understand the tears that would be sure to flow during the ceremony but she had to attend, regardless of the consequences.

  “Oh, Derrick. I hate to ask but I was wondering when you plan on having the funeral?”

  Derrick approached her and gently rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Meaghan. As per the instructions in David’s will, we had him cremated this afternoon. His ashes are already interred in the back garden, by the large frangipani. He didn’t want a service and requested that no death notice be posted. Considering the circumstances and David’s celebrity, we thought we should honor his wishes before the press descended on our home or the funeral parlor. Over the course of David’s life, we’ve found the paparazzi to be relentless in their endeavors to take incriminating photos. He had a bit of a playboy reputation as I’m sure you’d know.” He lightly flicked the underside of her chin and smiled, although she suspected he was in as much emotional pain as she was. “I’ll have a tray sent to you and then I think we should all probably have an early night.”

  As hard as it was, Meaghan returned the smile and nodded, although she had no appetite. David was gone and there was nothing she could do to bring him back. She’d wasted precious time hanging on to her virginity when, all the while, she could have been making love with David. Now she suspected that she would die a virgin. How could any man compare to him either physically or romantically? He had brought her to the brink of womanhood and left her wanting. Murderer or not, she had come to a painfully clear understanding. She loved him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  David observed the lonely silhouette from the safety of his darkened room. The tinted windows and heavy drapes blocked most of the sun’s rays providing sufficient cover from the midday sun to peek outside. He watched her stroll down the path and stop at the large frangipani where his ashes had been interred. At least she believed they were there. She was wearing jeans and although he had never seen her in anything besides dresses, he could recognize her anywhere by the sway of her hips. She had a way of walking that was truly mesmerizing, like watching the pendulum of a grandfather clock or a magician’s watch. He was under her spell. She didn’t even appear to be aware of her sexual allure or the fact that she almost glowed with ethereal beauty. This new look fascinated and aroused him.

  Her skin-tight denim jeans hugged her body, accentuating every curve and the white t-shirt molded around her firm breasts. Her pale blonde hair hung wild, free from the childish braids but she still looked younger than her age. Cradle snatcher. He chuckled to himself. If only she hadn’t replaced her usual sandals with a pair of runners, the new look would have met with his approval. There was something sexy about the daisy sandals. Maybe it was the way they drew attention to her cute little toes or the nails that were always painted with pink polish.

  She bent down, her back to him as she placed something on the ground beside his plaque. Derrick had managed to grease a few palms and the memorial plate and receptacle had been constructed and put in place within hours of his death. It had been harder to convince the forensic pathologist that he had performed an autopsy. “That man’s mind is like a steel trap,” Derrick had told David. “I was exhausted by the time I left.”

  Once released from the morgue, David’s body had been taken to a crematorium where the director had been compelled to believe that he had disposed of David’s corpse and he had even supplied Derrick with an urn. The director would later find a substantial check in his jacket pocket, to cover his costs.

  David hated deceiving Meaghan this way but circumstances had forced his hand. How else could he have explained surviving six bullets to his chest and a stake almost puncturing his heart? Even if surviving such terrible wounds was possible, the paramedic and later the medical examiner would have been unable to detect a heartbeat. Necessity had influenced his decision to fake his death and besides, Meaghan would be safer without him. He had physically hurt her and he knew that if he continued to stay in her company, he could inadvertently draw the killer to her. Worse still, if she was somehow involved in the murders, he would be forced to take action to stop her and the result would be fatal. Probably for both of them. If he was forced to kill her he would end his own life immediately after.

  But … no. Impossible. There was no way she could be responsible for the deaths of those apparently innocent victims. How could she be a cold-blooded killer? He watched her as she sat on the ground, crying over his ashes and delicately touching the plaque, tracing her fingers over his embossed name and giving every indication that she had loved him. Hell, she had said as much. Okay, she may have been sedated at the time but people are usually very open and honest while under the influence of drugs or alcohol. If only he could find a way to tell her that he loved her too.

  ****

  The vibration in her pocket warned her that her phone was about to ring, so Meaghan answered it before it could break the silence of the solemn moment. />
  “Hey, Meaghan. I hear you’ve broken your hand. Bummer.”

  Meaghan recognized the voice immediately although she hadn’t spoken with the caller for weeks. She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief before responding, “Hi, Lilith.”

  “When are you coming back to class? I hear that your mentor is dead. Bad luck that. He was hotter than Hades. Hahaha, I just realized how funny that was, guess he’s in Hades now.”

  Meaghan held her finger over the hang up icon but changed her mind. “What do you want, Lilith?”

  “So-o-r-ry. I guess someone’s a bit sensitive now that she’s not getting it anymore.”

  “David Corel and I had a professional relationship and nothing more, so I would appreciate it if you keep your remarks to yourself.”

  “Oh. I thought that…”

  “Well you thought wrong.”

  “So you’re still suffering from Virginitis?”

  “If that’s the only reason you called then—” Meaghan prepared to hang up when she heard Lilith shout out an apology.

  “I’m sorry, Meaghan. I guess I’m on still on a high. I’ve been up all night with some friends who brought some really good shit. I’ll probably be up for a week. Damn girl, you shoulda been there. Anyway, I didn’t mean nothing by it, honest. I just thought you might need a bit of cheering up and my friends and me are having a rave on the oval behind the campus tonight. Wanna come? There should be some good shit, and even a keg.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not in the mood for a party and, as I’ve told you many times before … I don’t do drugs and neither should you if you are serious about your health and your degree. You can hardly produce your best work if you’re stoned.”

  “Get real,” Lilith argued, her laugh reminded Meaghan of a witch’s cackle. “Name one great artist who wasn’t stoned off his face when he produced his best work. Maybe if you loosened up a bit, you might get laid.”

  Meaghan hung up the phone without responding and began walking back towards her cottage. Lilith’s words hurt deeply. Not the drug reference as she had no intention of ever taking drugs, but the suggestion that she was tightly wound hit a nerve. Anxiety about sex and nudity that prevented her from having a real relationship with David and now, it was too late. She thought about the insensitivity of holding a rave at the campus so soon after the recent deaths and shook her head in disgust. What type of person would attend a party so soon after the deaths? Especially so close to where a murders were committed. The answer hit her like a ton of bricks, stopping her in her tracks. The murderer would.

  ****

  David watched Meaghan answer her phone and realized that whoever called had said something to distress her. When she rushed back to her cottage, he’d longed to go after her and offer her comfort but … he was dead. Actually, he had been dead for over a century but there was no way she could know that unless he stuffed up and gave her reason to suspect that he was a vampire.

  He considered the turn his life had taken. Until now, he had been able to pass as a human for the most part. He could be seen in the daytime as long as he avoided direct sunlight or remained in a windowless room. He neither slept in a coffin nor underground—unless he was badly injured—and his blood was supplied by courier from the blood bank and drunk from expensive wine glasses. This recent chain of events had forced him to live like the stereotypical vampire, existing in the shadows, hiding from humans like a monster, a killer. Of course his family and his fellow vampires would be privy to the truth but he couldn’t risk telling Meaghan and driving her away. None of the scenarios he played in his head offered him any comfort or hope. If she chose to be with him, he would be condemning her to a half-life spent in the shadows. On the other hand, if she rejected him, his cover would be blown and he would be forced to leave town forever or worse still, he would be playing into the hands of a killer. No. It was better for both of them if she believed he was dead.

  ****

  Meaghan settled herself down on her couch and mentally prepared herself for another out of body experience. She knew that she would be forced to camouflage herself in the dense vegetation behind the campus. The last thing she needed was for some “pot head” at the rave to see her and broadcast that the University had a ghost. It was hard enough when David managed to magically appear on her previous stakeouts and almost blow her cover. She figured that if he hadn’t been the killer, he must have had some type of power or gift. Possibly one like hers? Now she would never know.

  Terry was convinced that the case was closed. Sure that David Corel was the killer but she wasn’t so sure. She decided to go with her gut instinct, sure that there would be another victim. She would prove that David was innocent and that she was detective material. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on the task at hand. This time she had to be precise, she couldn’t just concentrate on the campus in general. She had to focus on the grounds behind the main building. It was difficult remembering. Were there bushes or other structures that would provide adequate cover? Previous attempts had failed to take her to the exact spot she needed to be and recently, while dreaming, she had found herself in the graveyard. She had no intention of repeating that experience. Wildflowers. Yes, she remembered seeing wildflowers growing near a cluster of bushes behind the oval. Keeping the image in her mind, she concentrated on their location and size as she allowed her spiritual self to float free of her body.

  Within seconds, she arrived at the oval, horrified but not really surprised to find that she had been deceived. No rave. No party. Only a group of people surrounding another individual who was kneeling in the long grass. The group, who she recognized by their attire as being the same figures she had encountered at the cemetery, were chanting and burning candles. The air heavy with the scent of black pepper and bergamot, a fragrance she recognized as an ingredient in a perfume she had once tried. It was not to her taste … heady and too strong for her liking. As in the cemetery encounter, they all wore hooded robes but one member in particular stood out in the crowd. There was something malevolent about this character, besides the fact that he or she was holding a silver chalice under the chin of the kneeling woman. The woman was naked, gagged, and hog-tied. Her wrists and feet bound behind her. Despite the gag, it was obvious that she was sobbing and pleading with her captors. They paid her no mind, high either on drugs or possibly the scent from the candles. The heavy fragrance was slightly nauseating.

  The ring leader—who Meaghan deduced by her height and outline to be a woman—raised her hand, revealing a large curved knife. The naked woman’s eyes widened in fear. Meaghan watched in horror, unable to scream out for them to stop. Her incorporeal body useless against the flesh and blood killers. Instinct told her to look away but it was her duty to report the scene in graphic detail. She was forced to watch as one of the hooded worshippers grabbed the victim’s hair, pulling it back to expose the victim’s throat. With the knife in her left hand the Priestess paused for a moment, her arm raised diagonally across her body and her hand hovering above her right shoulder as she said something in Latin before striking.

  The blade cut through the victim’s throat, opening her neck from left to right. Voices squealed in delight. Meaghan gagged. The priestess held the cup under the woman’s chin to catch the blood as it gushed from the deep slash. The blood quickly filled the goblet, much to the delight and cheers of the others. When the cup was full, the body was discarded like an animal carcass, no longer of any use to the group and soon forgotten as they began to strip off their cloaks and dance naked around the fire. Half of the contents of the cup were poured into a separate, more elaborate goblet studded with jewels and placed on a makeshift altar. Beneath the velvet covering, Meaghan could see a wooden packing crate. The contents of the first goblet then mixed with a liquid taken from the pocket of the killer. Meaghan guessed it was likely to have been a hallucinogenic or narcotic of some description. As they passed the goblet from one member of the group to another, they drank the blood and licked their lips with
relish. Meaghan’s stomach heaved. She fought the urge to turn away. Can’t do this. It was bad enough watching the psychos kill the poor woman, now she was forced to watch them drink her blood. The smell of the blood reached her and she gagged, sickened by the stench of the coppery liquid. Stay strong. Think of something else.

  She’d seen many murder victims but never seen an actual murder and it was something she never wanted to experience again. That poor woman. How terrified she must have been. The revelers, obviously high on adrenaline and the drug-laced blood, danced themselves into frenzy, spinning and squealing in delight. They soared higher and higher on whatever the hell they had ingested, danced around the body and finally, paired up to copulate. Their victory celebrated in a drug fueled orgy. Despite the lateness of the hour, the full moon illuminated the naked bodies as they writhed in the long grass, their moans and grunts made them sound more like animals than humans. Finished with one partner, they moved on to another, sometimes same sexual orientation, other times multiple lovers, but never appearing to be satisfied. Meaghan tried to understand the significance of the ritual but came up cold. She wondered why she’d ever felt embarrassed to look at David. His body was magnificent while this strange group were all manner of weird shapes, none especially attractive. Who are these people?

  A loud roar pierced the air and the orgy immediately broke up, the revelers breaking apart to resume their kneeling positions. Submissives waiting for their dominatrix’s instructions. A shadow arose from the center of the fire and a form began to take shape. The silhouette huge and cumbersome, like a beast or what Meaghan perceived a demon to look like. The head worshipper snatched up the ornamental goblet, offering it with both hands, her naked body facing in Meaghan’s direction. Although the mist creature obscured her vision, there was something familiar about the woman’s face that Meaghan could not quite recognize. A student perhaps? She had definitely seen her before, possibly in the corridors of the campus. Tattoos covered the woman’s arms, snaking up from her wrists to her shoulders then continuing across her chest. This could be a form of identification. Although she imagined it was not unique, the design was probably uncommon. If only I could carry a camera or phone. It was a shame that she couldn’t get close enough to get a better look at the design but she couldn’t risk detection. To be honest with herself, she didn’t want to get closer. The thought terrified her. The Academy didn’t exactly train her for dealing with demons or blood. So much blood.

 

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