Sips of Blood

by Mary Ann Mitchell

  "What are you doing acting like a little puppy? Go off, nap, and see your Joe tonight. I should be happy anyway that you've lost interest in Mr. Sade."

  Chapter 45

  Dampness surrounded Liliana. Caught in a whirlpool of blood, splattering the leaves, splattering the earth. Soaking her clothes and skin.

  Piercing cries. Frightened squeaks.

  Life fluttering away in her hands. Struggling. Twitching. Still.

  What rodent had she just thrown away? Dazed, she couldn't center her vision on her surroundings. Didn't want to.

  A rat. A mouse. Something bigger in her hands. Something that clawed and fought. As long as it was not human but had a pulse.

  She ravaged animal after animal at the edge of the forest near the cemetery.

  The cemetery.

  Her stomach rumbled. It roiled. But her mouth seemed eternally parched. No amount of blood appeased the hunger. She sucked on furry flesh. Bits of hair caught in her throat. Mites and fleas tickled her nostrils. She sneezed and felt bits of flesh hit her hands.

  Liliana fell to her knees and began her predator crawl, sensing life deep in the shrubbery, deep in the earth.

  Her fingers scratched at the soil. Dirt crusted under her bloody fingernails.

  She sniffed the air and heard the crackle of a branch.

  She sprang and pounced on an animal. Her fangs sunk into the flesh, ripping out the throat. Shivers. The giving up of a life. Nosing into the wound, Liliana caught the odor of fresh kill. The stink enhanced her appetite. The taste would always be inferior. She recalled savoring the live kill of a particular man long ago. The richness of his blood, the viscous volume of blood, the peace that came with holding the man near. The rush of power. Winning the battle without a struggle. He had come passionately into her arms, stroking her body with large rough hands, entering her, as she tensed her muscles.

  The animal slipped from her hands. Only a token sacrifice, only a temporary satiation of hunger.

  She sat on a bundle of leaves and looked around. Tiny misshapen bodies circled her, unrecognizable animals already starting to rot, already sending out pungent invitations to the maggots and ants and worms and other scavengers.

  She touched her wet cheeks, wet with blood, not with tears, primal blood that dripped from her jaws. She looked at her hands and began to clean them. Licking the waste away, she preened and fidgeted, aware of the compromising scene. The chirping birds had fled; a single crow that cawed out its song remained.

  A short distance away a stream flowed. She slipped out of her tainted clothes and stood, naked. After she bathed she would burn her jeans and tank top. Always she kept a change of clothes in the car. Better to be discovered naked than slick with sin.

  No path led to the stream, but her senses guided her. Within a few paces of the stream a breeze carried the coolness of the water. She relaxed into the cold swirling water.

  The soles of her feet seemed padded, protected against the pebbles and stones underfoot. She squatted, then scooped up handfuls of water to bathe. Her thighs, still sticky with David's semen, spread apart, allowing her to drip the cold water across her mons.

  Tadpoles wriggled around her feet. Gritty pebbles sprouted between her toes. She bent over and lapped at the water, cleansing her mouth. Never would she be able to cleanse her soul. Her soul would forever be bound to the earth both spiritually and physically; she rotted and rejuvenated within the confines of this world. The love she made would always be spare, limited to urges for blood and death.

  A song sounded above her head. An overreaching limb supported a swallow. The lilt of his tune seemed normal even while the blood colored the stream.

  She increased the pace of her movements, wanting to be rid of her history. Wanting to make believe again.

  She played at having a normal family. Often her uncle laughed at her and teased her, but always he protected her.

  "If you didn't allow her to feed from animals, she would have to get over her ridiculous aversion to taking blood from living humans." Her grandmother made this statement to her uncle when she thought that Liliana could not hear.

  Her uncle had taken away her humanity, but there existed a soupçon of guilt in his soul. His touch frequently reminded her of that. Guilt, however, never clouded her grandmother's soul. Instead, if it were not for Uncle Donatien, Grandmother would pull everyone's strings for an eternity.

  Dusk covered the forest with a pall. The trees appeared to stoop in the shadows. Branches reached out at abnormal angles, deformed by the decreasing light. The leaves would hide as one among themselves. The grass would take on the blackness of night, but the gurgle of the stream would penetrate the dark with its own hysteria, slipping over rocks, cradling tadpoles, and absolving the treachery that had defiled it. The stream ran clear again, casting away the sludge of life.

  Chapter 46

  Sade slammed the door shut on his Jaguar and breathed in the crisp night air. He felt refreshed--no, invigorated--by his evening with Cecelia. La pauvre fille would certainly be hoarse tomorrow from all the screaming she did tonight. He smiled and flexed his hands. His grasp on the whip had been too tight. The knuckles of his hands hurt. He had switched hands frequently to vary the strength of the whipping. His right hand never seemed to have the stamina and power of his left.

  For a taste of his blood la fille would submit to anything.

  His silk shirt ruffled slightly in the breeze as he walked to the front door of his house. From the corner of his eye he noticed David's car. Splendid, he thought. More than one of us will be content this night.

  The door had been left unlocked, and Sade made a boisterous entrance into the front hall. A vaguely familiar voice filled the house with a grating yip. And kept right on yipping even when scooped into Liliana's arms.

  "Uncle, how do you like our watchdog?"

  "La chiennne," Sade whispered.

  "Meet Ginger. Ginger, my Uncle Donatien." Liliana waved one of the dog's paws at Sade.

  Sade's chest puffed up to utter a loud condemnation.

  "Arrête de faire l'idiote."

  "Sir." David stood in the doorway next Liliana. "I didn't mean to cause any problems. Just that I knew how Liliana liked to take care of stray animals.

  "Elle suce leur sang!"

  "Uncle," Liliana screamed.

  Sade caught his breath and calmed himself.

  "Je suis vraiment navré."

  "In English, Uncle."

  "I apologize for my ghastly behavior, but that dog reminds me of another."

  "Sir, originally the dog belonged to one of my downstairs neighbors, Mrs. MacManus. They found her dead just today."

  "Quelle tragédie!"

  "Yes, it was, Mr. Sade. She wasn't always pleasant, but still she came to a sad end. Seems she must have fallen and broken her neck."

  "Enough! Why don't we go back into the living room? Uncle?"

  "Yes, of course." Sade shook out his blousy silk sleeves and led the group into the living room. "Tell me, David, how did you manage to inherit la chienne?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "The dog. He wants to know how you came by Ginger."

  "Picked her up in our apartment building hall a while ago. Thought it strange when the days went by and no Mrs. MacManus appeared to claim her dog. I had stuck a note under her door telling her that I had Ginger."

  "That was very nice of you, David," Liliana commented.

  "Oui. A saint for taking in that ragamuffin."

  "I really can't give Ginger a permanent home. I've had a dog before, and I don't think my current work schedule could include caring for a pet. That's why I thought Liliana could help."

  "Ma petite, you have suddenly become an adoption agency. I'm not sure you will be able to find a home for the animal."

  "I'm keeping Ginger," she said with determination.

  "Where?"

  "In my room, if necessary."

  Sade poured out a chilled glass of Tio Pepe and offered the same to his niece
and David. They refused the offer, and both proceeded to sit on the couch. Sade lifted his glass and began pacing the room.

  "If the dog is going to cause a problem here, I can certainly take her back. I'm sure I can find another home. Somewhere."

  "She'll be fine here, David. Won't she, Uncle?"

  "If the scent of it in your bedroom does not disturb your sleep," Sade hinted.

  "I bathed Ginger before I brought her here. She didn't like it much, but we managed. Right, girl?" David scratched Ginger behind an ear and smiled. "In a way, I'll miss her."

  "Take her home with you, monsieur."

  "Uncle, David's not home nearly enough to care for a pet. There's usually someone here, either one of us or Matilda. It might even tempt Cecelia into coming back."

  Sade slugged back the entire glass of sherry. Shame, the high just wasn't the same as when he was alive.

  Liliana stood and walked over to her uncle.

  "How about making peace?" Liliana leaned Ginger toward Sade's body. A throaty growl forced her to pull the dog back. "See, you've hurt her feelings, and now she doesn't like you."

  "There may come a time, ma petite, when she learns not to like you," Sade whispered.

  He saw his niece's hands tremble. The hunger had overcome her today. Her complexion held a deep hue, and she filled the room with a warmth that only came from satisfying the blood hunger. She squeezed the dog too tightly, and it yelped.

  "Oh God, I'm so sorry. Perhaps my uncle is right, David." She turned to the young man still seated on the couch. "I may not be the right person to care for Ginger."

  David laughed. "You hugged her to hard. Sometimes love hurts."

  "Worn-out cliché," muttered Sade. "But now that I think about it... How about your grandmother? She's all alone and could certainly use a companion." Sade reached out to pet the dog, which snarled and snapped at his hand. "I guess we got off on the wrong foot." He smiled at David.

  "Sometimes her disposition can be quite sour, Mr. Sade. I really don't believe it's anything personal."

  "Grandmother?" Liliana was trying to digest the thought. "She wouldn't want a pet. Her furnishings would be ruined."

  "Ginger is house-trained, n'est-çe pas, David?"

  "She's up in age and occasionally has an accident."

  "Just like your grandmother, ma petite."

  "I can't keep her, David. It wouldn't be fair. She'd be in too much danger. I mean, I couldn't follow her around our property, and I hate penning up animals."

  "She's a house dog. Never saw greenery except for the neighborhood park down the block from our apartment house. I wouldn't advise letting her out," said David.

  "Fine! Then the little..."

  "Dog, Uncle."

  "Yes, the word would have come to me, I'm sure. La chienne," he obstinately said, "returns to her park in Manhattan. I'm glad I came home to settle this before it became too complicated." Sade reached out for the dog. Ginger caught the tip of his right thumb. "Le monstre goes back to David, ma fille."

  Sadly Liliana handed the dog back to David, who refused to take it.

  "You've become so attached to Ginger that I feel awful taking her away so quickly."

  "She's safer with you." Again she proffered the dog.

  "Take the damn chienne back!"

  "Uncle!"

  David lifted the dog out of Liliana's arms.

  "Perhaps I should be going," David said.

  "At least la chienne should be."

  David shrugged at Liliana, and they both headed for the front door.

  Sade leaned slightly to the right, enabling him to see the pair share a parting kiss.

  Superbe.

  By the time Liliana returned to the room, Sade sat on the window bench watching David's car drive away.

  "Have you taken him yet?"

  "I'm not going to."

  "Something set off a wild hunger in you today. Have you and he mated?"

  "Mated?"

  "Fucked."

  "Thank you, Uncle, for the clarification."

  "And I receive no answer. That has to mean you two have made love. You cannot possibly continue without feeding. Animal blood is not going to be the answer. Only his warm blood will relieve the tension inside your body." He turned toward her.

  "Your hands tremble, ma fille. Your eyes are misted with the sweetness of the love play. The color of your cheeks has deepened. And your breath reeks of fur, flesh, and blood. Oh non, ma fille, don't look so worried. David could not catch the scent, but I know it well."

  "I will not take his blood."

  "Will you continue making love with him? I see by your expression that loving him is a great temptation. Remember, though, he is not the boy you loved many years ago. His features may be the same, but that is where the similarity stops. He does not have Stuart's grace, nor his naïveté. David is a man who has lived before he met you. I believe he has lived a full life, ma fille. A full life that includes the more perverse occupations."

  "You don't know that."

  "Let me say that I sense it."

  "I will not kill him." She had moved close enough to Sade that the scent of her afternoon banquet made Sade's nose twitch.

  "I am not asking you to kill him. Only I want you to take of his blood, take of his life, and perhaps share an eternity with him.

  "Our eternity is marred by sin, Uncle."

  "Sin! It is a sin to pass on a gift?"

  "Being made into a vampire is not a gift."

  "Then don't make him a vampire and don't kill him, but at least taste of him."

  "I tasted his skin, his hair, and his semen. I controlled myself through all."

  "And then you rushed off to some place in the forest and feasted. Am I not right?"

  "Yes." Liliana sat down on a leather hassock. "But I did not take his life, and I did not endanger his soul."

  Sade laughed. He wanted so much to tell her of the prostitute who serviced not only himself but David. But if she were to hear that the woman was dead, she might run off to her grandmother, and Sade needed the girl's youth within his reach.

  "It has, moreover, been proved that horror, nastiness, and the frightful are what give pleasure when one fornicates. Beauty is a simple thing; ugliness is the exceptional thing. And fiery imaginations, no doubt, always prefer the extraordinary thing to the simple thing."

  The 120 Days of Sodom

  by the

  Marquis de Sade

  Chapter 47

  Her arms dripped with a tattered cream-colored lace from another era. The lace continued across Marie's shoulders and swept down across her bosom, revealing a hint of the curve of her breasts and the dusky shade of her nipples. A silky faded blue skirt blended into the blouse. The waist was cinched too tightly, and the hem rippled in uneven strands of material.

  Wil watched Marie move slowly, almost cautiously, around the darkened room. Apparently searching, looking, planning all in one wave of thought.

  Her makeup looked almost casual. A faint tinge of color highlighted her lips. He could not determine the color. A burnt amber? A clay red? The color played tricks in the varying shades of the room. A light dusting of face powder allowed her pale flesh to glow. Natural eyelashes hovered over two delicately outlined eyes. And the hair fell in soft waves around her face. The fingernails had been recently trimmed and painted a soft vanilla. The toenails duplicated the trimming and coloring of the fingernails.

  "I am so sorry, love. I cannot allow you into my bedroom as yet. I know you wish the relationship to go beyond this dreary dungeon, but there are things you must learn and understand first."

  Marie stopped in front of a wall covered with whips, crops, and switches. The background made her look delicate. Vulnerable.

  Wil smirked.

  "I see you don't believe what I say. I told you that a death took place here..." Marie hesitated. "And somehow my name is linked with the deceased. I know who killed him, but I have no proof. I need your assistance in seeing that the murderer is
punished without my name again being mentioned. Therefore, I am asking you to meet with my son-in-law, the murderer, and to try to gain his trust. I can barely see my granddaughter due to the rage he holds for me. However, do not tarry with Liliana, for she will do anything to protect her uncle."

  "Have you told her that he killed someone?"

  "It would not shock her. The concept of making him pay for the death would certainly escape her."

  Wil attempted to reposition his body, but it proved impossible because of the bindings that held him to the table. Marie had tied the ropes too tight. She no longer worried about leaving wounds or scars. She owned him. The only person she need answer to was herself.

  "The man died in this room, didn't he?"

  Marie pointed to a bench across the room.

  "Louis killed him before my eyes. And I could not stop him."

  "How did he kill him?"

  "Drained him of all desire to live. Broke the man's spirit into pieces and left them for me to puzzle together. I could not, you see."

  "The man lay beyond medical help."

  "Almost beyond God's help."

  "Why did he kill the man?"

  "To get even with me." Marie's eyes turned to look at Wil. "I was obsessed and careless. Obsessed with you and too lenient with my clients. I disappointed one client in particular."

  "He turned to your son-in-law for punishment."

  "Yes. The man had a family, children. I think he may have been jealous of you."

  "Did I ever meet him?"

  "No, but he met you in my eyes, and he watched you in the slide show of my mind."

  "What is your son-in-law's name?"

  "Louis Sade."

  Wil laughed.

  "This is a game, isn't it? Am I supposed to be petrified that you may bring Sade here to beat me?"