Forbidden Touch

by K. S. Haigwood

  The phone beeped again, letting her know that she had an urgent message from someone. Damn! "I'm sorry Mitch. I have to go."

  He reached out for her. "No, don't!" he shouted, but she was already going, leaving his mind.

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  Chapter 5

  She opened her eyes and jumped off the bed. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Mitch shot upright. He looked all around him as she struggled to find her cell phone. She was just about to press the button to put it on silent mode when it beeped again. She went ahead and silenced it, then went perfectly still in the dark corner of his bedroom. She wasn't breathing, but his eyes were on her, or where he thought someone was.

  "Who's there?" he asked. He got out of bed, pulled on some gym shorts, turned on the light, then hit the power button on the stereo. He was positive that he'd heard a cell phone notification. His phone didn't sound like that, so it couldn't be his. He stared at the corner where he'd heard the noise, but there was nothing there that he could see. It may have been the music from the radio, but he didn't think so.

  He walked closer to her and she tensed. He couldn't see her, but he would be able to feel her if he touched her. She wouldn't hurt him, but he had her cornered. Her breath hitched with the sob that was threatening to come out, and he froze.

  He stood there and looked at empty air for a long time. He knew there was something there that his eyes couldn't see. The sound had been feminine, and that person he was hearing had been lying in his bed beside him. It hadn't hurt him yet, so maybe it didn't plan on it. He wondered if it was the woman from his dreams. His features changed to eagerness. He had to know if it was her.

  "Talk to me, please," he whispered. "Are you her? Are you the woman in my dreams? Why are you scared of me? I won't hurt you," he pleaded.

  He was only a few inches from her now, but she actually had to smile with what he'd said to her last. He couldn't hurt her physically. She lost her smile. But he will crush my soul if he looks at me the way he does when I'm covered in blood in his dreams.

  He brought his hands up slowly. If she moved, he would know she was there. If she stayed there in that spot, he would also know she was there, because he would feel her with his hands. Damn. Why didn't she think to silence her phone before she came here? She was caught, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could get by him and run out of here. He would know she'd been there, but he wouldn't know who or what she was. There wasn't another option.

  She dropped to the floor a half a second before he touched her shoulder. She rolled a little, then was on her feet, down the hall, and out of his front door before he knew what had happened. She had left the door open, and she knew that he would come and close it. But what would the look on his face be like? She had extraordinary hearing, and she could hear him in his bedroom still. She wished she could just appear back in his room to see what expression he wore on his face, but she didn't have the skill to dematerialize her body.

  She heard him growl, and a few moments later it sounded like something broke against a wall. She put her hand to her forehead. She had done the right thing. She hadn't revealed herself to him, so her kind would still be safe; her family wouldn't have to kill her.

  Mitch was on his knees in his bedroom, and he was so full of rage he couldn't see straight. He knew she was there, and if it wasn't her, it was something. Something was the right answer. Humans couldn't make themselves invisible like that. That thing had been in his apartment when he felt he was being watched earlier. What the hell was it? Was it the serial murderer that had been draining people of their blood in the city?

  He jumped to his feet and grabbed his Glock from his bedside table, then walked cautiously down the hall. He peered around the corner. The door of his apartment was wide open. He knew he'd thrown all the locks after Brad had left. So this is how it had gotten out. But how had it gotten in? Had it come in when Brad had?

  He glanced at the clock on his stove. It hadn't been long since he'd gone to bed. It was only 10:33 p.m. He peeked around the edge of the hall wall again. There was no one there. Well, at least there was no one there that he could see.

  He pointed his pistol toward the door then walked toward it slowly. He couldn't hear any noise coming from the hall, but then again, he couldn't hear anything while in his room until the thing had moved either. He still felt like he was being watched, so he carefully walked out in the hall. "Are you here?" Nothing but silence. He lowered the gun. If the thing had meant him harm, he was sure he would be hurting right now. He took a few deep breaths then spoke again. "Look, I'm putting my weapon away." He slowly placed the gun at the small of his back, half in, half out of his shorts. He held up his empty hands. "I only want to talk to you. Please, just show yourself. I won't hurt you. I promise."

  She stood only a few feet in front of him, but he was unaware. He was saying that he wouldn't hurt her again. If he only knew the things she could do to him.

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "If you don't show yourself now, don't come back in my apartment. It's really creepy when someone is watching you and you can't see them."

  She still said, or did, nothing.

  "Fine. Leave me the hell alone then. I have enough problems without having to deal with a ghost, too." He turned, walked in his apartment, and slammed the door.

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  Chapter 6

  Mitch walked back through his kitchen, took his gun out of his shorts, and laid it on the kitchen counter. He rubbed his face with his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair. "Damn it!" He swung at the empty air in front of him, realizing what he really needed was a punching bag. He needed to hit something, and if he went to the bar that something would end up being some guy's face. But if he stayed here…God, he would go crazy. He shook his head and grabbed his white t-shirt off the living room floor. After throwing it on, he grabbed his keys to his unmarked. The motorcycle would be too cold with shorts on, but his blood was so hot right now, he didn't think he would notice it much. Still, he didn't need to be on only two wheels with the shape his head was in. He grabbed his pistol and stuck it back where it had been in his shorts.

  He locked his door on his way out, but he didn't, for one second, think it would keep the thing out if it really wanted to get into his apartment. Well, it would keep the burglars out, hopefully, he thought as he took the stairs instead of the elevator. He needed to blow off some steam, and standing in a fucking box, even for a minute, wasn't going to let him do that.

  She watched him come back out and hit the stairwell door with a little too much force. He was angry with her. She had heard him swear when he went back in his apartment. She wanted to follow him and show herself and make everything better. She wished she hadn't been such a coward. Why didn't she just show herself to him? Nobody was going to find out.

  Just then her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She had forgotten to check the text that blew her cover. It had better be damn important, she thought as she opened it. It was from Daneian, her Brother. It was short, but certainly not sweet. She read the text that made her heart skip a beat and shatter her whole world. "Asabel followed you. Mom and Dad know everything. Come home now. They are pissed. Love you, Dane."

  She shut her eyes tight and clutched the phone to her chest. "God, please no!" she cried.

  Mitch ran out of his apartment complex and looked at his unmarked, and then he looked down the deserted street. The all hours gym was only seven blocks away, and sitting in that damn car wasn't going to help him any. He took off at a mad run toward the gym. When his muscles cramped up, he pushed himself even harder. He had to do something to get that woman out of his head. Something in the back of his mind told him that she'd been the one with him in his apartment. He knew it was her, and he was a little pissed at himself for being so irrational. Maybe if he had talked a little more calmly and a little longer without spazzing out, she would have shown herself.

  It was too late now. He had a feeling she would take him at hi
s harsh words and leave him alone.

  He remembered her in the dream. She had heard the beep, and was trying to leave before he realized that she was really there with him. How long had she been in his apartment? He'd been having dreams about her, on and off, for almost a month. Had she been there that long? And again the question; is she the one committing the unusual murders? She had been there in his dreams, covered in blood, when he had seen the images of the victims before they were murdered. How could he have been so naive?

  He slowed down and jogged up the steps of the gym, punched in his code, and opened the door. There were only a few guys lifting weights in the weight room. No one was at the punching bag, and that's where he headed.

  There were tape and gloves on a shelf close to the punching bags, but he wasn't interested. He needed pain. He needed to hit something, and realized that he wanted to be hit back. He needed that adrenaline rush that only fighting could give him. He had boxed in high school, but there was hardly ever anyone that came in here with enough balls to take him on.

  He left the tape and gloves off, and began to pound the bag. It was helping, but it wasn't enough to get her out of his head. He needed someone to knock her out of his mind for good. He'd been punching the bag for a while without slowing down. He noticed out of his peripheral vision, that the guys who had been lifting weights were watching him now. There were four of them. Maybe I can pick a fight with all of them, and they will whoop the dog shit out of me, he thought as he hammered on the bag. His knuckles had already begun to bleed, but that made him happy.

  "Hey, you're going to give yourself a heart attack if you don't slow down, man. Your girl break up with you or something?" one of the guys said. He wasn't the biggest, so Mitch didn't want to pick the fight with him.

  No, she didn't break up with me. She won't even let me see or touch her. He grimaced at the thought. Who was he kidding? She'd never been his girlfriend. Like he'd said before, women that beautiful didn't seduce men like him. He stopped punching the bag and looked at the guy. He was about Mitch's size, six-two, two-hundred and ten pounds. Mitch was a little broader through the shoulders, but he would take it easy on the guy.

  "I'm actually looking to be hit back, but this bag isn't interested. Are you?" Mitch said as he stared the guy down. He shrugged his shoulders when the guy didn't respond right away. He wasn't going to stand here all night and bull shit. He had shit to do. "Any of you interested? Hell, all of you at one time. I'm not looking to kick anybody's ass; I'm looking to get mine kicked."

  The biggest guy stepped forward and Mitch grinned. "Are you crazy, man?"

  Not even a heartbeat went by before he responded. "I'm beginning to think so," he said as he nodded once.

  The big guy's expression didn't change as he stared at Mitch. "You didn't escape from some loony bin or something, did you?"

  Mitch shook his head, reached behind his back and held out his pistol butt first to the guy. "Nope. I'm a cop, and I've had one hell of a month. Just looking for someone to beat it out of me, that's all."

  The eyes on all four of the guys widened considerably, and then the big guy spoke up again. "Look, I ain't going to jail for beating some cop's face in the dirt."

  Mitch shook his head and looked the guy right in the eyes. "You won't. I promise. I'm not even wearing my badge, and I'm giving my gun up right now." He laid it on the shelf behind him. "If you want, we can call my partner. You can talk to him, and I will tell him in front of you that no one here is responsible for anything that happens to me, but you will have to say the same. I boxed in high school and I'm looking for a fair fight. I want my ass whipped, but I'm not going to let you do it. Capisci?

  After Mitch laid his gun on the shelf, he'd grabbed the tape and had been wrapping his hands, knuckles and wrists. When he finished talking, he tossed the tape to the big guy. The guy caught it and nodded in agreement.

  "I don't think we need to involve any more cops than what is already here. But you don't need to know my name either, do you?"

  Mitch shook his head. "It isn't necessary," he said as he grabbed a pair of boxing gloves and headed for the ring.

  The big guy finished taping his hands, then one of his buddies helped him into the gloves. "You aren't going to wear head gear?" he said, looking up at Mitch as he bounced on his toes in the ring.

  "No need, but you can if you want."

  The guy looked back at his friend, whispered something then nodded. His friend put the head gear on him and he stepped into the ring with Mitch. "You said you used to box. I ain't stupid."

  Mitch bounced a few more times, then hauled off and punched the big guy in the nose. The guy's head jerked back, but he kept his balance enough to stand. He shook his head to clear it, then ran at Mitch swinging, but only connected with air. Mitch caught the guy in the stomach, and doubled him over.

  Mitch held out his arms. "C'mon, I was having better luck with the punching bag."

  The guy righted himself and tried to catch his breath. They began to circle each other and Mitch moved in for a right hook. He connected perfectly with the guy's left jaw then gave him an uppercut with his left. That had been enough to knock him out cold. The big guy fell slowly, and was laid out on the mat, unmoving.

  He frowned down at the big guy and shook his head. He'd had high hopes of being the one laying on the mat. Mitch looked at the three other guys standing on the concrete. "Is he the toughest out of the four of you?" they all nodded in agreement. No one wanted to play with him. He unfastened the Velcro around his wrists and slipped the gloves off. He let them fall on the mat without putting them back on the shelf. He jumped down, went to the shelf to retrieve his gun, and walked out the door of the gym without another word.

  That had been disappointing, but he did burn a few calories. It had been a while since he'd pounded the bag. He missed it, and planned to come back again tomorrow night. Maybe there would be even bigger guys that would want to play with him.

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  Chapter 7

  She opened the door of her Parents' house. From the outside it looked like an old, single story, white wooden house. But what many, well all, mortals didn't know was there was an extravagant, ten thousand square foot mansion below it. She hadn't grown up here. Her Parents weren't really her parents in the normal sense of the word. Her real parents had died many centuries ago in Italy. The Parents she had now were descendants of the Elders. She had been given to them so they could teach her the right way to be what she was.

  There are a lot of different tasks that vampires take on. Some work in the human world as night doctors or nurses. They have access to the bags of blood that come in from the Red Cross and such. Not every vampire likes to take blood directly from a mortal. They steal it from hospitals, and then sell it to the vampires that get their nutrition from a bag. Their title: Getters. The task was very boring, so she had no interest in ever becoming a Getter.

  Some were like her Parents, and showed others the way to blend in and be successful in their tasks. Their title: Parents. She would never be a Parent. She had no interest in helping other vampires be better vampires.

  There were a lot of Rogue vampires in the world, and the Elders didn't usually pay them any attention unless one started killing off a bunch of mortals, like the one she was chasing. Their title: you guessed it, Rogues. And yes, she had thought many times about becoming a Rogue.

  Only the elite can do what she does. She is what they call a Finder. She tracks, locates, subdues, and imprisons the Rogue vampires that have gotten a little out of hand. The Elders judge them. Most of the time they are executed, because if they are causing havoc in a city, they are usually already crazy and can't be helped any further. Her job was a lot like Detective Mitch Foley's.

  She closed her eyes. The thought of him made her chest hurt.

  She opened the front door and walked down the dainty looking but very sturdy wooden staircase, and then took a left at the bottom and walked a little ways down the hall. She took
a deep breath, then opened the conference room doors. It surprised her. Her Parents, Asabel and Dane were the only beings in the room. She had expected every one of the Elders to be here, ready to execute her after what she'd done. Or did Asabel know everything she'd been doing for the last month?

  She held her head high and came to a stop in front of her clearly irate parents. "Mother," she nodded. "Father." She didn't acknowledge Asabel or Dane's presence. There was no need; they were only witnesses.

  Her Father cleared his throat. "Ciera, what have you been doing for the last month?"

  She showed no emotion, a skill she had perfected over the last three centuries. "I have been tracking the Rogue with very little luck, Father. You know of my great skill, but this vampire's mind is like none other I have encountered. His brain is completely fried, and the only thing I'm getting from him are the images of his victims, but only a couple of days before he drains them. There is a human detective working the case, and I have only visited his dreams to implant the images of the victims in his mind. He has more information on the human population than I do, Father. Without names, I am at a loss. He is my source for names."